Night Lights

by Melissa Glisan

  Suddenly uncertain, Margaret backed up against the door. “I-I wish to spend the night with you. Don't you want the same?"

  The warm glow of the candles made his skin seem darker than the shadows as he stalked forward, crowding her back against the rough wood of the door. His forearm pressed against the door above her head, framing her face and keeping her from moving sideways as the fingers of his other hand laced through hers. Gently he lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing the tips of her fingers before spreading them over his cotton-clad chest.

  "Feel the way my heart beats, fast and crazy over you.” His lips hovered scant inches above hers, making her own heart thunder like mad. The heat of his skin radiated through the thin material and she rubbed at the cloth, wishing it gone so she could explore every sleek inch of his glorious hide. Last night everything had gone so fast, she wanted time to savor him.

  "If that is not enough,” he said, his eyes burned like banked coals as he slid her questing digits from his chest lower to press against the hardness tenting his pants. Remembering the soft sleekness she had cupped only hours before, she marveled at the way the erect flesh felt so hard and stiff poking into her stomach. Yes, it had hurt terribly when he entered her body, but the rest had been like riding a runaway carriage—too fast, thrilling and terrifying and over almost before it began.

  "We have time.” His lips moved across her temple, burying his nose in her hair. Her hair! With a groan, she closed her eyes and slumped against his chest, letting him catch her weight in amusement.

  "I probably look a fright, and smell like one too,” she said ruefully, tugging on stray hairs that escaped from her braids. Husky male laughter tickled her ear as he held her close, turning them both towards the airy room.

  "Then allow me to bathe you."

  The words rolled over the skin of her shoulders, making her shiver. There was no one to watch, not even a window to peek in, but she felt self-conscious as he urged her towards the table and tub.

  Rizal noted the slight stiffness to her body as she stopped between the water-filled tub and the washstand. Staying behind, he slowly lifted the hem of her shirt, urging her arms to lift over her head. He vowed to move as slowly as she needed to accustom herself to his presence and lose her prudish desire to constantly remain under cover. It was expected for her to hide her beauty from other men, but with him, she should be free to lay naked, covered only by his hands and mouth. It was his hope that by standing behind and not staring at her female flesh, she would calm and begin to accept his touch.

  "I-I can wash myself.” God, she hated how strained her voice sounded, even to her own ears.

  "Yes, I know you can, but I wish to do this for you, with you. Does it bother you?"

  Lost on how to put the nerves she was feeling into words, she shrugged and shuffled her feet. She let him pull the chemise of her outfit over her head and nervously noted how he took the time to gently fold it and lay it on the table before returning.

  He could feel the tension vibrating in her body. “I wish to see you, to know you as no other. You have given yourself to me, do you regret that?"

  "Never.” Her heart was true but her voice sounded so small, unsure.

  Rizal hesitated, perhaps he had rushed where he should have moved slowly, but she had lit such a fire in his blood that he couldn't stay away for long. As she traveled in that silly cart with Hooker, he had watched from the fields and trees, keeping her in sight, protected at all times. So he waited patiently as she drummed up the courage to loosen the ties at her waist.

  As the creamy silk skirt slid over her hips towards the floor, Margaret sensed his quick movement as he captured the material. Moving according to a dance as old as time, she stepped slowly away from the garment, reaching for the stays that held her shift in place. To drop the ties would leave her naked, bare to his sight and scrutiny. Before uncertainty could stiffen her fingers, she let go of the slippery straps and let it fall to her feet.

  "It is unnecessary to wear such a thick garment under your dresses, sinta.” He stood as close as he dared, taunted by the nearness of her luminescent skin. “But I appreciate that you keep this bounty for only my eyes to see."

  Twitching, Margaret made as if to turn to face him, but with the barest of touches, Rizal indicated she should move forward. She allowed his hands to guide her to kneel next to the muted glow of the washtub. Gently he guided her head over the surface of the water. Before the pewter pitcher shattered the still, reflective surface, she saw her radiant glow in the water contrasted by his shadowy form. Slowly she relaxed as the warm water rinsed through her hair. He murmured words of admiration for her beauty as his hands kneaded soap into the heavy weight of her hair. Kneeling easily behind her, she gradually noted that the bouts of self-consciousness from earlier had dissipated under the gentle warmth of his hands.

  As he rinsed her hair, she became aware of the way his thighs flanked hers, how his hips cradled hers. Yes, she could feel the weight of his erection, but he didn't rub it against her in unspoken demand, instead it was simply there, a silent testament to the truth of his words. Perhaps it was the sound of the water sluicing through her hair, but she decided she had never felt so safe in her life.

  There had been times at home where she'd heard steps outside of her room, creaking floorboards where she'd held her breath in fear of the unknown. Not even the presence of servants and the overwhelming aura of her father's demeanor made her feel so surrounded in a cocoon of safety as did Rizal. It gave her the courage to speak.

  "I know that when the sun settles, the stripes appear on your skin. I don't know why and I don't care. But I do thank you for trusting in me to share your natural state with me."

  His hands moved past her face, gathering up her hair as he wrung out the long tresses. “How could I do otherwise? You are my mate, I cannot hide anything from you, nor should I.” The quiet acceptance staggered her to the core.

  "On the boat, I watched. You didn't trust any of the others, choosing instead to tend the fire until the rest were asleep.” The silk of his shirt brushed her back as he laughed in pride.

  "So you noticed where others did not, very good mahalin.” She could feel his smile as his lips grazed her neck, making her shiver. “But were you watching out of curiosity or interest?"

  "Both,” she admitted bluntly, causing his laughter to ride on the night air again. “I couldn't help but watch you and wonder at why I found you so fascinating."

  "Have you discovered why you want to watch me, little English songbird?” His hands folded a towel around her hair, settling the mass on a shoulder to dry as he reached for a rag.

  "Simply because I wanted without knowing what it was that I wanted."

  Rizal paused in the act of dipping the rag into the water. For her age, she was much more innocent than he had expected. Slowly he worked soap into the material as he waited for her to continue.

  "My hands wanted to touch you when I've never wanted to touch another person. I wanted to sit near you and hear your voice in my ears. Mostly, I wanted to pull you close and bury my nose in your neck."

  Considering the slim column of her neck, he daubed at her supple skin with the rag and delighted in the feeling of her soft flesh under his stroking fingers. His Maggie was surprisingly soft for all of her thin limbs and stiff bearing. Fascinated, he watched as her body responded to his touch, trying to anticipate where he would move next, arching under his questing fingers, seeking to connect with him.

  "And what did you think that meant?” The husky note in his voice betrayed how much impact her words were having, but he didn't care.

  "At first,” she admitted, “I didn't know. I wondered if I found you so alluring because you were so different from what I've known of men. Then I questioned if I was interested only because you seemed to take note of me. In the end, I also considered that perhaps I had been too long without the company of any person, that I was simply ... needy."

  Rizal closed his eyes on the pain her words
brought him. His body didn't care about her heart's uncertainty, but his heart did. Time, he told himself, all she needs is time to see the truth of her own feelings.

  "But during the rainstorm you showed me otherwise.” He stilled, waiting on tenterhooks for her words. “All my life I've watched people flow past; sat on the outside and didn't really care."

  She shrugged and leaned back into his chest. Idly he wondered if she could feel the frantic pace his heart set as her words trickled out. “Oh, in some ways I cared, but it was more a feeling of want, like fancying a new hat. Here and gone in a moment's notice. But you touched me and I felt alive, really alive, and that want became need."

  Margaret rested her head below his shoulder and lifted her face to study the underside of his jaw. Gently she guided his chin hoping he would look at her. Even in the soft candlelight, she could see the pained hope he tried to hide. “Before I met you I was a ghost, I didn't exist for anyone, let alone myself. I need you more than the air I breathe, your passion and strength. More than need,” she smiled shyly at him, “love."

  A dam of feeling broke loose in his chest as he stared into those liquid pools of placid blue. He wanted to crush her to him, never let her go, but another need settled into his loins.

  "I think perhaps a little lesson in need and love wouldn't hurt.” She saw the moment when his eyes changed from pools of love to something darkly wicked and she quivered in anticipation. When clever fingers found her rump and pinched she jolted forward more in surprise than pain and he laughed, following her pinning her thighs against the metal wash tub.

  Almost indolently, his hands dipped into the water, cupping the liquid before drizzling it over her breasts. Margaret leaned her head back against his shoulder and gave in to the wet, delicious feelings he was stirring. The water was warm but her skin cooled in the air making gooseflesh rise. Another plunge of his hand and water trailed over her aching breasts, teasing her taut nipples to stand firm. Trickles of moisture trailed between her breasts, over her stomach and lower. Hissing, she shifted restlessly as the warm droplets penetrated the golden fur of her mound, sliding between her heated nether lips. When his other hand moved across her belly with the soapy rag, she moaned at the slick caress.

  Mercilessly the rag circled her breasts one then the other, making the globes ache for his firm touch. She found herself arching forward, thrusting her breasts at the circling cloth. Bubbles slid over her ribs, tickling at her navel before obscuring her mound. Bemused, she watched as his dark hand shook off excess water and slid to her cleft, teasing her with his long fingers, pretending to wash the hair gracing her sex with the same thoroughness he had used on her head. Her hands reached back and framed his hips hungrily, clutching the fabric of his pants and pulling him closer. Restlessly she rubbed her bottom against the thick evidence of his desire as his fingers slid over her mons, parting her lower lips with soap-slicked strokes.

  Muffling a groan, he pulled his hips back, trying to slow the tempo of their lovemaking. He had hoped to move slowly, to bring her to release at least once before entering her, but when she slid her firm, round ass up and down his cock, all he could think of was throwing her down and pinning her to the floor.

  Dipping a finger into her slit, he felt the muscles clench hungrily and he was lost. Leaning back, he pulled his shirt over his head. Impatiently he picked her wet, soapy body into his arms and carried her the few feet to his bed. With more speed than grace, he freed the stays on his pants and kicked free of them. Turning back to the bed he had to hold his breath on the sight that awaited him.

  She had shed the towel and her hair fanned out over the pillows. There she waited, not half-hidden under coverings but in the open, her hands skimming the sides of her breasts and down to the inside of her thighs as she arranged herself the way he had positioned her their first time. The softly blushing skin of her slit caught his eye; dewy with more than bath water, the petals of her sex were parted and lined with moisture.

  Settling between her legs, he lifted first one trim ankle to his mouth, kissing the delicate flesh behind the bone before placing the curve of her arch against his chest. Repeating the caress with the other leg, he watched as her eyes darkened, and her lips parted for her darting tongue to moisten her lips. Lifting her buttocks, he gently parted her folds and guided his thickness into her slit. When she stiffened, he stopped pushing only an inch inside her hot wet sheath. His fingers found her hidden pearl and teased it until he felt a different sort of tension build in her body. Slowly he slid in, inch by inch until he was seated deep inside, brushing her womb.

  "Does this hurt?” Her eyes were large in her face, giving him pause.

  "Just a little,” she replied, feeling tension ebb as feelings warred in her body. The delicious heat he had built with his fingers distracted her from the slow ache inside her sheath as he stretched and filled her. She was half afraid to move even as her body demanded she respond to the restless desire he had built in her blood.

  A rolling thrust of his hips and she was lost to the sensation inside. Gripping the covers in her hands, she arched and writhed as he thrust, building the heat burning through her body. It felt like being rubbed everywhere at once with a fur-lined glove. Closing her eyes against the rising tide of feeling swamping her body, Margaret moaned and begged as he slowed to a torturous slide in and out that made her burn from the bottoms of her feet to the top of her head. In a frenzy of want, she opened her eyes and bit her lower lip, silently urging him by lifting her hips against his. Instead, he smiled and moved his fingers to where he sank in and out of her body.

  Hypnotized by the sight of his thick length pumping in and out she shifted her gripping hands to the inside of her thighs so she could watch. Rizal saw her eyes fixate on the spot where they were joined and he slowed the pace again, this time gripping his cock in his hand, stroking it from under the head to the base before dipping it back into her creamy, plush slit. Nothing compared to the feel of her hot walls gripping him so he abandoned teasing her and slid home, resting his hand on her mound, his thumb finding the hooded treasure of her clit, working the raised flesh in time to his strokes.

  Margaret felt her body falling into a deep well of liquid heat as her inner muscles clenched hard, milking his thrusting organ as she shook from the orgasm rocking her body. Out of control, she rocked her hips harder and faster as light exploded behind her eyes. Crying out, she felt him shudder as his own release took him, forcing him in and out faster and harder, aftershocks rocketed down her legs as he gripped her hips, thrusting a final time. His glazed eyes watched her core convulse around his sex as he spilled deep within her.

  Roughly, he turned her so that her backside nestled against his front without losing his still stiff member inside her tightness. The unexpected feel of his cock rubbing inside her body made her shiver and lift a leg over his, as they lay spooned in his bed. She felt him starting to soften inside her sheath seconds before his fingers found her clit. It felt like an explosion of fire detonated in her belly as he pushed her over into a second orgasm. Shaking, she begged him to stop but he moved to pull her legs farther apart and continue the deep caresses.

  "For the moment” he kissed her cheek, “but I want you again this night,” he promised, nuzzling her ear.

  "Just need a moment to rest,” she promised, pillowing her head on his arm. The silence inside the house was so complete that she soon felt on the relaxed edge of sleep. Dreams pulled at her, luring her away from the warmth of his arms and the safety of bed when she jolted awake, feeling adrenaline flooding through her system.

  "What is the matter, mahalin?” Strong arms pulled her close as soft lips soothed her brow.

  "Every time I close my eyes I dream again and again of my mother. An old dream from my childhood that I fear is only too real."

  He rocked her in his arms, murmuring an old island lullaby. When she stiffened in his arms, he urged, “Tell me of it."

  Quietly she started in a jumble, talking about her mother al
ways singing, never speaking. She slowly told him about learning to swim being held in her mother's arms, never wondering why her younger sister wasn't instructed.

  "This morning when I woke on the ground, it struck me that my younger sister was never given swimming lessons. I learned at her age, it made no sense.” Unbidden, tears dampened her eyes. “But always the dream is the same, my mother comes to my bed, begs me to follow her from the house and through the woods to the inlet. On the far bank are burning torches marking where we need to swim to."

  Rolling in his arms, Margaret looked into Rizal's eyes as his hands lightly rubbed at her back. “In this dream she speaks, not sings, but actually talks to me.” There had been a singsong cadence to her words but Margaret wondered how much of that was real and how much what her mind expected.

  "What happens in the water, sinta?"

  Dazed, she recounted the cold swim, the way her mind made up verses that kept time with her swimming, the weight of her nightdress pulling her under before finally reaching the far bank behind her mother.

  "She is standing on the bank, looking towards the torches and a sound like thunder fills the night. Mama falls back, hits me and we are knocked into the water. Her hair, arms, dress, I'm all tangled beneath her, but past her shoulder I can see the twin points of light from the torches. I'm out of breath, exhausted but the light calls me.” Her voice trickled to a halt.

  "For years, Rizal, I dreamed of a guardian angel who kept me safe by plucking me from the water in my dream. He had no face that I could see but his hands,” she lifted one of her own and stared at it. “They seemed to glow in the dark as bright as the moon, reaching for me, pulling me from the water. Then I wake in my bed."