by Faye, Amy
She didn't want to tell him that it was because the Bible said that the purpose of marriage was to create new life, because every indication she'd ever gotten from Dan was that it wouldn't mean anything to him at all what the Bible said. It would be enough that it meant something to her, of course, but it was no different than just asking him to do it for her sake.
And she definitely didn't tell him that it was because she wanted him so bad that she couldn't think straight. That she had dreams about him taking her every single night, and she wanted those dreams to stop as much as she wanted them to continue.
She didn't tell him that, because it gave off an entirely different wrong impression, and she had already made enough mistakes.
So she gave him no reason at all. And even still, because she'd asked him to, and perhaps, she hoped, because he wanted to, he nodded and kissed her again. Harder, this time. With more need. More physicality.
It was going to be a long couple of hours.
12
Dan felt a lot; luckily, at least for now, nervousness wasn't one of those things. He was forty years old, just about old enough to be Sarah's father, and it was hardly his first time that a woman had wanted to go to bed with him.
And yet, something was different. Part of him knew what it was, and yet, none of it made any sense, and it had to make sense, somewhere down the line. He kept telling himself that, but eventually he had to accept the reality.
He'd had virgins before, one or two. He'd had plenty of women who weren't, and he knew from the most obvious signs that Sarah wasn't. He'd had reserved or shy women, and she might have been that, too. He'd had pretty women, and she was one of the prettier. Would be one of the prettiest, not just for his taste but for any taste, if she didn't have that bent-back, weak-willed look to her.
That wasn't enough to explain the difference, though. The truth was that there was only one thing that could explain it, and it explained everything, real neat and tidy.
A week was a relationship, but it wasn't much of one. It had taken longer with many of his girlfriends, though he didn't often have one. That list was short, at least.
This would, however, be the first woman he'd married for the right to take to bed. Or, married for completely different reasons, and earned the right in the doing.
Over the coming days, their houses would well and truly merge; today, though, Sarah was coming home with him, and in the morning, he would send a few men and a truck to pick up her things, in particular the cribs, and he and Sarah would go to personally retrieve the little girls.
There was a lot he was uncertain about. Marriage was a big thing, and he'd known it was a big thing. Falling in love, finding the exact right person, spending months or years proving to yourself that they're right, and proving that you're right for them, was a big thing. Marriage was a fairly small investment compared to that, because his risks were low.
He felt something touch his hand, and then felt Sarah's fingers interlock with his. It made him feel jumpy, just having that contact. He pulled away and then regretted it a second later, but it was already done. He was her husband, and he was apparently going to be making love to her twice a week from now until... who knows. Until forever, as far as he knew.
There was going to have to be a conversation about that, of course. But that would all come later. There was no reason to worry about far-flung future gray-areas and uncertainties. He worried anyways, but he told himself not to, and pretended that he could just as easily ignore it all.
"We're here," he announced. He said it to nobody in particular, more to the window than even to the cabin of the car, but the only one who needed to hear it was Sarah. She leaned down into him, her eyes scanning. He pointed with his left hand, the nail tapping against the window as he did it. "That one."
True to his word, the driver slowed to a crawl and made the left turn into the driveway, if it could even be called that, at this size. It was wide enough for two cars at a time, and led up to a wrought-iron gate.
It opened in front of them, and the path went off in two directions, one on a looping path to the front door that escaped on the other side of the house, and the other that led back, to the garage. It must have looked nice to her, he thought. But she kept her face neutral. He'd seen the area that she'd been living in, and though he'd seen some rich-looking kid trying to talk to her, he had no way of knowing what kind of house that kid lived in.
"Home, sweet home," he said softly. The car moved slowly up the driveway until it pulled to a stop right in front of the door. He opened his door, and Sarah opened hers, and they stepped out. Dan, at least, was glad for the opportunity to stretch his legs. Everything was cramped for him, with his long legs, and it was nicer to stand or sit at an open chair, but ceremony was another matter entirely.
He fitted the key into the door and turned the lock, and pushed it open gently, stepping back to allow Sarah. She looked stunned for a moment, for reasons the didn't care to explore too deeply, when a wild hair caught him, and he ducked down.
When he stood back up, Sarah was letting out a yelp of surprise and suspended between his arms. If she wanted tradition, then this was tradition. He slid through the door sideways, letting the door jamb scrape against his backside so that she'd have as much room as he could give.
Then he set her down again, gently, in a mirror image of what he'd done to pick her up. Down, twist, and set her feet on the floor. He straightened, pulled the door closed, and the cool air-conditioned house prevailed.
"What do you think?"
"It's big," she said. There was a note in her voice that she didn't particularly approve or disapprove. It was big, which was true, and that was all it was.
"Do you like it?"
"What, do I like it big?" She turned and gave him a serious look, that lingered for a long, long moment, and then broke into a smile. "Of course I like it."
"Oh. So you like your things big, then?" He waggled his eyebrows at her, making sure that the suggestion wasn't remotely lost on her, and she slapped the back of her hand against his chest.
"We'll have to find out, won't we?"
"I guess we will," Dan answered, and then started to give the tour. This was the foyer, which was big by itself. A pair of sofas surrounded a round coffee table off to the right, and to the left, there was a piano that he'd played once or twice. The room was there for entertaining guests, and it seemed like a little piano was as entertaining as anything, even if nobody could play it.
Through the left door was a lavatory; straight across was the hall, which led to the den, and further to the kitchen. The den, in turn, had a section that led off to a little private cinema. The stairs off to the right went up to the second floor, which had his study if he ever worked from home, which was somewhat rare, and a small library, and several guest bedrooms, and of course, at the furthest extents of the house, the master bedroom. That was where she'd be sleeping, and presumably, for at least another few weeks, so would the girls.
It was a large house, he thought, and she seemed to agree, even if she had the good taste not to say so. A house much, much too large for one. Cavernous for two. Still overly spacious, even for four.
"You could have quite a large family, here," she said as she walked through the hall. She said it with a note that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. An edge to her voice that said she meant to make an effort of it.
"Yeah," he said, hoping to sound neutral but in the end, probably coming off as cagey.
She turned as he showed her into the master bed. She would need to know all kinds of little details, probably; what time he tended to come to bed, where he kept the toothpaste. All kinds of stuff. Most people these days found out well before they were husband and wife, because they lived together long enough to get a sense for it.
Instead, here he was giving her the tour as if she were a guest, and she was about to sleep in the same bed as him.
She didn't seem to be interested in any of that. In fact, he'd barely started
the rehearsed speech when she turned, blocking him in the doorway, and stared at him. And then she was leaning into him, her lips meeting his for a third time that day, and more fiercely than any of them.
Her arms wrapped around him, and his around her, and he squeezed tight. Then they were both moving with the desire for what was going to happen next.
13
She'd done it before, a couple of times; she wasn't totally inexperienced in the bedroom, at least, and that was something. She didn't suppose that played very heavily into what her body was feeling, though. If she believed her body, then it was as if she'd never heard of sex, never mind given birth to twin girls.
Butterflies had been swarming in her stomach since they'd gotten in the car, like they never had before. She swallowed hard as he pushed her back and looked at her. What was he thinking? She shivered. She wasn't the best-looking girl in the world, as far as she knew. The dress did something for her, of course. At least she could say that. But she was too thin, not at all the 'feminine ideal.'
Dan's expression was inscrutable. She forced herself not to shrink away, though it was a challenge. Then he slowly turned and closed the bedroom door behind him, shrugging his jacket off as he turned. He dropped it on the table by the door, folded in half.
The tuxedo was not an unappealing look for him, but it had a boxy cut that hid most of his torso. The shirt underneath, on the other hand, didn't have that problem. It stretched to contain his shoulders, across his broad chest.
"You're sure about this?"
She tried to tell him that she was, but the words wouldn't come. So she did the next best thing to answering him, and nodded. He let out a long breath, sounding unsteady. If anything, she'd say that he sounded almost as unsure of himself, almost as nervous, as she did. She didn't know how to feel about that, except that she thought she liked it. She thought she did, at least.
"How do you want to do it?"
She swallowed hard as he stepped towards her, loosening a cuff link. Then he loosened the other. She tried to find the words to answer him, to say something back. Anything. He just stepped closer again, until he was inside her space, invading that the same way that he had invaded her mind since their first meeting.
"You want it gentle and sweet? Rough? What kind of thing are you into?"
She blinked at him. Both suggestions sounded appealing in their own ways. She'd never had it gentle. Cole was a rough man, and he took what he wanted from her. She let him. Hell, as wrong as it had been for her to think it, she liked it. Not that she'd have admitted it to anyone else, but she wasn't going to lie to herself, at least. She let out an unsteady breath and looked up at him and opened her mouth.
"I just want you," she said. "However you want. There'll be plenty of time later."
He reached down and traced a line up her side. Even through the lace of her dress and the heavier fabric of the corset underneath, she felt his finger trace that line and shivered.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He dropped it onto the bed. It was thick and leather and seemed to fit him perfectly. Like everything about him, it was big.
He pulled her in tight, then, pressing a kiss into her lips. She didn't shy away from it this time. She wanted him, wanted it. His arms wrapped around her again, and she melted into that grasp. He was strong, stronger than any other man she'd ever known in her life. Not that there had been many who tried to compete.
Then he lifted her up, hefting her easily in his arms, and then tossed her onto the bed. She bounced once, and then propped herself up on her elbows. "We've got to get those clothes off you," he said, his voice low and thick with need.
Sarah turned over obediently, showing him her back and letting her feet kick out a little bit for him. He leaned down over her, enough that she could feel something halfway-hard press against her thighs as he leaned. She heard more than felt a zipper working its way down her back, and her dress fell away along with it.
She'd never been one for fancy underwear, in her day-to-day life, but today wasn't exactly the average day for her, which was why she'd allowed herself a garter. There was something sexy about it, even to her. From the way that he sucked in a breath of air, she thought that he found the same thing.
Then she turned herself back over and let him work the dress down over her hips, revealing her underwear completely. He raked his eyes across her body, and for a moment she worried that he would find something missing. Something lacking. Something that he disapproved of. If he did, then he didn't make any sign of it.
She shivered hard at the look in those eyes. Then he pulled at the string holding her corset tight, and it came apart easily enough. She reached for the steel clasps holding it shut around her, but he caught her hand and pushed it away. He would do it himself. She laid back and let him.
"Beautiful," he said softly as the cloth pulled away to reveal her soft flesh. It was so soft that she thought that he must not have realized he'd spoken it aloud at all. Then he leaned over her, his weight pressing down halfway on her. The hardening lump at the front of his pants stiffened further against her thigh, and he took one stiff nipple between his lips.
Sarah gasped, something decidedly different about the feeling when the girls fed. Something more erotic. The feeling only redoubled when he traced a finger up the inside of her thigh, tracing over the garter on her thigh and then reaching up higher to unclasp it.
She tried to press herself closer to him, to get his fingers closer to her entrance, but she couldn't get him close enough, not without making it obvious what she was doing.
Then he moved to the other thigh, tracing the line up from her knee to where the garter wrapped around her thigh, tracing the straps up to the belt and unclasping that as well. Then he traced the line back down. His fingers crossed over her mound as he moved down, sumptuously close to her entrance. Close enough to force her imagination exactly in that direction.
Dan moved his lips away from her breast, kissing a line higher and higher on her chest until he reached her collarbone, then he traced it out to her shoulder, kiss by kiss, inch by inch. Then up her shoulder to the nape of her neck, pressing each kiss slowly and softly, until she thought she as going to go crazy.
He hooked one hand into the elastic of her stocking and pulled down, tracing a burning line where his skin touched hers all the way down from her thigh, dangerously close to her hot entrance to her ankles and right off her leg.
He started at the ankle on the other, tracing his finger up. Tantalizingly close. Enough to make her feel like she was going to go insane. Then he hooked her stocking again, pulled slowly down.
Sarah shivered as she lay there in nothing but her panties and garter belt. He stood over her, looking down. Judging, she thought. She wondered dimly what he saw, what he thought. How he felt about all of it. Though, she knew at least a little bit how he felt, from the hardness between his legs. That gave her at least a little bit of a hint at what he thought of her. And it gave a big hint, emphasis on big, she added to herself, as to what was going to come next.
He pressed a kiss against her lips then, the kiss deepening as he leaned more weight down on her and his fingers started to trace a line down from her ribs down her body, down to her hip, and crossing over her body until they found the place that she'd been wanting him to explore since she stepped into the room, to give her exactly what she'd wanted since she first laid eyes on the man.
14
She was already slick with arousal, he thought. That was good, because as he entered her with a finger, there was no way that she was going to take him all the way without some sort of lubricant, and the natural kind was his preference if he could help it.
He pressed it in slowly at first, and was met with a gasp that he pulled out of her seemingly against her will. She went stiff on the bed and he used his thumb to nudge the crotch of her panties over a little further, to allow him access to the hardened nub at the top of her entrance.
Then he pressed down on it lightl
y and nudged from side to side. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat when he did, her eyes closing. Then he started to move his fingers. She squeezed him tight, seeming to want more of him that he was capable of giving. More than she was capable of taking without a stretch.
He started to move a little bit more, his thumb circling faster, though he was careful to keep his touch light and gentle. Her breath sped up to match, heaving her full, milk-laden breasts with every gasp of air. There was plenty there to like, he thought. His expectations had raised to what seemed like an impossible level, compared to the first time that he'd seen her.
Yet, she seemed to be meeting them all in spite of the odds. Sarah's legs started to writhe, as if she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with them. As if she wanted to kick him away and wanted to keep him as close as possible, all at once. He put his other hand on her chest, dwarfing it, and held her down as he entered her with a second finger and started to speed up.
Sarah seemed to find her strength, then, and she used it in an effort to reach for his hands, whether to stop him or to force him to continue he didn't know, and frankly he didn't care. She was going to get what she wanted, what she'd asked for. She was going to get what he wanted, most of all, though. It was just going to take a few minutes.
He flexed his fingers inside her, searching for a reaction that he wanted. She gave it to him almost immediately, her eyes squeezing shut and the opening wide and impossibly hard. There was something in those eyes, like she was seeing stars. He pressed there again and she let out a breathy moan.
"You like that?"
"Fuck," she said, as if it were an answer. He accepted the answer. He preferred his women to be speechless, but this was going to be more than close enough.
He added a third finger and she reacted like she suddenly realized that she couldn't breathe, scrabbling for a grip on anything at all. She pushed against his hand, trying to sit up. She kicked her leg and caught him in the thigh, and pushed away. He didn't stop. "You like that? Sarah?"
