“Because you don’t follow instructions well.” He slid down the length of her body, insinuating himself between her legs. He paused and moved his hips forward as his cock stroked against that private part of her, and Joan moaned, trying in vain to meet his thrust appropriately. But he only laughed under his breath and slid down some more until his gleaming eyes were level with her breasts. “This takes a little time to do well,” he murmured. “I shan’t be hurried along.”
Joan blushed. “I don’t know what you mean!”
“I know.” He stroked both hands down the insides of her thighs and gently but firmly spread her legs further apart. He gazed with rapt attention at her nether parts, causing her to blush almost painfully red.
“I—I think I’ve changed my mind,” she said in a rush. The nymphs in the painting on the opposite wall seemed to be watching in horror. A servant could walk in at any moment to find her naked and bound to the headboard with his head between her legs. Someone in the house across the square might look through the windows and see what he was doing through the gap in the drapes.
“Too late,” he whispered, and lowered his head.
She jumped at the first touch of his mouth, soft and wet and very warm. “Stop,” she cried in a desperate whisper. “Stop—oh—oh—oh my goodness, what are you doing?”
“I shall tie a handkerchief over your mouth if you ask me to stop even once more.” He peered up at her, his dark hair rumpled very rakishly. “You can say anything else, though.”
“Tristan,” she gasped, and then she could hardly speak at all, as he probed with his tongue, first gently, then more firmly, licking and stroking until she was almost sobbing. She twisted and arched, pulling so hard at her bonds that the headboard creaked, but he held her hips firmly in place and wedged his shoulders under her thighs and relentlessly teased her with his tongue and lips. He was right—it took longer—but sweet blessed heavens, it led to the same tension, the same restless ache, the same feeling of the earth dropping out from under her as her body finally couldn’t take it anymore and gave in to the long, hard pull of his mouth.
She was still gasping and trembling with the aftershocks when he hauled himself up and sheathed himself inside her with one swift stroke. Joan cried out at the intrusion, and he paused.
“Are you hurt?”
She could only shake her head. She felt utterly raw and defenseless, her arms bound and her legs spread as he pressed ever deeper into her.
“Good.” He inhaled, his breath rough and ragged. “I’m so hard with wanting you, I might explode if you told me to stop.”
“Don’t stop,” she managed to choke out before he surged forward again.
“Don’t worry.” He braced his hands beside her shoulders. His dark hair fell over his brow, not quite hiding the harsh set of his features as he rode her with driving thrusts that made her writhe, first from the assault on her still-throbbing flesh, then in more harmony as his passion stoked her own, raising that razor-sharp tension within her until she could hardly breathe. It didn’t seem possible to experience such ecstasy so soon again, but her body appeared ready and eager, leaping to ever-higher pitches of arousal until she felt it beating through her muscles, and she arched her back with a low keening cry of release. Tristan growled, and she curled her legs around his hips to hold him inside her as the waves of climax rolled on and on. He said a very bad word under his breath and held himself deep within her, his hips jerking in short, sharp thrusts until he, too, shook and shouted with release.
Joan forced her eyes open and looked up at her husband. His face was drawn into a fierce expression, but it gradually softened until his eyes opened. He gave her a lazy, heavy-lidded grin.
“I trust you believe it’s possible now.” He eased away from her and flopped heavily onto his back. With one hand he groped above him, and a moment later pulled loose the knot that had held her hand bound.
She lay where she was. Not only was it too much effort to move, she had no real desire to. She couldn’t even think of a smart reply to his comment. But slowly her brain began to work again. Absently she reached up and freed her other hand.
This seemed like a propitious moment. He was lying next to her, no doubt feeling the same bubbling contentment that hummed through her own veins. If he were to ask her right now, she would throw her arms around him and declare herself hopelessly, helplessly lost in love. That would be ideal. She even found that she was holding her breath in anticipation of that glorious moment.
But as the silence stretched on, she had to breathe again, and acknowledge that he was lying very still beside her—almost as if he were asleep. In fact, when she stole a peek at him, his eyes were closed and he looked very peaceful. Blissfully happy, but in a sleeping sort of way.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She had waited patiently, hoping he would confess any sort of feeling, but finally she just wanted to know. “Tristan,” she began. “I want to ask you something.”
“The answer is yes,” he mumbled. “Whatever you want, darling.”
“No, not like that. A serious question.”
He didn’t say anything for a very long minute. “Must we be serious? It seems silly to begin now ...”
“Will you give me an honest answer?” She didn’t laugh, refusing to let him wiggle away so easily. “That’s all I want, whatever the answer is.”
“I won’t lie to you,” he said slowly.
Joan stole a glance at him and saw he was awake now, his eyes open but staring fixedly at the ceiling. There was a tense set to his jaw that made her think he was girding himself to deliver bad news. Her heart seemed to shrink. Oh, help. He knew what she was going to ask, and he dreaded it. For a wild second a stupid, inconsequential question hovered on her tongue, but she took a deep breath and screwed up her courage.
“I only want to know what you feel right now. Of course one’s thoughts and feelings can change with time, and as we are married and will be for years and years to come, naturally I expect there will be some change in how you feel—”
“What is your question?” he interrupted.
She hoped she wasn’t ruining her marriage before it was even one day old. “I wondered if you think it possible that you might someday come to truly care for me.”
He said nothing. From the corner of her eye, she saw his face knit in a frown, and then he lurched over, propping himself up on one elbow so quickly she flinched. “What?”
