Medieval Master Swordsmen(405)
He slid the cloak off of her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. With his wife in his arms, he moved to the small bed and carefully set her upon it. Slowly, he pushed her back until she was laying down, with his big body over her. He wrapped her in himself, feeling and tasting something he would gladly risk his life for a thousand times over.
Although he didn’t want to scare her, he was eager to explore her. But he restrained himself for the moment, kissing her, acquainting her with his touch and taste, before gently moving to the laces that his sister had struggled so to cinch up. With a tug, he released the tie and her bodice instantly loosened. She didn’t resist him, nor did she utter a word of protest, so he continued.
He was careful about loosening the bodice. But soon it was falling off of her shoulders and his hand snaked inside, stroking the silky flesh of her collarbone. Moving lower, he could feel the swell of her breast and he could not restrain himself from gently stroking, touching, moving toward the swollen nipple. When his fingers finally moved across the hard, red peak, he let out a ragged sigh. Had he possessed any less self-control, he would have taken her at that very moment.
His desire was beginning to overwhelm him. Her gown came off in inches, moving down her torso, exposing her breasts, before moving to her waist. He tugged gently, removing his own armor in pieces even as he undressed her, which was no easy feat. He kept his lips on hers constantly, kissing her until she could hardly breathe, tasting her deeply. In time, her gown was off and his tunic with it. His leg armor was a bit trickier and more than once he apologized, left her mouth, and unlatched something. Sections of armor hit the floor like metal rain drops.
When his breeches finally came off and they were both as naked as the day they were born, he stopped long enough to look at her; she was all he had known she would be. Her breasts were round and white, her stomach flat, her legs smooth and shapely. He admired her as one would have admired the most magnificent of sculptures, a work of art that could never be duplicated.
“What’s wrong?” Derica whispered.
“Nothing, sweetheart.”
“Then why do you stop?”
“To look at you.”
It was her first flash of self-consciousness and Garren gently grasped the hand that came up to cover her nakedness. He kissed her hand, her lips.
“No, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You will not hide from me. You’re the most glorious beauty I have ever laid eyes on.”
His kisses had fogged her mind. But when he stopped, the fog cleared and Derica was becoming uncomfortable with her state.
“Garren, I….”
“What?”
She wasn’t sure how to put the words. “I… I have never let anyone, save Aglette, see me without clothing. I am not sure….”
“I am your husband. ‘Tis my right, and only mine, to see you unclothed. Does this disturb you?”
She shrugged. “It should not, I know, but….”
“If you are uncomfortable, we can stop. I shall be content to hold you in my arms all night long, with or without clothing, however you wish.”
She looked into his eyes and steadied herself. “I do not want to stop,” she assured him. “I have been waiting for this moment for as long as you have.”
He touched her face, her hair. When he spoke, it was almost a prayer. “Christ, what have I done in my life to deserve someone like you?”
She smiled timidly, trying to be brave, anxious of what was about to happen between them. All she knew was that she wanted him, although she knew not how.
His body was big, hard, warm and musky. Though she’d never known a man intimately, she knew he was something she would come to crave. As he kissed her strongly, his hands moved to her breasts and he fondled her tenderly. His mouth moved down her neck, biting her gently, until he reached her nipples.
Derica gasped as his warm and wet mouth began to suckle her, gently at first but with increasing ardor. When he finally took her, it was with little pain. She thought the sensation a bit uncomfortable at first, but that quickly passed. The fog of passion quickly shrouded her mind again and her body began to behave in a way she never thought possible. She clung to him, wrapped herself around him, relishing every move he made. She could hear herself gasp with every touch, every stroke, and it oddly excited her.
Excited was not an adequate word for Garren. He’d never had anything so sweet. It was as if they had been doing this together their entire life, so brilliant the sensations. Although he’d always exhibited remarkable control, he knew he would not last much longer with her. He could feel his loins burning with a fire that could not be controlled. When he touched the place where their bodies joined, Derica stiffened and cried out as though seized by the most exquisite pain. It was his undoing, and he allowed himself a tremendous release. His thrusts slowed until they stopped completely as their first frenzy of passion was sated.