by Natasha Wild
Richard sucked harder. Her moan sent a surge of raw male power spiraling through him. She was unbearably sweet and he thought he might never get enough. He was very aware of his own effort to breathe, of his desire to take her now, hard and fast and deep.
He slipped a finger inside her again. She was incredibly tight, so wet and hot, and it no longer mattered to him whether she had done this before. He swore she would never remember any lover’s caresses but his. He would do everything to her, worship her body with his, teach her all he knew of loving until anyone else paled by comparison.
When he was finished with her this night, she would know that no one else could ever take his place. He took her other nipple in his mouth, reveling as it hardened beneath his tongue.
She writhed on his lap, and he knew her body was building to a feverish peak. She wanted him. The knowledge thrilled him like it never had with any other woman.
“Stand up,” he commanded.
Gwen stood. Her body pulsed as he rose and removed the black tunic. He wore nothing beneath it and her eyes widened at the sight of his thick shaft protruding from the nest of charcoal curls.
She swallowed heavily. He would never fit inside her. He was going to hurt her.
He pulled her against him and skimmed his hands along her spine. “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of making love to you.”
Gwen fought a rising tide of panic. She was awkward and unskilled. He would be disappointed. “I do not know what to do.”
“I will show you everything, my sweet.”
He bent to kiss her, pressing his hand into the small of her back and bringing her abdomen against his hard shaft. She marveled at the feel of his naked body against hers, hard against soft, unyielding against yielding.
He lifted her against him, still kissing her, and sat down on the chair. Her knees pressed into the cushion on either side of him, and she was almost amazed he had gotten her into that position without her realizing it.
“I’m going to let you do it, love.” He reached for the flagon of wine and poured some into the goblet they had shared. “First you must drink this. ’Twill help you relax,” he said, holding it to her lips. She swallowed, then leaned back and dared to glance at the vermilion head of his shaft cleaving up between them.
Tentatively, she touched it. He grabbed her hand and her heart turned over as their eyes met. Dear Lord, he was so handsome, so dark and beautiful, so… carnal.
“Do not,” he said hoarsely. “Not this time.”
The gravity of her situation—what she was about to do and the man she was about to do it with—rolled through her mind unheeded. Right now, she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything else in her life.
He cupped her breasts in his hands, suckling each of them in turn. Watching him made her weak at the knees.
His thick shaft brushed against her mons. Gwen bit her lip. Was that her making those noises, those little mewling cries, those whimpers?
“Richard…”
He trailed wet kisses between her breasts, up her throat, her chin. She sought his mouth eagerly, opening, coaxing his tongue deep.
She wanted him badly, wanted to experience all the things he would do to her, the promises his touch invoked. She stroked the hard muscles of his chest, kneading his flesh beneath her hands. His skin seared her fingertips. He was supple and hot and exquisite to touch.
He growled his pleasure and Gwen suddenly knew that more than anything she wanted to please him.
He moved his hand between them and rubbed her cleft. It was never enough, only a light teasing pressure that darted away as soon as she felt herself building to an unnameable peak.
“Richard, please,” she begged, unable to stand the exquisite torture a moment longer. “Please.”
“There is only one way to ease the ache,” he murmured against her cheek. He leaned back and she saw that his eyes had gone black with passion. “You must take me inside you.”
She glanced at his thick shaft, disappointment and fear welling within. It was the moment of truth and she didn’t know if she was ready. “It will never fit. ’Tis too big,” she said.
“Oh yes it will, sweet,” he replied, slipping a finger inside her. Another finger joined the first. Her eyes widened as a third finger slipped in. He flexed them, stretching her, sending waves of pleasure along the walls of her sheath.
“’Twill feel a hundred times better than that. Soon, you will be glad it isn’t smaller, I promise.”
She looked at him doubtfully.
“Do you trust me?”
Slowly, Gwen nodded. It was strange, but she did trust him, at least in this. He moved the tip of his shaft within her folds, stroking her as he’d done with his fingers.
Gwen sucked in her breath at the intimacy of it. He urged her up until she was poised over him. “Take me inside you, Gwen,” he whispered urgently.
She swallowed, then gripped his biceps and eased herself down.
“Yes, that’s it,” he murmured, encouraging her with his eyes.
She took a deep breath and tried again. A sharp pain rocked through her as the tight barrier of her virginity refused to stretch. “I cannot go any further,” she said.
Richard swallowed heavily. “’Tis what I told you about. You must get past it.” He held himself perfectly still, his groin tightening in anticipation.
“I cannot do it,” she repeated.
Richard stroked a hand over her breast. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his brow. “I thought Welshwomen were braver than that,” he said softly.
She glared at him. She gritted her teeth and sank lower, sucking in her breath sharply. Richard’s blood pounded in his ears until he could hear nothing but the beating of his own heart. God, what price he was paying for restraint!
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “It isn’t going to work.”
Richard knew he had to take her now, quickly, or lose her. “Forgive me, Gwen,” he said as he gripped her hips and drove upward in one smooth, clean stroke.
She cried out, her eyes dilating with pain. He hugged her tight to prevent her from escaping. “’Tis better to get it over with,” he soothed.
Gwen held her breath. He had lied. The pain was unbearable. She wanted nothing more than to end his invasion of her body but his arms clamped her too tight.
Within the space of seconds, he eased his grip on her. Gwen started to move away, then realized with a shock that the sensation had changed.
She was full of him. He was hard and throbbing within her, and when she moved, sensation streaked from her scalp to her toes.
“You understand now, don’t you?” he asked, his voice thick with the effort his control was costing him. His face was hard, feral, and his eyes glinted with something very near to anger. Gwen realized it was the same fierce passion she had glimpsed on their wedding night. A sudden thrill shot through her. She would be the recipient of it all—and she wanted it all.
“Oh yes, yes I do. Make love to me,” she whispered.
“God in Heaven, I intend to,” he vowed. Richard fused his mouth to hers, mastering her with his kiss as he intended to do with his body. He broke away, gathered her against him, and stood. She was still impaled on him and she wrapped her legs around him as he placed his hands beneath her buttocks.
She buried her face in his neck, kissing, licking, sucking. “Richard, Richard…”
All his good intentions fled him. He had meant to be gentle, handle her with a light hand, but her heated response made him crazy. Her sheath gripped him like a glove and exquisite vibrations shot through him with every step he took toward the bed.
There would be no holding back the stormy passion raging through him. He would give her all—and he would take all.
He slipped out of her as he laid her on the bed. She clutched his arm, protesting the loss.
“Shh, my sweet,” he murmured, fanning her hair across the pillows before taking her mouth in a
searing kiss. When he covered her body with his, she spread her legs instinctively.
“Yes, Gwen, that’s it,” he said thickly. “We’re going to burn together, you and I…”
Her heart lurched at the look of pure animal lust on his face. He poised over her for one breathless moment, then drove into her swiftly, setting her insides on fire.
She clung to him helplessly, let him lead her where he would. He made love to her like a summer tempest; fast, furious, hard. She quickly learned to meet him, to arch into him, to thrust up when he thrust down.
The sensations were cataclysmic, blinding. They fused their mouths together, momentarily silencing the cries echoing in the chamber.
The pressure built within her until she knew she would explode. He sensed it and quickened his movements, then ground his hips against her at the last second.
Gwen cried out as the world shattered into a million multi-colored shards. She spiraled through light and darkness until it pieced slowly together again.
He remained still, whispering to her, kissing her softly, drinking his name from her lips as she said it over and over. Every nerve ending in her body quivered and she was certain the aftershocks had made even her eyelashes sensitive.
He still throbbed inside her and she realized he had not achieved his own release. He began to move, slowly at first, then with the same fury as before. He thrust into her a dozen more times and she felt the hot spurt of his seed even as he cried out.
He did not withdraw immediately. He murmured endearments to her in Welsh, stroked her hair, her moist brow, her lips.
Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes to spill on the pillow below. He brushed one aside with his thumb.
“God help me, I wanted to be gentle,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Gwen, I did not mean to hurt you.”
“Nay,” she whispered. “You didn’t hurt me.” She let her gaze wander over his face, memorizing him as if she didn’t already know every last detail. How could she tell him—this man, this stranger—that he had just made her feel more alive, more wanted, more needed than she had ever felt in her life? “’Tis just that it… it was so beautiful.”
He cradled her face in his hands. “It will always be so between us, I promise you,” he said, and then kissed her.
Gwen slipped a hand into his damp hair. Her other hand stroked his back. She felt him begin to grow and lengthen inside her. Her heart quickened.
“You are ready again?”
“Yes,” he said, slipping from her as he trailed kisses over her breasts and down her belly. “But ’tis better if we wait. You will be sore enough as it is.”
Gwen sighed her disappointment. She shivered. The air was cool against her moist body without him to warm her.
He smiled, then got up and went to get wine. Gwen rolled onto her stomach, sprawling across the soft bedding, her body tingling with new awareness.
When she heard him coming back, she turned over. He watched her, his eyes darkening.
“Get beneath the covers, love,” he said huskily. Gwen pulled the coverlets up from the bottom of the bed and accepted the wine he handed her. He slipped in beside her, then took the goblet and held it to her lips.
She sipped, letting the cool liquid soothe her parched throat. When she raised her eyes to his, he was watching her intently.
He turned the goblet and drank from the same place she had, then lowered it and bent forward to kiss her. The taste of wine on his lips and tongue had the unbelievable effect of arousing her.
She leaned into him, attempting to deepen the kiss, but he only backed away. “Was it everything I promised?” he asked, his beautiful eyes searching hers.
Gwen trembled all the way to her toes. “More,” she breathed softly.
Richard smiled, caressing her cheek with a long finger. “’Tis only the beginning.”
Lord, what more could there be? And yet she knew she wanted to find out. She wanted to experience it all with him. She decided in that instant she would hold nothing back when he made love to her.
When they had finished the wine, Richard yanked the hangings closed and settled into the bed with a sigh, pulling her against him.
Gwen molded to him without protest. She wanted to explore him, to find out more about his body, but she was too shy to do it now. She buried her face in the curve of his neck and pressed her lips to his throat. His arms tightened around her.
Why did she feel so happy? She knew she shouldn’t, but she didn’t want to analyze it right now. The fact was she felt wonderful lying in his arms. His scent mingled with hers, reminding her of the beautiful intimacy they had just shared. If being with a man was always this way, it was no wonder the castle wenches were so eager to bed the knights.
No doubt they’d been just as eager to bed their lord. She shoved the disturbing thoughts aside and concentrated on the man next to her.
What would her life be like now that he was home? She’d come to enjoy the independence she felt in managing a household. Would he take it away? It was in his power to do so. He could order her to stay in this room and perform for his entertainment during the day, and when the day was over, he could order her to perform for his pleasure.
That last thought was not without merit.
“You have made some changes,” he said suddenly.
“Aye, it seemed for the best.”
“I’ve only been in the hall. Will I find the rest of my castle as changed?”
“Aye,” she said softly. “You are displeased?”
He was silent for a moment. “I was at first. Just a little,” he added when she stiffened. “I thought you’d had no training, being Welsh. It was quite a shock.”
For once, Gwen was not offended. She laughed. “Ah, but you forgot about Elinor. ’Twas she who whipped my father’s hall into shape. I could not help but be influenced.”
“’Tis been a long time since things were in order around here. ’Tis not a high priority for fighting men.”
Gwen wanted to ask if Elizabeth had kept the castle properly when she was alive, but she could not bring herself to utter the name during this new closeness.
“’Twould not have been possible without Owain,” she said.
“I told him to obey you as he would me, but I think he would have done it anyway. He’s taken a liking to you.”
Gwen stroked the side of his face, unaware of how tender the gesture was, or of the hidden things it stirred within him. “You told him to obey me?” she asked.
He had not forgotten her! He’d made sure she would have Owain. Without thinking, she turned his face and pressed her lips to his.
He cupped her cheek. “Aye, I did. But tell me, love, how did you manage to get Oliver to do what you wanted?”
Gwen’s heart quickened. “I threatened him.”
“You threatened him? With what?”
“I threatened to dismiss him.”
Richard chuckled. “I cannot imagine Oliver believing such a threat.”
Gwen smiled against his throat. “He didn’t at first.” She raised herself to look down at him. There was still enough light that she could see his features. She decided to take the plunge. “He said he would only believe it if you said it. So…”
“What?”
“You might get angry.”
He brushed her cheek with his finger. “Tell me anyway.”
“I asked him if he wanted to gamble on who had more influence with you, him or me. He decided not to take the chance.”
Richard laughed. “You must be mighty convincing if he found thirty years service lacking against your claim.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly play fair. I suggested that since our marriage you found certain… ummm, pleasures… with me that would very likely influence you in my favor.”
Gwen swallowed. There, she’d said it. Now he wouldn’t have to hear it from anyone else. She thought her heart would stop beating while she waited for his response.
He pushed her back on the pillows, his kiss
as sensual as hers had been tender. Gwen’s arms slipped around him.
“You could just be right about that, sweet,” he murmured thickly.
His manhood pressed against her abdomen and she tried to shift beneath him, wanting him deep inside her. When they had been joined, she had felt his strength coursing through her as if it were her own, and she wanted to know that feeling again.
“’Tis too soon,” he said, sucking her nipple into his mouth.
Gwen moaned and arched into him. “Please, Richard…”
“I’ll hurt you…”
“Nay…” Her hands closed over the taut muscles of his buttocks.
He groaned. “God, you really don’t play fair, my sweet. Are you certain you want me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. Please, Richard…”
“’Tis selfish of me, but I cannot deny my own needs when you are asking me to do it.” He shifted downward. She spread her legs and lifted her hips. They both groaned as he slid inside her.
If she’d had any doubt the sensations she’d experienced had been real, he proved it to her again in exquisite detail.
They fell asleep much later, bodies sated, clinging to each other in sleep as they had in passion.
20
Despite having spent weeks in the saddle, resting infrequently and riding hard, Richard was awake at dawn. It was the warrior in him, ever used to arising at first light when the enemies’ camp was beginning to stir as well. Men didn’t stay alive by letting the enemy catch them in their beds.
His body ached. He’d made way too many demands on it. First, the ride through the borderlands, then the night spent indulging in pleasure. He started to stretch, then became aware of the small form clinging to him. At the same time, his sleepy senses recognized the sweet scent of roses.
Gwen.
Richard brushed aside the riot of fiery hair. She was beautiful. He hardened instantly. God help him, he wanted her again.
There was nothing unusual in that, but he acknowledged it was much too soon. He doubted she’d welcome him once she became aware of the soreness that accompanied losing her virginity and making love half the night.
