Chapter Thirteen Starting Along

Chapter Thirteen

Starting Along

E lizabeth lay awake in bed. She knew August was still awake, too. She felt his energy, even from his rooms across the hallway.

At dinner, his mood had been high and rather scattered. They’d made little conversation, aside from small talk about Marlow and Rosalind’s visit. August referenced her spanking once, when he asked if she was comfortable sitting. She’d replied with a curt “no,” shifting on her chair, and he’d given her a look that made her think of her conversation with Rosalind.

Has he done anything else…down there?

When his knock came at her door, she took a deep, steadying breath before she answered. “Come in.”

It was not unusual for him to appear at this hour. He’d visited her every night since they’d married, to hold her, touch her, kiss her. When he lay with her in bed, he made her feel like a princess made of something valuable, like crystal or gold. His touches were gentle, if his glances were not. He brought her pleasure, but there was more he wanted. She knew that.

She watched as he took off his robe. Since the first night, he had never worn clothes to bed. She tried not to stare at his long, naked, muscular body, with the smattering of hair upon his chest and…down there, where his thing was. His appendage. His cock , that was the word she must learn to use without blushing. It was just such a weighty thing to get used to. Literally. It was already starting to grow as he slid into bed beside her.

“Good evening,” she said, trying not to sound shy.

“Good evening, darling. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” She slid him a sideways look. “Feeling very well and…brave.”

“Brave?” He nodded, lying back next to her. “Excellent.”

“I’m quite strong, you know.”

“Yes, I do know. But I’m wondering: why do you feel the need to tell me this now?”

Stop blushing, you silly girl. If you were truly brave, you would not be blushing like this.

She touched her cheeks, trying to rub the heat away. “It’s just…just something I spoke about with Rosalind. You know, she and Marlow have been married for some time.”

“Yes. Happily married.”

“Mmm. And she had some advice for me. Well, I might have asked her for advice. I don’t remember. But in the course of our conversation, I might have told her you were, you know, too big to…”

He moved closer. “To make love to you completely?”

“Yes, that.”

“Hmm. You ‘might have’ told her that?”

“I did tell her that,” she confessed. “It was only that she asked how we were rubbing along, you know, in private bedroom matters, as close lady friends might do.”

“Indeed.”

“And I’m sorry if it was a breach of your privacy to tell her how…” Her eyes strayed down to his outsized cock. “How big you are. Perhaps too big to go any further with things, as we have not gone further with things this whole time we’ve been married… But she said you probably were not too big. That perhaps you were only afraid of hurting me, but that I probably wouldn’t be hurt. And even if I was…” Her words came out in a rush. “I don’t think it would be the end of the world if it hurt a little. Does it hurt as much as a spanking? As much as my spanking today?”

“Come here, Elizabeth. Let’s have a look at the damage from that spanking.”

He upended her, eliciting a small shriek as her sleeping gown was swept up, revealing her naked bottom. It took all her will to be still as he investigated her, stroking a hand across her sore buttocks. She was his wife. He had a right to study her, to handle her in this intimate way, but it still felt scary.

Oh, she was not brave at all.

“You’re hardly bruised,” he said when his assessment was finished. “So, if necessary, I can spank you harder next time.”

She met his gaze as he righted her. What he saw there made him chuckle.

“Of course I won’t , darling, unless it’s deserved.”

Elizabeth took small comfort in this reassurance. She wished to leave this topic, to sink down with him in the soft, fragrant bed linens and enjoy his caresses. Perhaps they might even attempt the “afterward” Rosalind spoke of. I can be brave. I must be brave.

“Did you feel a bit sullen after I paddled you today?” he asked, lying back. “You haven’t been your usual effusive self.”

“I don’t know if I was sullen, so much as upset. I still feel…” She waved her hands about, unable to describe the turmoil lingering inside her. “I was very upset,” she said, dropping her hands. “Being spanked by you when you are truly angry is not the same as being spanked by you at lessons.”

“That’s true.”

“Or being spanked when I mean to be comforted, as at Cairwyn.”

He took her restless hands and held them. “But I think your switching at Cairwyn probably hurt more than what I did to you today.”

She thought about that, surprised. Had it hurt more? In truth, the switch had felt excruciating.

“I don’t understand it all. I am… I am trying to understand about…” She sighed. “When I told Rosalind that you’d paddled me, she said you were only being protective, that husbands are sometimes that way.”

“Wise Rosalind.”

“So, I did not sulk long after I cried to her.”

“You cried to her?”

“I felt emotional, August, and I hadn’t seen her in a long while. Well, longer than we’re used to. At any rate, she said that after Marlow punishes her, they use intimacies to reconnect. Marital intimacies, I suppose. And…”

He gave her fingers a light squeeze. “You would like to reconnect with me?”

“Yes. Perhaps. If you wish it. As I said, I’m feeling brave.” She lifted her chin, trying to seem ready for anything.

August considered her a moment, his expression difficult to read. Then, he released her hands and pulled her beneath him, coming over her with his solid body. One of his legs pressed between hers, spreading her thighs. Elizabeth tensed, steeling herself for a joining she was determined to endure.

But he did not shove inside her. He waited, still studying her face, her lips. Her eyes.

“I know how brave you are,” he said, running his thumb’s edge along her jawline. “But if I hurt you…”

His expression tautened, his gaze intent with a hunger she couldn’t name. A hunger she wished he would teach her. She lifted her face to his, hoping for a kiss and getting it. He tasted faintly of sweetness, of after-dinner port.

As he kissed her, nipping at her tongue, licking her lips, he began to touch her as he had in past nights, in his warm, possessive way. She always felt instant heat build in the middle parts of her body, a tension that responded to his touch, whether it was firm or soft, teasing or pinching. He ran fingertips along the outside of her thigh, drawing up her nightgown as he went. He pulled her close, closer, kneading her hip, then her sensitive, recently spanked bottom.

She sighed into his mouth as he slid his hand up her back, tracing her spine. He left her lips to kiss her throat, her shoulders. She arched for him, making herself more open to his caresses and murmuring his name as he nipped at her neck.

“You torment me,” he said, speaking over her distracted murmurs. “You’re merciless.”

No , she thought. I’m brave. She massaged his nape, feeling the tension there, the hard muscles. She pushed fingers into his thick, dark hair and grasped the back of his head, as if to guide him for another kiss, but he was the one in charge, the one whose kisses and fingers held her in thrall.

She felt his cock against her then, like something in a heated dream. It was thick. Solid. It didn’t surprise or frighten her; she’d felt it before. But now, unlike before, he guided it against her quim’s very opening, as if to impress its weight and girth upon her.

I know, August, I know. I won’t blame you if it hurts.

She reached to caress his cock because it seemed the right thing to do. She caressed it often when she kissed it, but now he drew back with a growl.

“Don’t make me lose control,” he said.

“Oh. I didn’t mean to.”

“Let me touch you instead.”

He let out the breath he seemed to hold and slid his fingers between her legs, just where he usually kissed and licked her, and made her tremble. She trembled now, astonished as ever at the way his touch could be so light, yet cause so much delectable sensation. He kissed her lips, and she meant to kiss him back, but she moaned instead at an especially effective caress.

“My goodness, that feels…”

“Good?” he asked.

“Remarkable. How do you know just how…how to touch me?”

“By the way you respond.” She felt his lips curve against hers. “You tell me exactly how…and where… Your body does, anyway. I sense it, just as you sense things.”

That explained why he was so adept at exciting her, as if he lived in her body and could feel what she felt. While she pondered this new and interesting knowledge, he shifted so his cock was even closer to her, poking right between her legs.

Would the hurt come now? She stiffened without meaning to. He made a soft, quelling sound, a comforting shhh . She closed her eyes as his cock parted her down there, prodding her, pushing forward the slightest bit. It didn’t hurt, not yet. She was slick between her legs, wet and hot to ease the movement. She felt disappointment when he pulled away.

“It’s all right,” she said.

“Shh. Wait. Let me…” His voice broke off, as if he were pained.

She felt his thumb on her spot again, stroking and circling, and then a fingertip pressed to her opening, just where he’d prodded her a moment ago. With agonizing slowness, he pushed the finger into her, going deep. She squirmed at the unfamiliar fullness. Merely one finger, yet it felt so large. Once it was seated all the way inside her, he withdrew it.

“Breathe, Elizabeth,” he reminded her, then pressed it in again.

She breathed—shakily—then sighed as he drew some of her wetness across her sensitive button. He slid his thumb over that magical nubbin while pressing his finger deeper still. It felt intensely good, good enough that her hips arched in concert with the movement, drawing another growl from August. But her courage flagged, for she felt full inside already, uncomfortably so, and his cock was larger than his finger. Much larger.

“How does that feel?” he asked. “Open your eyes, love. Look at me.”

She obeyed, meeting his gaze, but couldn’t really explain how it felt. It felt intimate . It felt exciting, but also vulnerable and bizarre. Still, her body craved more. Her hips arched of their own accord, moving upon his thick finger each time he inserted it.

“Will I be big enough?” she asked. “For you to push inside me?” She hated that she sounded nervous. It was just so much.

“You’ll be big enough.” He sounded like he was convincing himself. “I’ll go slow in the beginning. No matter what, I’ll go slow.”

“I trust you,” she said, gripping his shoulders.

He made a rough sound in his throat that was not at all reassuring as he withdrew his finger and positioned his cock against her opening.

She moved her hips to assist him, but he said “Be still” between his teeth, then added “Please” in a slightly less aggrieved tone.

“What must I do?” She only wanted to make it easier.

“Relax,” he said on a great exhalation. “Only relax and let me kiss you.”

He leaned forward, drawing her into a teasing kiss, then began to push his hips forward, closing his teeth on her lip in his concentration.

She tried to relax, but it was the most novel—and terrifying—sensation to feel the huge width of him pressing her open.

“Oh. Oh, goodness,” she said. “Oh, my.”

He receded at once, slid out of her.

“Is it done then?” she asked. “It was not so bad.”

“It’s not done.” He gave a short, wild laugh. “It’s barely begun, but if you wish me to stop… If it is too uncomfortable for you, we needn’t continue.”

She knew, with her acute, sensitive perception, that if he stopped now, it would be an eternity before he would try again. She also knew—perceived—that he ached to be inside her, fully inside her. He hungered for that to his very core. She could hear it in his halting breath, divine it in the way his fingertips trembled against her hip.

“I don’t wish you to stop.” She infused her words with desire, not fear. “Please, don’t stop. Come inside me fully. I’m sure I’ll adjust.”

She moved against him, although he’d scolded her moments earlier to be still. This was not a moment for being still.

He gave that groan again, that growl that seemed to come from the depth of his soul, and moved into her, inch by halting inch. She steeled herself against any sound or reaction, though she wondered when it would feel good, rather than perilous.

“I’m fine,” she said when he paused. “Don’t stop.”

He gathered her closer and pushed deeper. The pressure built and she breathed out, as if to make more room for him. Her body’s own moisture allowed him to keep moving forward, until she was so full she didn’t know if she could bear it. It did hurt a little. It shocked her. I will be brave.

When he finally stopped pushing, she felt in grave danger. She feared she might injure herself if she moved the slightest bit, or perhaps injure him.

“Please…” She looked up at him, beseeching. “Please kiss me.”

He did, holding himself still inside her. It was a voracious kiss, the most passionate one they’d yet shared. Their breaths intermingled, their lips danced together. By the time they parted, the pressure inside her felt more bearable.

“I’m going to move,” he said. “I have to.”

“I want you to. Truly, it’s not so bad.”

He laughed, a woeful laugh, and echoed “not so bad” under his breath. She didn’t know how to encourage him, except with her body. When he moved, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensation of him inside her, very deep inside her. It was actually lovely, when one contemplated it, to share something so intimate with one’s husband, to truly be joined together . Later, she would want to talk to him about it, but now…

“How is it?” he asked, nearly all the way out of her. “Any better?”

“Yes, it’s better. I’m getting used to it.”

“I want it to feel good for you. I want you to feel the pleasure I feel.”

He went into her again, slowly, so slowly. At the same time, he kissed and fondled one of her breasts, teasing the sensitive tip. It brought a sharp, sudden frisson of arousal so intense she clamped down on his cock. He groaned and she apologized.

“I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“You’re hurting me in the best way. God help me,” he added, gathering her in his arms.

She was so close against him, so very close. It seemed every inch of him was touching her, bringing her senses to life. There was no pain now as he slid inside her, no frightening pressure, only a building instinct that he must keep surging into her until they found release. She held onto him, lifting her face when he nudged her to give her more kisses. She offered her lips, and soon her whole mouth, to his questing ardor.

He thrust in her faster then, harder, grinding his hips against hers, making her hidden button throb with arousal. There were almost too many pleasures going on at once; she could hardly identify them all. She could only be swept into a whole new state of being, where his merest touches inflamed her, and hers seemed to inflame him.

“Oh, please,” she said. “It feels so very good now.” She wound her fingers in his hair. “Please, don’t stop.”

She closed her eyes, giving herself completely to the growing magic within her, the blooming heat in that place they joined. Without warning, she reached that apex where all the tension unfurled like an explosion. She cried out as pleasure shot through her body, up to her heaving breasts, down to her shuddering thighs, all while her pussy contracted rhythmically upon his cock.

This was nothing like their previous intimate sessions. He did not react the same way when he came to his crisis. Then, he would gently push her aside and turn away to spill his seed. Now, he drove hard in her, so hard she bounced across the bed, but she did not care. His satisfied groan was far more animalistic as he surged into her with one final thrust, then went still.

Now that she had come back—somewhat—into her senses, the pressure of him within her returned, but not in a bad way. She lay still, rubbing his back, feeling his breath rise and fall. After a few moments, he slid down and out of her, and she felt mildly disappointed that it was all over. He rested his head upon her breasts, above her heart. How it must be beating…

Rosalind’s vague words and cryptic expressions made sense now. What a momentously intimate and wonderful activity, to join in the marriage bed. She’d have a great deal to discuss with her friend once they met up again. How had she never heard any description or explanation of this incredible act before? Why was it such a secret, when it was so wondrous?

“Why does no one talk about this?” she asked August.

“Talk about what?” Her poor husband sounded exhausted.

“What this is like? How exciting it is? No one ever told me.”

He hoisted himself up on one elbow, regarding her in bemusement. “Sex isn’t generally discussed in polite circles.” He brushed aside an errant lock of her hair. “Or public ones, for that matter. And, I fear, not every married lady finds this exciting.”

“Don’t they? Whyever not?”

He looked at her, his gaze full of the passion they’d just shared. “They are not all as brave as you, Elizabeth. You were quite fearless just now.”

Something in his tender expression made her blush.

*

Now she blushes. Little minx.

August had barely managed to retain control during their marriage’s consummation. Holding that control through all her sighs and shudders, her squirming and breathless questions, was perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever done.

He’d known, already, that Elizabeth was exquisitely sensitive, but her easy acceptance, indeed, her joy at his heated invasion of her body was something he hadn’t expected.

He could have done better. He should have done better, but passion had overwhelmed him, and once he was inside her, it was all he could do not to thrust too hard or too deep. He would take her with more skill next time, show her a world of intricate sensual techniques.

He thought back to Marlow’s advice. If you begin slowly and expose her little by little to the harder things… He understood now he could do it. This knowledge both thrilled and unsettled him.

Elizabeth snuggled against his body. He moved so she wouldn’t realize he was already hard again, already primed for a second round. It wouldn’t do to take her too many times at the outset, and risk damaging her lovely, brave body.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked in the silence.

“How long I should wait before I trouble you again,” he answered, honestly.

“Trouble me? What we just did seems no trouble at all.” She traced a finger along his bicep. “And why should you have to wait?”

“It’s better if I do. Trust me. You’ll feel it tomorrow.”

“Like when you spank me?”

He stroked her mussed ebony hair. “Yes. Like when I spank you.”

“Will you feel it tomorrow? As I will?”

“Goodness, Elizabeth. How curious you are about everything. I won’t feel it tomorrow, not the way you will, especially with it being your first time. I’ll feel it in my memory, though.” Like hot, devilish torture. “I’ll… I’ll think about it a lot.”

“That’s very romantic.” She gave a soft, dreamy sigh. “It was a lovely first time, joining together. Did you have a lovely first time, too?”

“I did, Elizabeth. Truly.”

“I mean, I realize this wasn’t your first time just now. I’ve heard…rumors.” Her blush was back, along with her never-ending inquisitiveness. “Was your real first time as wonderful as this?”

“No. Not in any sense.” Like many privileged young men, his first time had been with a high-class courtesan, and he’d not aroused the woman very much with his clumsy technique. “In fact, I’m certain this first time with you is the best of any intimate encounter I’ve ever had.”

She laughed. “That can’t be true.”

“It’s decidedly true.”

“I’m sure I was not at all up to snuff.”

“You were above and beyond snuff, darling.” He rolled atop her, still shielding her from his randy, aching member. “I’ll show you. Let me kiss you.”

His lips met hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth when she gave a small, pleased sigh. He tried to make her feel how she’d affected him, if he could not explain. For so many years, he’d measured women against Felicity, then against his ever-growing perversity. Lovemaking had not felt comfortable, or right, until now.

When they parted, he searched her gaze to see if she understood. She looked back at him with an unexpected expression. Was it…pity?

“I understand about Felicity,” she said. “I’ll understand if you always love her, as long as you also love me.”

“Why…” He shook his head, kicked from pleasant afterglow into a nightmare. “Why would you say that?”

She only kept looking at him.

“Are you reading my mind?” He’d been thinking about Felicity, and now Elizabeth brought up her name. “I don’t want you to read my mind, if that’s what you’re doing.”

“I’m not. I don’t—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“How does it work? My thoughts are my own. Especially here, now.” Not that he had anything to hide. He hadn’t been pondering his love for Felicity, only his love for the woman in his arms. His kiss had been for her. Elizabeth. Not Felicity.

“I’m sorry, August.” Her face fell as he turned away. “I’m not reading your mind, honestly. I don’t mean to. I don’t know why I said that. Perhaps because Rosalind told me this afternoon that Felicity was coming to England. They’re visiting in the spring.”

“As if I care.” He stood and went for his robe. “It’s embarrassing, that people still go on about me and Felicity, only because I wore my heart on my sleeve when I was young and foolish.”

She watched as he fastened the robe’s belt over his still-apparent arousal. “And now you have put your heart away?”

“No. Why would you say that?” He couldn’t govern his irritation. “I don’t care if she’s visiting this spring or ever again.”

He meant it, at the same time he knew it wasn’t true. Was Elizabeth still reading his mind, hearing his disordered thoughts? She’s invading my privacy. Why did I marry a woman with these kinds of abilities? It made him anxious. Self-conscious. By God, he must take care she didn’t glean the unkind thoughts in his head now.

Of all the women in England, my wife had to be a mind reader. Someone with “gifts.” Irresistible, and unbearable.

He felt strongly, suddenly, that he must get away. He loved her, but he felt too vulnerable to her probing gaze. Bad form to leave her tonight of all nights, but he must teach her she could not use her gifts on him without consequence.

“I’ll leave you to your rest,” he said as kindly as he was able. “Forgive me, but I’d rather sleep in my own room.”

“I understand.” Her wide green eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t cry, darling.”

“I can’t help it. You’re angry with me.” She hugged herself, entreating him from the bed. “I’m so sorry, August. I’ve ruined the entire night, this special night. I promise, I can’t read your mind, your thoughts. I can’t!”

“Oh, but you can.” He leaned down to kiss her, this time on her forehead. “Felicity was in my thoughts when I kissed you, but not for the reasons you think.”

“I don’t think anything. I’m so stupid. I don’t know why I said anything about her, why I felt it was necessary…” She reached out to him. “Please don’t go. I’ll feel bereft if you go. I’ll fall right to sleep if you hold me. I won’t perceive anything more, I promise.”

Anything more . She’d as much as admitted to reading his thoughts.

Still, he could not leave her when she pleaded so. He might be angry and unsettled, but he was not a monster. He relented and took off his robe, returning to lie beside her under the covers. She cuddled against him, needing comfort, which he gave to her.

But not to himself. He felt no comfort, not anymore. He felt guilt. He had been thinking about Felicity.

It was such a difficult habit to break.