Her Leading Man

by Duncan, Alice

  With that, he drew her into his arms and kissed her as if they were soul mates separated for centuries and only that moment reunited. Christina knew that’s what he felt, because she did, too. She kissed him back, with all the passion she’d kept banked for so many years. She’d never felt physical desire before. She’d never wanted to feel every inch of a male’s body before she met Martin. She’d studied anatomy with the eye of a serious student and scientist. She hadn’t equated the parts of the bodies she’d studied with her own vulnerable flesh, much less with her feelings.

  She did now. When Martin’s mouth softened and became—not less urgent, but less frantic—she felt as if her bones were melting. Her knees wobbled.

  Sensations danced through her body as if a ballet company had taken to pirouetting about in her insides. Her heart soared and swooped and soared again, until she wasn’t sure she could maintain her consciousness.

  “I can’t help it,” Martin moaned as his soft, warm lips moved from her mouth to her throat and his tongue found the pulse at the base of her neck that was fluttering and throbbing like the wings of a hummingbird. “I can’t help myself.”

  Christina, whose brain had become fogged, wasn’t sure what he meant by that. It sounded hopeful, actually, although she didn’t want to press her luck. In order to encourage him without saying something that might trigger his overpowering and inconvenient conscience, she said “Mmmmm” in a way she hoped conveyed how delicious she found his tender assault.

  He pulled her closer to his body—a feat she wouldn’t have believed possible until it happened—and she felt the solid evidence of his desire for her. Christina, who had studied human reproduction in as remote and impersonal a manner as it was possible to study such a thing, felt such a thrill of lust and anticipation, she almost swooned on the spot.

  So he did desire her. Yes! Martin Tafft, the only man whom Christina had ever desired, desired her back. And unless she missed her guess, he was going to take her up on her offer of a sexual liaison whether he wanted to or not.

  That didn’t sound quite right, but Christina didn’t take time to straighten it out just then. Her brain was in too much of a muddle.

  Oh, but this felt good. As his hands began to make a tentative survey of her body, she wanted to writhe into him She heard a gasp, realized it had come from her own lips, and marveled at the body’s ability to function without help from the brain.

  “This is wrong,” Martin muttered even as his hands fumbled with the buttons on her blouse.

  “No, it’s not,” she assured him, starting in on his shirt buttons.

  Since she was still wearing her camel-riding clothes, they didn’t have to trouble themselves with corsets, stays, stockings, garters, and other impediments to their pleasure. By the time Martin had finished unbuttoning her shirt and she had shrugged it off, there was little to interfere with his exploring hands except a thin lawn chemise. He made short work of that, and soon she stood before him, bare from the waist up.

  It seemed almost a reversal of roles to Christina that Martin should be more hampered by his clothing than she. But he was. As he gazed avidly at her bosom, which was behaving very perkily under his scrutiny, with her nipples already puckered and ready for his touch, he had to divest himself of his suit coat, vest, and suspenders, before he could rip his collar off and then hurry out of his own shirt.

  “God,” he whispered—and it sounded like a prayer of thanks, “you’re beautiful, Christina. So beautiful.”

  Christina, who had been taught by a family filled with militant feminist females and right-thinking and supportive males, and who couldn’t even conceive of fainting, again darned near fainted. Feeling suddenly shy and unfamiliar with the sensation, she reached slowly for Martin, gazing at him in much the same way as he gazed at her.

  Because he was beautiful, too. She’d hadn’t really considered what lay beneath the gentlemanly attire he wore each day. But now she feasted her eyes on his manly attributes.

  Tall and lean, he yet boasted a deliciously muscled body. His shoulders and arms were sharply defined by his musculature, and his chest was broad and firm and lightly decorated with fine, light brown, curly hair. He even had the proverbial washboard belly. He was a perfect, healthy, red-blooded, firmly contoured American male. Just like the kind Christina had studied in her anatomy classes—but with his skin on, thank God.

  “Oh, Martin,” she whispered, awed, even as her own awe surprised her. She hadn’t anticipated being surprised by any man’s beauty. She’d figured she’d be fairly immune, what with her anatomical studies and all.

  She wasn’t. She was as vulnerable as a woman with no experience, half her brains, and a head full of fluff.

  Slowly, they came together. Christina could only close her eyes and glory in the feel as their naked chests touched. His chest hair tickled her breasts delightfully. She was even more delighted when his hands tenderly caressed her back and ambled, ever so slowly, across her torso and down to her waist. From there they caressed their way up, until his thumbs barely touched the base of her breasts.

  Everything inside her clenched, and a riot of anticipatory pressure began building low in her belly and between her thighs. She knew what that meant, even though nobody, in all of her classes, had admitted that women could feel these sensations.

  Her father, a broad-minded man and a doctor, as Christina wanted to be, had cleared up any doubts she’d had on that score, bless him. He and her mother had discussed sexual matters with her, frankly and openly, before she started taking physiology and anatomy classes. They’d wanted her to be prepared for the world and considered education her best weapon in conquering obstacles to success. As her father and mother had both told her, many’s the bright young woman whose ambitions had been thwarted by compulsions of the flesh.

  Even knowing and understanding all the things her parents had tried to teach her, she’d never have believed how magnificent a sexual encounter could be. Until now, because she was experiencing it firsthand. When Martin’s hands moved up to cup her breasts, and his thumbs teased her erect nipples, she nearly shrieked from pure pleasure.

  “You’re so lovely, Christina. So beautiful.”

  The scintillating, almost electric, sensation she felt every time they touched had spread through her whole body. She felt as though she were tingling all over and pulsing like a firefly. A fierce desire to feel Martin’s stiff sex engulfed her, and she reached between them to touch him through the fabric of his trousers.

  He groaned. “My God, Christina . . .”

  Not too worried, but craving to understand, she whispered, “Is it all right to do that, Martin?”

  He sucked in a breath when her hand curled around his shaft. “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed, it’s perfectly all right.”

  Good. She’d figured it must be. With his full approval, she continued to investigate. Mercy sakes, he was hard. It wasn’t merely her intellectual curiosity that led Christina to a craving to see it with her own eyes. A little worried about shocking Martin, but being propelled by her own urgent needs, Christina whispered, “Let’s go to the bed, Martin.”

  “Right.” His voice was ragged.

  He surprised her by all but dragging her to the bed, ripping the counterpane and blankets aside, and falling onto the cool white sheets with her in his arms. She landed on top of him, with her legs tangled with his.

  “We’ve got to get rid of these clothes,” Martin gasped after an impassioned kiss, during which Christina discovered she’d been maneuvered over onto her back with Martin on top of her. She was surprised that so much physical action could take place without a person’s even being aware of it as it was happening.

  “Yes,” she panted. “Let’s. I’ll undo my trousers.”

  She was surprised when he chuckled. When she shot a sharp glance at him—her eyes had been closed until she heard his laugh—she was worried to see him shaking his head. He looked as though he were in the grip of strong emotions, which was as it should be—bu
t that chuckle worried her.

  “What is it?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  Still shaking his head, he smiled down at her .It was the tenderest, most endearing smile Christina had ever received from anyone, and it made her want to burst into tears of joy. Good heavens, if a sexual encounter could turn even a hard-headed sensible woman like her into a weeping willow, it was definitely a powerful instinct.

  “I’m only amused because we have to remove trousers from you, Christina. I guess the days of lifting a lady’s shift and skirts are long gone.”

  After hesitating a moment—she still didn’t know whether his amusement was a good thing or a bad one—Christina said, “Yes. I guess they are.” And since she knew this was not the appropriate time to go into a feminist diatribe, she left it at that and unbuttoned her trousers.

  When she’d undone the last button, Martin helped her slip the pants down her legs. “You have gorgeous legs, Christina. You’re beautiful all over.”

  “Thank you.” His comments did much to relieve her mind of lingering doubts about his opinion of her as a sexually attractive woman. In fact, if he hadn’t said a word but only continued to gaze at her with that compelling hunger, she’d have known he found her irresistible. Which was a very good thing, because she felt the same way about him.

  After she’d removed her trousers, she lay back against the pillows, naked but for a pair of newfangled undies that could be worn by ladies under trousers. The regulation pantaloons bunched up too badly to serve the purpose, and while ladies were not encouraged to wear trousers, clothing manufacturers had begun bowing to the inevitable.

  “My God,” Martin whispered. Several times.

  She held her arms up, hoping he’d quit staring at her and resume kissing her. She assumed he’d done this before and knew how it was supposed to go. Although she herself had full clinical knowledge of how sexual congress was achieved, she was an innocent regarding the act itself.

  Fortunately, Martin didn’t delay any longer, but took her up on her invitation. He wrapped his arms around her and proceeded to all but worship her body with his hands, mouth, and tongue. Christina hadn’t known a man’s mouth could be used so thrillingly, but when he tantalized her breasts with his tongue, she nearly shrieked with the rapture of it all.

  Arching into his caress, she cried out, “Oh, Martin! That feels so—so—” “Good” was completely inadequate to describe the sensations she was experiencing, so she left off even trying to express herself and only moaned.

  “You feel like heaven to me, Christina,” he said, rather poetically, Christina thought. She also thought it was lovely of him to say so.

  She was getting impatient. The pressure that had been building in her nether regions was now pulsing and throbbing and all but crying out for some sort of release. Hoping she wouldn’t shock Martin, she reached for his trouser buttons. “Here,” she said hoarsely, “take these off.”

  “Yes,” he said, and his voice was gruff, too. “I’ll do it.”

  Quick as a whistle, he suited the action to the words. Christina shoved her own drawers off and watched breathlessly as he stood and stripped off his summer-weight trousers and his drawers. For a few seconds, he stood naked before her, as if assessing her state of emotional well-being.

  Christina understood why he did that and thought he was being quite considerate under the circumstances. An erect male member was not something a normal young woman would be prepared for. It was . . . well, rather shocking, actually.

  Fortunately, Christina’s medical training served her in this moment of crisis, even though she hadn’t quite anticipated this. She swallowed and, in what she considered a gesture of courage, held out her arms in invitation.

  Martin took her up on the invitation instantly, although not roughly. He sat next to her and lifted her into his arms. “Are you frightened, darling?”

  He’d called her “darling!” Again, Christina nearly lost control of her emotions and started blubbering. Again, her strong Mayhew character saved her from the ignominy. Besides, it would be unfair to Martin if she were to cry. He’d surely think she was apprehensive or unwilling, and that would never do. He might even refuse to carry this incident out to its completion, and Christina was pretty sure she’d never recover if he didn’t do something to assuage her craving soon.

  “I’m not scared, Martin. I want to do this.”

  “So do I.”

  He kissed her so tenderly and so sweetly that the momentary hiccup in passion Christina had experienced when she’d seen his large and alarming manhood was soothed in no time at all. He caressed her body with his clever hands, sending shock waves of sensation through her and making every single one of the cells in her body stand up and sing. It wasn’t long before his hand had smoothed its way down her stomach to the thatch of dark curls between her thighs Christina sucked in a breath, knowing the time was drawing near. She could hardly wait!

  Martin paused, perhaps misinterpreting her gasp. “Are you all right, Christina? Do you want me to stop?”

  Her heart made a wild swoop. “Stop? Good heavens no! If you stop now, I’ll die.” Dramatic, and not something she’d expect herself to say under normal circumstances. But, she reminded herself, these circumstances were far from normal, and her heart and body seemed determined to rule her brain.

  “All right.” He sounded relieved, which only made sense.

  His fingers gently caressed her curls for a moment, before one of his fingers searched more deeply. Christina’s heart plunged, her blood raced, her juices flowed, and she all but shouted in anticipation. When another finger joined the first, and Martin began tenderly probing the damp crevice where so much feeling centered, she reached for his sex, too. Heck, she might as well join in the fun.

  Martin groaned with pleasure, and she was pleased. His fingers dipped a little deeper and rubbed a little harder, discovering, with a little probing, the absolute center of her female desire, and she arched under his touch.

  He kissed her hard. She was a little surprised when his tongue gently pried her lips apart and entered her mouth. It was as if this were a preview of what other parts of their bodies were going to be doing—and the sooner the better, in her opinion. She’d never heard about this kind of kissing. Or perhaps she had. Maybe this is what some of the actresses with whom she’d worked before called “French kissing.” They’d always discussed it in low tones and giggles, and Christina hadn’t paid much attention. Her mind had always been on loftier matters.

  Not any longer. Now she tasted Martin’s mouth much as he was tasting hers, as their hands and fingers worked magic on each other. She felt a moment of panic when he pulled away from her.

  “Are you ready, Christina?” His voice, ragged and breathy, contained an element of urgency.

  She was as ready as she’d ever be, she imagined, so she nodded. “Yes, Martin. I’m ready.”

  “I’ll try not to hurt you, darling.”

  If he kept calling her “darling,” Christina wasn’t sure she’d survive this experience dry-eyed. Nevertheless, she nodded and managed to smile. Her heart hammered against her rib cage like a trapped bird, and her blood felt as though it were boiling in her veins. She’d never understood the metaphors of love before this moment.

  As gently as could be, Martin pressed her onto her back. She opened her arms to him, he guided his rigid sex to the opening of her female treasure, and she shut her eyes as he thrust into her.

  She was surprised by how little pain she felt. She guessed she was one of the lucky females whose maidenheads weren’t so securely, attached as to be difficult to break through. Thank God, she thought with what someone else might have considered blasphemy, but which was for her a heartfelt prayer of gratitude to her Maker. Christina’s God was an inclusive one who didn’t expect everyone in His world to adhere to one specified mode of behavior.

  Martin, panting and straining, had not moved since he’d conquered her virginity. He’d pressed his head onto the pill
ow next to Christina’s face. She turned to see his eyes clamped shut in what looked like agony. His muscles were taut and straining.

  Oh dear What did this mean?

  She said gently, “Martin? Are you all right?” She knew all about women, their bodies, and how painful initiation into the rites of the flesh could be; she’d never heard that men suffered pain, too.

  He lifted his head and smiled at her. She took heart. “I’m fine, darling. I was worried about you.”

  How sweet he was. “I’m fine, Martin.” She caressed the back of his head and urged his face closer to hers. He, obliged, and kissed her tenderly.

  Then, ever so slowly and carefully, he began to move in her. At his first plunge, Christina’s body reacted as if she were a firecracker and someone had lit her fuse. Merciful heavens, how good it felt.

  “Oh, Martin!”

  He stopped moving instantly. Her eyes popped open, and she found him gazing worriedly down at her. She wanted to shake him and tell him to stop being so blasted considerate.

  Through clenched teeth, he said, “Christina?”

  Grabbing his shoulders, she tried to give him a shake, but he was too strong. So she said, “Keep going, for heaven’s sake! This is too good! Don’t you dare stop!”

  With a sigh, Martin allowed his eyelids to drift shut. He also resumed the slow rhythm of his lovemaking. Christina allowed her body to take charge and do what it wanted. What it wanted to do was meet each of Martin’s thrusts with a lift of her hips. Then it wanted to grind against him a little bit, an activity that drew a groan of delight from Martin. Then her legs decided to clamp around his back and hips.

  He seemed to like that, too. It wasn’t long before his strokes became deeper, longer, stronger, and quicker. She matched him stroke for stroke. Odd little noises came from her mouth, too, which she later decided was only another one of her body’s methods of enjoying itself.

  It was as if Martin were driving her body up to some pinnacle. Pressure within her built with every one of his thrusts, until she couldn’t endure another second longer, and everything in her seemed to explode. With a cry, her body convulsed under his, and she tumbled over the edge of pressure into a perfectly delicious sea of satisfaction.