Artan stroked her side and caught the direction of her gaze. Obviously flaunting himself in front of his still virginal wife might have been a mistake. He decided that he had left her unkissed for too long. It was probably not wise to let her desire wane at all. Once she was breeched and realized their difference in size did not matter, he would not have to be so careful.
He had to fight the urge to stare at her, to slowly and gently touch every perfect part of her. Her breasts were plump and tipped with soft pink. Her waist was small, and her hips curved enough to be womanly. Her bottom was nicely rounded and taut. She had long, slender legs and smooth, pale thighs so slender there was a gap at the top that invited a man. Her womanly secrets were hidden beneath a dainty vee of red curls. He knew her skin was smooth and soft, and all he could see was how much of its unmarred beauty was right there for him to enjoy. When she started to lift her hands to cover herself again, he kissed her.
It took a moment for Artan’s kiss to banish her embarrassment, but Cecily soon fell under its spell. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with an increasing passion. When he began to caress her body, each stroke of his big hands seemed to smooth away her shyness. The moment his kisses reached her breasts she no longer cared what he saw or what he did; all she cared about was that the feelings he stirred within her continue.
Cecily stroked his back as he feasted upon her breasts. When she slid her hands down his spine and caressed his backside, he groaned, and his kisses and caresses grew a little fiercer. She did not even flinch when he slid his hand down between her legs and stroked her as he had done during their tryst at the burn. Cecily willingly opened herself to his touch and heard herself groan softly as her desire began to reach painful heights.
It was not until his kisses reached the lowest point on her stomach that a brief hesitation came in her growing passion. Her eyes grew so wide with shock when his mouth replaced his fingers and he kissed her there, they stung a little. By the time she recovered from her shock enough to move, she did not want to. She buried her fingers in his hair and held him there, silently asking him to continue giving her such pleasure. A tightening in her belly nudged her free of her mindless desire and she called out his name, but he ignored her. Suddenly, that tightness snapped and she cried out as waves of pleasure swept over her.
She cried out again when he was suddenly there, inside her, united with her. It took her a moment to realize he had gone very still and she gently grasped him by the hips. She was not sure what she wanted him to do, but it was not to just lie there quietly joined with her.
“Artan?” she whispered, lightly stroking his hips.
Artan prayed she was not about to ask him to pull out because it hurt too much. He did not think he had ever felt such pleasure. The feel of her tight heat all around him made him nearly dizzy with pleasure. The strain of not moving soon grew too great to ignore, however, and he brushed a soft kiss over her mouth.
“Are ye in pain, Sile mine?” he asked.
“Och, nay. I just wondered if this is how it is done. Are ye supposed to just lie there?”
He laughed softly and kissed her again. “Nay, lass, I am supposed to do this,” he said quietly and began to move.
Cecily arched up to meet his gentle thrust. “Aye, that is what I needed.”
It was what he needed as well, and Artan was deeply gratified when she quickly caught his rhythm and met him thrust for thrust, her body in perfect harmony with his. Just as he began to reach between their bodies to stroke the nub of flesh there and try to add to her enjoyment, he felt her tense. A heartbeat later he felt her release convulse around him and it pulled him along with her. As their cries echoed in the room, Artan decided there was something sweeter than hearing her cry out his name, and that was to hear them cry out together.
When he was finally able to move from where he had sprawled at Cecily’s side, Artan fetched a scrap of cloth, dampened it in a bowl of water left for the morning, and washed them both clean of the stain of her lost innocence. He returned to the bed and pulled her into his arms. As the last of passion’s haze cleared from his mind, he found himself wondering how long he needed to allow her to heal after her first time with a man. Artan prayed it would not be too long, for he was already hungry for her again.
Artan felt like patting himself on the back. He had breeched his wife and there had been no tears and no cries of pain, only of pleasure. Loving her with his mouth had been an inspiration brought on by a need to kiss every beautiful soft inch of her, to mark her in ways he had never marked a woman before, and a sudden memory of something he had once done half-heartedly when playing those love games with the blacksmith’s daughter. It had worked, sending his little wife into such a state of desire she had barely flinched when he had broken her maidenhead. He began to think he had suffered more than she had.
He briefly grinned into her hair as she rested her cheek against his chest. Artan realized that he liked loving his wife that way. He especially liked the way she went wild in his arms and made soft, moaning noises. There would be more of those intimate kisses. Artan would not allow her to grow all shy and uneasy over such an intimacy. He had every intention of doing it again. It enflamed him almost as much as it did her.
“Artan?” Cecily asked a little timidly as she stroked his chest.
“Aye, wife?” He decided he liked the sound of that word.
“Am I supposed to make so much noise?”
Knowing that laughing now would hurt her feelings, he bit the inside of his cheek until the urge passed. “Ye can make as much noise as ye want. I do and I will.”
“’Tis just that it isnae anything like Lady Anabel said it was supposed to be.”
He did not like the idea that Lady Anabel had advised her on how to behave in the marital bed. “It is what ye make of it. Ye can have a cold bed or a verra warm one. I prefer a verra warm one, thank ye.”
“Weel, I wish to do what ye like, because then ye may nay have the need of another woman.”
Artan grasped her by the chin and turned her face up to his. “I am your husband. We have made promises to each other e’en if the marriage is only a handfasting. We will have our vows afore a priest as soon as can be and I will mean those vows, too. I will be faithful.”
That delighted her, but she wondered if he really knew what he was promising her. “Anabel says men cannae be faithful.”
“Neither can she it seems.” He kissed her. “This is all I need. Men who say they need more either have a wife they loathe or are making excuses for their own inability to hold fast to a vow made before God.”
“So Sir Edmund—”
“Is naught but a rutting swine. The mon killed three of his own kinsmen for the sake of money. I think that settles the matter of his morals. He doesnae have any.”
“Ah, of course. I think it is going to take a wee while before the truth of that truly settles in my mind and heart. ’Tis too horrible, and I think I keep shoving it into some dark corner of my mind.”
“Then mayhap I need to fill your poor wee mind with something else,” he murmured as he gently pushed her onto her back and settled himself comfortably in her arms.
