by Maggie Ryan
Stepping into the room, he saw that his bride was seated in the tub. She was scrubbing herself and blushed when she realized he had returned. Samuel placed the nightgown on the washstand and moved a small stool to the side of the bath, placing the tray down.
"I-I didn't mean to yell," Franny said softly, not meeting his eyes.
"I know," Samuel said, shedding his robe. "Slide up, sweetie." His request had her eyes flying to his face.
"You-you are going to…"
"Bathe with my wife," he provided. "Now, slide up so I can get in behind you." She did so slowly, hunching over as if hiding the fact that she was nude. He wanted to chuckle. After all, not only did people did not bathe in their clothing, he'd already seen her in all of her naked glory. Sitting down, he slid his legs out to either side of her, hearing her gasp as their skin met. Not allowing her time to wonder what was going to happen, he reached out, took her by the waist and pulled her back to him.
"Oh!" she said, her body stiffening.
"Franny, relax, I've got you." He took the cloth from her hand, soaping it, and then lifted her hair and moved it to lie over her shoulder so that he could wash her back. It didn't take long for her to sigh, and this time when she bent forward, it was to allow him easier access. He bathed her, loving her soft gasps and moans as his hand, covered in the cloth, slid over her breasts.
"Are your nipples sore?" he asked, bending to place a kiss on the side of her neck.
"Um… a little," she admitted. He couldn't have been more pleased when she added, "But I-I liked it when you… um… played with them."
"I liked it as well," Samuel said, nuzzling her neck before moving his mouth to her ear. "In fact, I loved it. You have beautiful breasts, Franny. I can't wait to draw them."
"Oh!"
"Yes, I'll love drawing and painting you, over and over again. You will be my model and my muse."
He did not read her silence as objection. It might be a surprise, but should not be shock. After all, she'd seen his drawings in the book. His hand moved down to wash her tummy and then he again whispered softly, "Open your legs."
"There's… blood," she said, the words barely audible.
"It's fine, little one. It's just the proof that you gave the gift of your virginity to me."
She allowed him to wash her, only trembling a bit when he moved the cloth from her thighs to her quim. "Sore?"
"Nooo," she said. "Well, maybe a little."
"And did you like it when I took you? When I played with your clitty?"
"Papa!"
He laughed and pulled her harder against him. "What?"
"You shouldn't ask me that! It's-it's not proper!"
"Frances Benedict, you will learn that everything is proper between a man and his wife." Another kiss on her neck and he repeated his question. "So? Did you enjoy making love?"
"Ye-yes, very much," she confessed, her head turning to look back at him. "It was amazing."
"That, my love, is the best answer you could have given." He bent to kiss her lips, pleased when she pressed her mouth harder against his and he could see her nipples hardening into tight little peaks. Yes, the passionate woman he knew was just waiting to be coaxed out was stepping into view. He was indeed a very blessed man.
They shared one slice of cake, and every bite she accepted was from the fork he held to her mouth. A glass of milk followed, and she giggled when he chuckled and mentioned that little girls were not supposed to have mustaches. Instead of washing her upper lip with a cloth, he bent and licked off the milk clinging there. She gasped with pleasure but her eyes were growing heavy.
He washed himself quickly and then stepped from the tub and dried off, slipping back into his dressing gown. His cock was hardening but his wife was growing more exhausted by the minute. Helping her from the tub, he dried her and then slid her nightgown over her head. Drying the ends of her hair that had got wet in the bath, he realized she was truly asleep on her feet as he scooped her up and carried her back into the bedroom.
Slipping her between the fresh sheets, he turned out the lamps, added a log to the fire and then shed his robe. By the time he had moved to her and gathered her to spoon against him, his precious little one, his beautiful bride, was deep in dreamland.
Chapter Nineteen
Franny woke to a feeling of disorientation as she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a large expanse of white linens. Heat flushed through her as her mind caught up with her observation and she realized she wasn't in the room she'd been awakening in for her entire life. When she began to turn, she heard, "Wait, don't move, sweetie." Freezing instantly at Samuel's request, she also remembered she was no longer the only person in the room. "Close your eyes, beautiful." His address had her relaxing as her eyes fluttered shut.
"Good girl, just another moment," Samuel continued with his strange request. Though she didn't understand his meaning, having to remain still gave her time to replay the events of the previous evening. She could feel her cheeks heating as the memories of becoming his wife in this very bed played across her mind's eye. Was it normal for her tummy to tingle and a warmth settle between her legs? She almost giggled, wondering if feeling her nipples begin to pucker would be considered as naughty, since they were definitely moving into taut little peaks.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, feeling a bit strange to be addressing the empty expanse of the bed where he'd lain the night before.
"Finishing our Christmas present," he replied, which only caused her curiosity to ratchet higher.
"Oh, Merry Christmas, Sam—Papa," she said. It was a strange feeling to be speaking with her eyes closed and trying not to move more than her lips, and yet she didn't question his request.
"Merry Christmas, my darling girl." It wasn't but another moment or two before she felt the bed dip and then his hand touched her arm. "You may open your eyes," he said. His smile drew her own as he bent to kiss her. "Good morning."
"Good morning," she replied. He wore the dressing gown she'd seen last night, but she had not seen the pad he was holding before.
"Scootch over," he instructed. Moving a bit, she watched him move to join her, sitting against the headboard and then patting his lap. "Come here."
Franny didn't need further invitation as she sat up and then took a seat in what was quickly becoming her favorite position.
Her husband kissed the top of her head as she snuggled into him. "Ready to see our present?"
"Our present?"
"I know that sounds strange but it will be a gift I will always enjoy and I hope you will, as well. Ready?"
She nodded and he opened the pad he'd brought to the bed, flipping to a page and then turning it so she could see. Her mouth dropped open and her tummy did a flip as she gazed at the drawing. A pencil had been used with amazing skill to capture a woman—no, to capture Franny—as she slept. Her long hair was spread about her, a few strands covering her cheek but not enough to hide the fact that her face was relaxed in sleep. A smiled curved her lips as she realized that in the drawing, her lips were curved as well. Curly long lashes rested on her cheeks, her eyes closed. She was lying on her side, one arm bent, a hand tucked beneath her cheek. The other arm was lying on the bed, her hand reaching towards the empty spot before her, and he'd even included the ring he'd placed on her finger just the night before. He'd drawn the lace of her gown, the ribbons closing the bodice looking delicate over the curve of her breast. Her cheeks heated as she took in the rest of the details. The sheet covered her except for the one leg that had escaped the warmth of the coverings. Her knee was bent, pulled towards her chest, and evidently that movement had made her gown shift to reveal what lay beneath the soft cotton. It wasn't only her bare leg that had been transferred to paper. A plump bottom cheek was half exposed, partially hidden by the hem of her gown before the twisted sheet concealed the rest of her form. Though the drawing showed her exposed to some extent, it wasn't the least bit lewd.
"It's-it's beautiful," she whisper
ed, the artist in her not able to deny what her eyes were seeing.
"No, you are beautiful," Samuel countered, placing another kiss on her head. "I could spend a lifetime just looking at you, drawing you."
She gave the drawing another glance and then turned to look up at him with a soft smile. "You even included a little heart. That's sweet."
"Of course I did. I wanted it to be a true depiction of my beautiful bride." At her expression, he continued. "You didn't know you have a heart-shaped birthmark right beneath your little cheek? Your bottom cheek, that is."
"No," Franny answered, spots of pink appearing on her face.
"Well, you do, and it is absolutely adorable."
"It's a lovely gift, but I'm afraid my gift for you is not here."
Flipping the pad closed, Samuel put it on the bedside table next to the lamp and then bent to her, his lips a fraction from hers. "Au contraire, my love, the only gift I will ever need is sitting on my lap." He finished his statement by lowering his lips to hers. After a long, deep kiss that had every cell in her body thrumming, he lifted his mouth free. "This is my favorite part of Christmas," he said.
"Kissing?" she teased, her cheeks not the only part of her that felt very warm.
"No," he answered with a grin. "Unwrapping my presents."
"Oh," she whispered as he began to pull on the ribbons holding the bodice of her gown closed. It appeared as though her Papa enjoyed taking his sweet time as he slid a hand into the opening to cup her breast and to brush a finger across nipples that were delighted at the attention. She was squirming a bit as his lips kissed her skin and his hands moved from breast to breast. Feeling the obvious evidence of his pleasure in his gift against her hip, she could feel moisture beginning to fill her quim.
He bent to nuzzle her neck, her head arching back to expose her throat to his kisses. She felt him brush her gown off one shoulder so that he could place little kisses across her flesh. Her hands fluttered as his mouth moved down towards the partially exposed mound of her breast. Samuel took one of her hands in his and guided it towards his shaft.
"Touch me, Franny."
Her breath caught in her throat at the order and she felt a bit of liquid slip from her to moisten her inner thighs. She didn't think she could speak if her life depended on it and yet she didn't attempt to pull her hand from his as he pressed hers against the silk of his gown. A soft moan escaped as she felt the hard length of him just beneath the surface of the cloth. It took her a moment to realize that the moan had come not from her own throat, but from the man who continued to lick and kiss and nibble on her skin. Her heart stuttered with the understanding that just as his touch was pleasing her, hers was obviously pleasing him. When the pressure of his hand disappeared from hers, she allowed her fingers to gently explore the part of him that would always show her his desire for her.
When his hand slipped up beneath her gown, his warm fingers sliding slowly up her legs, her teeth captured her bottom lip and she slipped her hand into the opening of his dressing gown. Their gasps were given together the moment her fingers found his cock and his found her core.
"Wrap your hand around me," he ordered softly. "Hold my cock."
Obeying, she gently wrapped her fingers around him, holding him in the palm of her hand, amazed that though his cock was stiff and hard, the skin was warm and soft, reminding her again of velvet. "Like this?" she whispered, unsure of exactly what he would enjoy. "Am I holding you right?"
"You are holding me perfectly," he said. "Stroke up and down, learn how I feel, my love. Learn every inch of my cock." She made a small movement and he continued. "Hold me a little tighter, Franny." Obeying, she gasped a bit when she felt his cock jerk. "Shh, it just proves how wonderful you are making me feel." After a few more tentative movements, she tightened her hand around him and when he didn't protest that she was holding him too tightly, she began to stroke up and down the long length.
"Open your legs for me. Papa wants to play, as well."
Shifting her legs open a bit, it was her turn to gasp loudly when his fingers slid between her slick lips, and her turn to jerk when his fingertip found that spot he'd called her clitty. The feeling that had been slowly building in her tummy shifted to her sex, growing tenfold in its intensity.
"You are so wet," he murmured. Before she had time to become embarrassed at that statement, he continued. "So perfectly wet and ready for me to pleasure you. This is how your body shows me that you desire my touch, my love." His words taught her that just as his cock grew to a rather incredible length and girth, her body prepared itself by the thrumming she felt in her body and the slickness she felt leaking from her and surrounding the finger she felt sliding into the very place he'd slid his cock in to take her virginity. There was nothing to be ashamed of. They were two people, husband and wife, and love in all its forms was a gift they would share for the rest of their lives.
From the moment he'd awakened, Samuel hadn't taken his eyes off his wife. Seeing her sleeping, her hair surrounding her like a halo, his fingers had itched to capture his angel unawares. As he'd sat sketching, his pencil had flown across the page. Once her basic form was captured, his eyes took in the tiny details, the hand holding the pencil slowing as he drew the thick lashes that were darker than her hair but still pale. He'd smiled seeing the soft curve of her lips, and wondered what pleasure she was finding in her dreams.
His cock had swelled as he'd drawn that one bare leg whose twin was hidden, remembering the heaven he'd discovered between them as he made her his. A tiny addition to the drawing that he was quite positive only he was aware of was added with another smile. She'd never even stirred as he'd stood up to make sure that the small shape was depicted perfectly on his page. Her half exposed bare cheek had him needing to control the urge to run his palm across the pale flesh.
When she'd begun to awaken, he'd seen her eyes widen as she realized she wasn't in her childhood bed, and yet he'd seen no fear before he'd asked her to close them again. Her response to his drawing had filled his heart. Though it was merely a sketch, it was the first he'd made of his wife. There would be hundreds, if not thousands, more throughout their years together but he knew he'd treasure this one the most. Feeling her beginning to squirm on his lap as his fingers dipped and played, he grinned. Though he loved the drawing, he admitted to himself that he'd also love the first he'd draw when that plump little cheek wasn't pale. He'd have to use his pastel paint sticks instead of a pencil to be able to depict the flush of her cheeks showing her embarrassment at being placed into a corner, the hue lighter than that of the darker pink or red he'd be using to show that his little one had gotten her beautiful little bottom spanked for some naughtiness.
He groaned when he felt his wife's fingers move over the head of his cock and heard her gasp at the discovery that moisture was not only found between her legs. Her fingers stilled and he continued her education. "It's okay, little one. You are feeling my pre-cum. Don't be afraid." When her hand began to move again, he knew that he needed to concentrate not on the drawing or any future ones. If he didn't want her lessons to include feeling him erupt over her hands, he needed to teach her that there was more than one position in which she would do the erupting.
Pushing another finger into her drew her instant response as she arched back, her hand faltering in its exploration as his fingers coaxed her towards a culmination. "Come for me, Franny. I want you to come for me, now." His two buried fingers began thrusting in and out of her warmth, moving faster and deeper as he ground the heel of his palm against her clitty. When she came with a soft scream, he almost screamed as well as her fingers tightened painfully around his cockhead. Having no desire to disturb the innocence of her complete abandonment as she came apart in his hands, he gritted his teeth until her hand fell away to lie on his bare thigh.
"Thank you, that was beautiful," he said, pulling his fingers free and taking the hem of her gown. Pulling it over her head, he saw that her nipples were tightly puckered, her body quiv
ering from her orgasm. He moved her so that she lay on her back and then shed his robe. Her eyes remained closed as he gave her a kiss, and then kissed and suckled each nipple for a few minutes. She didn't protest as he used his hands to spread her legs, but her eyes flew open when his mouth settled over her pulsating clitty.
"Papa! No!"
"Franny, yes," he countered, lifting his head and finding her staring down at him. "I've unwrapped my gift and it is time for my Christmas treat." He didn't explain further but simply lowered his mouth again, flattening his tongue to draw it slowly up between her nether lips. Her body was tensed but gradually relaxed, her legs opening a bit more as she moaned in pleasure. Suckling and kissing her sex had her squirming and when he lowered his lips over her bud and sucked hard to draw it into his mouth, she bucked, her hand moving to his head, her fingers pulling a bit as they tangled in his hair. Once more ignoring the slight pain, he continued to pleasure her, rolling her clit against his tongue and then giving it gentle nips.
"Papa!" she screamed, her body lifting from the mattress as he felt her explode around the fingers he had slid into her again. She writhed, moaned, bucked and continued to pull at his hair as he kept her clitty in his mouth until a second scream filled the room, her hand finally leaving his head to clutch at the sheets.
Giving her sex one last lick and another kiss, he moved into position, his cockhead pressing just the slightest inch into her hot, pulsating cunny. Bending over her, he saw her eyes open, the pupils dilated and the color darkened with her satiation. "I love you," he said as his lips descended onto hers and his cock thrust home. She arched again, moaning into his mouth after pulling away just the slightest at the taste of her essence on his lips. As he took her, gently at first and then harder when she began to move with him, he continued the kiss, his tongue exploring every centimeter of her mouth until he had to lift his head, giving his own cry when she came again, her contractions pulling his release from him.
