"Don't stop," she said, starting to panic. "Take me."
"I'm… taking you, lass," he mumbled in a near whisper. His faint smile charmed her and helped her relax. "Stay calm."
"Aye. I'm calm."
"Ready for me?" he asked.
"Aye." More than ready. She bit her lip and braced for it.
With the surge of his hips, stabbing pain struck her but she forced herself not to cry out. Though tears flooded her eyes, she didn't want him to know she was an untried virgin. He might stop. Besides, most everyone who knew her assumed she had experienced the bedding. Now, it was true. Despite any pain, she was thankful Dirk was the one bringing her fully into womanhood and not her former husband.
Dirk muttered a curse and ground his teeth. "Mmm… so tight, Isobel," he breathed against her lips. "Relax…" Halting, he gently kissed her face, then ate at her mouth, his tongue once again seducing her. The pain slid away as her body gradually grew accustomed to the feel and size of his.
Strangely, despite the pain, she craved more from him, more moving, more of his erotic invasion. Her body felt hot, wet and tingly where it joined his. Gradually, the sharpest part of the clenching pain slid away and the tension within her eased. He must have felt this too for he withdrew and pushed in again with a sensuous slide.
"Oh! That's…" She didn't know what, but it felt delicious.
He made the move again, a withdrawal and a thrust, deeper this time. Oh, saints, she craved this and more. She widened her legs, hoping he'd give her more, even though the ache and burning sensation had not left her.
He cradled her derriere in his large hand. With a hip twist, he made another deeper thrust.
"Oh. I can't believe how that feels." The spellbinding tingles of pleasure. The overwhelming need for him to fill her. She bit his lip.
He muttered a curse and pushed deeper. "M'eudail."
My treasure? She melted at the endearment and lifted her hips to meet him. This set him off. With a groan, he drove into her again and again, faster with each lunge. Saints! The forceful way he moved scared her at first, but then she understood it. A quick thrusting rhythm that sent wave after wave of stunning sensation through her body, like a thousand stars bursting. She gasped, unable to believe how his body was moving within hers and the pleasure it triggered. Who could have imagined?
He closed his mouth over hers, catching her gasps and cries. He surged into her, but there was no true pain. Not anymore. With each thrust he shoved her higher until she could no longer breathe. The intensity and the pleasure clasped her in a vice, and he propelled her whole body into a devastating frenzy of pleasure-pain. She clutched at his muscular lower back, his powerful, flexing hips, trying to hold him deep within her. It made no sense. Nor could she think. But the grasping need shook her, refused to release her.
His body bowed upwards and he shoved deep, a passionate roar escaping his throat. Warmth flooded her lower belly as he trembled within her, and her body clutched at his, wanting what he offered. Oh, heavens, that was his seed… within her. That was something her late husband had been unable to give her. And she had been blamed for being infertile.
Dirk slumped on her, his face against hers, whispering a slurred mixture of Gaelic and English, curses, praise and endearments. She kissed his cheek, unable to believe the magnitude of what they'd shared. Although she'd experienced pain, she'd relished the pleasure. She was grateful he was the first, the only one to show her what lovemaking was.
His head dropped to the pillow and within seconds his breathing grew deep. His body became a lead weight upon her.
"Dirk? You're heavy." She pushed at him and with a grunt he rolled over to the side. His deep, even breathing continued.
Isobel slid out of bed. A stain of her virgin's blood remained on the linen sheet and on Dirk too. After pouring clean but cold water from the pitcher into his wash basin, she cleaned herself with the linen cloth and then Dirk. He mumbled words while she bathed his member, now more pliable than it had been. Once she'd cleaned it, it began stirring and shifting upright again. Saints! Surely he wouldn't be ready to perform again so soon.
She moved back, placed the cloth in the basin and watched. He sprawled onto his back and his semi-erect member moved to lie on his lower belly. It was not as hard as it had been but likely it wouldn't take much to make it iron hard again. He was incredibly virile to react this way given his injury and the fever, or whatever was wrong with him. Maybe it was the combination of whisky and medicinal tea.
She grinned, wondering whether she dared to climb back into bed with him this night. Between her legs, she felt sore, and her broken flesh stinging, but satisfied warmth permeated her. When she remembered the extraordinary pleasure, the warmth turned into an intriguing and sizzling tingle.