by Raine Miller
Settling in next to her, he had a vision. It flashed forward many years. It was him doing this very thing—slipping under the covers with Imogene already there, waiting for him. A simple act, but powerful in its meaning to him. He felt guilty, like he did not deserve to be this happy. As he pulled her to him, he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you so much…these words are not enough for what I am feeling right now. They cannot possibly do justice to this experience with you.”
Imogene moved her hand over his body slowly. “I had no idea…no idea that it would be like this.” Her hand traced his face and then his neck. She explored his chest and shoulder, moving down his arm to his waist, and across his ribs to his stomach, over the trail of dark hair that dipped down to his cock.
She appeared fascinated by his body. Her skin was so smooth and soft, so different from him.
“You are beautiful, Graham,” she breathed. “You are magnificently made—”
He cut off her words with a deep, hard kiss. Imogene’s open admiration of his body had inflamed him beyond his ability to rein in the desire for more.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth, taking her hands and pinning them to the bed before burying his cock into his beautiful wife for a second time.
And he didn’t stop until she’d shouted out evidence of a second pleasuring…
They drifted into a half-sleep of contentment, just two lovers tangled in bed together when he asked, “How do you feel, chérie? How are you, right now?” He hoped she would tell him.
It was a moment before she answered. “Filled-up, possessed, loved…warm inside, so warm.”
Her lovely words moved him. Pulling her up against his chest, feeling her breasts and skin meld with his, he was utterly gratified. “You warm me, Imogene. With you in my arms, I’ll never be cold again, not in the whole of my life.” He closed his eyes to sleep in the embrace of his beloved.
She murmured drowsily as she drifted, “I know. Nothing could ever come between us…”
His eyes snapped open.
The whisper of dread wafted past and brushed against the cocoon of peace that enfolded them.
No. Nothing will. I’ll never let that happen.
TEN
That I make poetry and give pleasure (if I give pleasure) are because of you.
Horace - Roman poet ~ Odes, 50 BC
IMOGENE woke. The room was darker now for the candles guttered low. Fire embers glowed in the hearth. Her husband slept next to her. My husband. Watching him sleep, she thought he looked younger, serene, and peaceful in his slumber. No trace of the burdens of daily life he must carry.
Thinking about their love making made her shiver, the images too new and erotic to actually picture in her mind. She had to admit his passionate demands surprised her, being both dominating and needful all at once. Graham’s typical manner with her was usually easy and obliging, so experiencing this fervid, insistent side of him was an unexpected revelation.
It didn’t frighten her, though. She felt secure in his love, and somehow understood his primal need for her. Aunt Wilton had explained it, saying he would take great pleasure in her. Thus Imogene was enlightened as to the power that her acquiescence would ultimately give her. It was an ancient understanding, a ‘riddle’ that women have solved about their men; the covenant between husband and wife.
Graham had certainly loved her thoroughly, his experience in these matters clearly evident. That thought produced a frown. Imogene didn’t want to think too much on the idea of other women being with him, but she was pragmatic for all of her sensitivity; she knew that there must have been others. He was close to thirty years and had lived in Paris, as a painter. Artists’ models perhaps?
She thought back on her aunt’s advice that it need not be dreadful and giggled. Definitely not dreadful!
“Something amuses you, chérie? Pray tell, please share.”
“Oh, I did not know you had awakened. Did I disturb you, my lover?” she asked with another giggle.
“Oh yes, you disturb me greatly. In my dreams you are cavorting about and producing for me the utmost of disturbances, for weeks and weeks now. What shall I do about it? Hmmm?” Reaching playfully, he tickled her.
Imogene shrieked from his tickling. “I never cavort about, sir! You must have me mistaken for another!”
“No.” Graham frowned and wagged his finger at her. “I am positive it was you, and most definite about the cavorting.”
“You cast aspersions to my character rather freely, do you not? What have you to say for yourself, sir?”
“It is an interesting question you ask of me. The thing is, I would much rather show you, than say for myself.” He pulled her to him and pressed his hard cock against her hip, his message clear.
“Again?” she gasped.
“Oh yes, again. I cannot get enough of you.” Graham captured her mouth, took her face in one of his hands, holding her captive as he descended on her lips. “I need to be this close to you.”
This time when he slid his cock inside her she welcomed the hard length of him filling her. It went faster, the feelings more intense, masterful. His domination of her was loving, but total.
He kissed her breasts and told her of his love as he moved, worshipping; adoring her body with his body. Telling her what she was doing for him and how wonderful her cunny felt wrapped tight around his cock. Scandalous words whispered in the heat of passion.
Graham’s passionate need of her was still very new and almost frenzied in its expression. Imogene was completely in his power and feared she would lose herself entirely, in a spark of flame, as it ignited, burned and consumed her.
He consumes me, but it does feel divine to give myself to him in this way. He needs me.
Imogene fell asleep for the second time with this thought in her mind.
GRAHAM left her sleeping, looking like a goddess in the sheets. He thought she might need some time, some privacy for herself, so he removed himself quietly from the bed. To leave her, even for a moment, was unthinkable, but he did it anyway.
WAKING came slowly, until the morning sun had broken through the shades. Imogene became aware of her surroundings and blushed at the memories of the previous night. She stretched and turned, finding she was alone. Upon the pillow next to her was a note, and upon that, a hothouse rose. The outside was addressed to ‘Mrs. Everley,’ the handwriting his familiar script.
Imogene,
I hope you are well this morning and feeling somewhat rested. I went out to secure horses for our journey today onto Gavandon. I am anxious to present my beautiful bride as the new mistress of our home. The business that needed attending to is of a tedious nature and you were sleeping so soundly, looking so peaceful, I could not bear to wake you, even though, selfishly, I did contemplate the notion. Our first night together is a precious memory I will hold dear until the end of my life. Look to the breakfast tray, chérie, and you will find a trinket, a love token if you will, from your adoring husband.
G
Imogene pressed the letter to her chest as if to absorb some of him from it. She rose from the bed and found her gown still lying on the floor from last night. Heat filled her again from the memories it evoked. She donned it and located one of the gorgeous silk brocade wrappers that she had ordered in London, to wear over it. In truth, she did ache a little, but it was not bad. Graham had been so careful with her, considerate, solicitous even. She recalled how he had insisted upon allowing him to soothe her with a cool cloth last night, and blushed deeply again.
Don’t bother yourself about being shy with him now for he’s seen all of you and you of him.
Shivering at the thought, she went about her morning ablutions.
When she went into the adjoining sitting room she saw upon the table a tray laden with their breakfast, and coffee and tea laid out. Peering down at the tray, she found a black jewellers’ box. Imogene took in a breath at the sight of the ‘trinket’ inside. It was a pendant on a blue velvet ribbon. A
puffed heart of gold, heavily engraved, rimmed with tiny pearls. On the back was the inscription: I, You hold my heart, G.
Imogene tied the ribbon around her neck, her hands shaking just a little. She put her fingers over the heart pendant and held them there. Feeling loved and cherished by her husband, she sat in the sitting room, sipping her tea, lost in thought, emotions welling up again and nearly causing her to weep.
“Ah, the beauty has awakened from her slumber.” She heard his voice before she felt his strong arms wrap around her from behind. Lips grazed her neck, kissing below her ear. “Good morning, my lady. Does the trinket please you?”
“Oh, Graham.” She reached a hand back and touched the side of his head. “It is so beautiful and precious to me, as are you. I will cherish it forever. You spoil me. But truly, it is hardly a trinket.”
“On the contrary, chérie. Your beauty outshines that trinket a hundredfold. I fear you are not spoilt yet, just prone to a little reckless cavorting about in my dreams. I was blessed with the most satisfying dreams last night—probably the best I have ever known. And I can assure you there was a great deal of reckless cavorting involved.”
“Ha, you devil!” She spun and leapt up from her chair, facing him. “If I am prone to reckless cavorting, the fault is all yours for imagining me as a cavorter in your dreams. The next time you find me there, cavorting recklessly that is, I hope I am wearing this pendant.” She patted the heart lovingly with her fingers.
“Point taken, Mrs. Everley.” He gathered her into his arms. “You are wise beyond your years, and quite onto me I fear.” Graham kissed her deeply before pulling back to seek her eyes. His teasing put aside, eyes fiery with emotion, he whispered, “I love you, and thank you, for last night.”
“As I love you, and it was my sincerest pleasure, my husband.” She felt herself flush.
“Still blushing prettily I see.” He stroked over her cheek. “Are you truly well this morning, Imogene? I was not too…demanding? If I was, I am deeply sorry. You create such a need inside me, to possess you, and to love you that I simply lose my self-control. On my honor, I will strive to be more of a gentleman in the future.”
Imogene opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again as she composed the words to say to him.
“My questions have struck you dumb, I see.” He frowned. “Not a good sign—”
She shushed him with fingers to his lips. “Stop. You are blabbering,” she said very softly. “There is to be none of that. No more talk of offending me with your, ah, passionate ways. I am perfectly well and happy this morning.” She tipped her finger at him. “I absolutely will not hear any talk of you striving to be more of a gentleman. Understand that you made everything perfect for me. Truly you did. And one more thing, my stormy lover,” her voice lowering, “I love you, just the way you were last night, and the way you are right now.”
Graham’s beaming smile in response to her little speech reminded her of a schoolboy receiving praise from the headmistress.
“Will you join me for breakfast? May I offer you some tea or coffee?” she asked him.
“Are you in need of sustenance, my love? I know I kept you quite occupied until late into the evening.” He arched his brows.
“Yes, actually, I am quite famished.”
“May I feed you morsels then? What foods would please you best?” He swept his hand over the table.
“You are very light-hearted this morning, husband. I thought your intentions were to get organized and moving along toward reaching Gavandon. Anxious to present the new mistress and all that? Am I mistaken in this, sir?” she questioned, archly.
“Thank God I wedded you, Mrs. Everley. You are the epitome of efficiency and organization. And a more beautiful task master could not be found anywhere, I am sure. Well done, my love.” He reached for her again. “You are just what I needed in a partner because I am so easily distracted, you see.” He teased, playfully kissing down her neck and shoulders.
“Really, my darling,” she said with a mock sigh, “joviality abounding at every turn? Who would have thought it? The somber Lord Rothvale teasing and joking at all hours of the day and night. Hardly possible most would declare. Why, I daresay people would think you quite unhinged in your present state.” She loved teasing him.
He touched the tip of her nose. “Of that I have no doubt, chérie, so it is good they cannot see me now.” Sitting down, he pulled her onto his lap sideways, clasping his hands to hold her. “Chérie, please oblige me and let me tell you a little story, a fairy tale really. Will you hear it?”
“Yes, please.”
“Are you comfortable before I begin? Would you like to have your tea? A bun? Toast?”
“No more dallying, please. You’ve promised me a story, and now you must deliver.”
“Very well…”
Once upon a time, there was a man, not so young, but regardless, came to be under a terrible curse. He was turned into a dreadful, ugly toad and found himself in a land of fools and leeches. The toad was lonely and unhappy and could not see how he would ever escape from his misery. His particular curse required a beautiful princess to love him without pretense and see through all of his toadiness underneath to the real man, and into his true heart.
Luckily, for this particular toad, he came to the notice of the most beautiful princess in all the land. She was not only beautiful, but also the wisest and kindest and bravest princess as well. Giving freely and generously of her kindly nature she accepted the toad as he was. The toad was desperate for the princess to love him, not because she would release him from his curse, but only because he loved her most ardently, and could not imagine life, any life, in any form, without her love in return.
The toad persisted valiantly to win the princess and made many mistakes along the way.
He embarrassed and pestered the princess, with his inappropriate, toad-like behaviours. He was a complete and incomprehensible idiot in love, subjecting himself to the amusement of others, but he never gave up trying to win her. Finally, one day, his joy was complete when the princess declared her love for the toad. The lucky man was restored to his human form, the ugly toad exterior gone forever.
As the man and the beautiful princess were married, he made a vow to himself that he would appreciate the blessings this life had bestowed upon him and to take joy in the things, great and small, that graced his life. He would pledge to spend his life loving the beautiful princess and her happiness would be all he would ever need to make his own complete.
Imogene had become very still during his story, her heart filling with emotion. Unable to speak, she peered into his eyes as a big tear spilled down her face.
Graham took her face lovingly in his hands and kissed away every tear. He held her on his lap for a long time, their foreheads resting together. The emotion of the moment washed over her like a waterfall. He kissed her heart pendant where it lay in the hollow of her throat, whispering, “You do hold my heart.”
“And mine,” she whispered back.
A moment later, he asked, “Did you like the story?”
Imogene could hardly speak an answer. “I declare it is my favourite story, the best I have ever heard. I wish it was written down so I could read it over and over again and never forget the beautiful words.”
“YOUR eyes…I get so lost into your eyes, Graham, and I always have. From the very first time I looked into them. I do love you so very much.”
Graham held her, reflecting on the utter contentment at her profession of her love for him. He just wanted to revel in the sensation of knowing she loved him. He couldn’t speak; he was afraid even, because now that he had experienced her love for him, he knew irrevocably, that if he ever lost it, or her, his life would be worth nothing.
But she wasn’t done with her speech. “My darling, I am afraid you have married an emotional creature, given to fits of crying and laughter in an instant with all sorts of sensitivities mixed in. Try not to make too much of it though. We ladies are made
thus, so as to complement the opposite extreme of impassiveness in the masculine character and,” pausing, she looked at him in question, “you do realize that I am teasing you right now? The story you’ve just lovingly told to me being as far removed from impassiveness as anything could possib—”
He silenced her with a thorough kiss. “I know exactly whom I’ve married, and right now I fear I need you to complement my masculine character.”
Murmuring the words to her, his hands and lips roamed freely. He untied her wrapper, pushing the silk off her shoulders so it slipped down all the way, her fine skin and breasts uncovered for his pleasure. Graham already understood Imogene’s power over him and it was a potent drug.
He got quiet, tracing his fingers reverently over her breasts, circling the dark pink nipples that begged for his mouth. “These are so stunning, as I knew they would be,” he told her.
“Well, I am relieved that you find them to your liking,” she said softly.
“No. It is not just that.” He sighed deeply before trying to explain. “It is that your body is so beautiful, and you are so generous and giving of yourself, and that you love me and want to give yourself to me. I can’t even explain all that I feel. There are not words to express it.” His eyes left her breasts and came to her eyes. “I want to show you, again. What say you, most beautiful princess of all the land?”
“I say yes, but you must allow me something first.”
“What is your wish, chérie?”
“Stay very still.” He felt her hands come behind his head to remove the tie holding his hair back. When it came away in her hand she brought his hair forward, to just behind his ears. He had to close his eyes for the feel of it. “Perfect,” was the only word she spoke.
Graham was on his feet in an instant carrying her out of the sitting room, returning her to the bed. Clothes were stripped off frantically, as fast as he could manage. Imogene lay back and watched him. Her body was stunning, as real to being a princess as it was possible for her to be in his mind. She reached out her arms for him to come to her on the bed.
