Page 57 of Hers To Command
“And then we would not be here, like this….”
His voice trailed off as he bent again to kiss her, more passionately this time as excitement overcame them, and he eased her back onto the bed.
“If you hadn’t agreed to help us, we would not be here, like this,” she murmured, smiling just as he’d imagined while she entwined her arms about his neck.
He shifted her until her head was on the pillows upon which he’d tossed and turned every night that he’d been here, at first because of his terrible memories and the nightmares they engendered, and then because he could not sleep for thinking of Mathilde.
Lying on his side beside her, resting his weight on one arm while he encircled her with the other, he kissed her first on her lips, then the curve of her jaw, then along the smooth column of her neck. Meanwhile, her fingertips brushed across his shoulders and his naked back. He sidled lower, kissing and licking lightly, arousing her slowly, gently, with tenderness, listening to the soft catch of her breath and making certain it was only pleasure that he heard.
Anything else, any fear or pain, he would stop and wait…but he heard nothing except encouragement and counted himself blessed.
He reached her nipples, the pink tips crowning the rounded peak. He swirled his tongue around the hardened nub, licking with slight pressure as she moaned softly and arched her back. As he pleasured first one, then the other, he caressed her thighs, moving slowly upward, toward the place where they met. Gently, cautiously, as she squirmed and sighed, he skimmed the milky white skin with his palm, first up, then back a bit, then up a little more, teasing with all the patience he could muster even as his shaft swelled and pushed against the confines of his breeches. Only when she was ready would he strip them off. Only when he could wait no longer would he take her, and then only if she was still willing.
Up again and down he moved his hand, as she instinctively spread her legs open to his touch. Then up again and down once more before he moved his hand up over her stomach. He thrilled to hear a little sound of disappointment breaking in her throat.
But he wouldn’t enter her yet. Not until he was certain she was moist and relaxed, anxious for him and not afraid.
If he was patient, if he took his time and made certain, she should feel no pain. Pain was what that lout Roald had given her; he would give her only pleasure, as well as the choice as to whether or not they continued until the zenith, or stopped when she willed.
He rose to kiss her mouth again, his hands stroking her flat belly. How eagerly she locked her lips to his and accepted his tongue into her mouth!
And then she was stroking his chest, lightly, teasing his body to new heights of tense expectation. Her fingertips swept over his stomach, then up to his nipple, making him gasp while they kissed.
He could not wait…he must wait. She must be ready, and willing.
He gently fondled her breasts before he again bent to use his mouth and tongue. She whimpered with need, arching again to meet his lips. He pushed with gentle pressure on the rise below her navel before ever so carefully sliding his hand lower, seeking the moistness that would tell him she was ready.
To his relief and delight, she was—or nearly. He took her mouth again with passionate need and shifted, moving until he was between her legs.
He felt her stiffen then, and her eyes opened wide, dazed and frightened, too. Disappointment swept through him and his ardor began to cool, until she focused on his eyes, and smiled.
“Mathilde?” he whispered softly.
“I want you to love me, Henry,” she answered, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “I am willing and not afraid. I trust you. I love you.”
Looking at her, there could be no doubt that she meant what she said.
Loving her, cherishing her, desiring her, he sat back on his heels and undid the drawstring of his breeches. Then, to his surprise, she sat up and put her hands on his waist. For a moment, he wondered if she had changed her mind, but instead of asking him to go no further, her voice dropped to a sultry, incredibly arousing whisper. “Let me help. I would have you naked as I am.”
Henry moved off the bed and stripped off his breeches. “With pleasure, my lady.”
Mathilde didn’t look away. She studied his face, the planes made more striking by the play of candlelight that made his skin glow bronze. His long hair that made him seem like a warrior of old, in the days when the Gauls were ruled by the Romans. His muscular body….
She looked up at his face. His loving, lovely face. Then she rose on her knees and reached out for him, bringing him back onto the bed with her. Where he would love her. Where he would take her not with force and brutality and pain, but with love and tenderness.
She was ready for him. Ready for his love. Ready for everything as he kissed and stroked her, exciting her and making her pulse race.
He positioned himself between her legs and kissing her deeply, he gave one small push.
Instinct told her to clamp shut. To push her legs together. To protect herself. Her heart overruled that momentary panic and reminded her this was not Roald, but Henry, the man she loved, and who loved her.
The fear drained away as he paused, and she opened to him, encouraging him. Wanting him. Needing him.
Then he pushed again, more deeply, easily, without pain.
Without pain. Sweet heaven, without pain!
His bottom lip clenched between his teeth, he thrust again.
