by Shay Savage
He ran his tongue first over one nipple, then the other, while his thumb and fingers continued touching between my legs and making my hips rise up of their own accord. Branford’s fingers dipped farther inside of me, and I felt them curl up as I stiffened and cried out in short, panting breaths. His fingers retreated quickly, leaving me suddenly empty and somewhat confused.
At the same time, he released my breast from his lips and made a light trail down the center of my body, stopping at my navel. My fingers moved from his shoulder to his hair, and I let the wonderfully soft strands glide between my fingers. Branford’s gaze tilted upwards, looking at me, smiling his half smile, and making my stomach clench inside. While his eyes were still locked with mine, he reached out with his tongue and ran the edge of it around my navel, and I shivered. Branford grinned, kissed the skin just below the little indentation, then started moving farther down. Much farther down.
“What are you doing?” I breathed, my eyes wide.
“Kissing you,” he responded with an arch of his brow. He tilted his head and kissed first one hipbone, then the other. He slid his hand down my side, over my hip, down my leg, and then curled around my knee. He lifted my leg, laying it over his shoulder while he continued to watch my face. As his intent became clearer to me, my breath caught in my throat, and I whimpered.
“Branford…”
“Shh…”
I felt his lips brush softly over the skin of my inner thigh, and he slowly continued a line of kisses up the inside of my leg while I lay back, horrified at what he was doing. I remembered the feeling of his fingers between my legs, stroking and fondling me until I was screaming out for him in the middle of the forest, and I remembered the feeling of his tongue across my bare nipples.
My breath escaped me in gasps as his tongue reached out and took a long lick from my opening to the tiny, intense spot at the top of my folds. His darkened eyes stayed trained to mine as he swirled the tip of his tongue in a small circle around the little nub. I whimpered, panted, and grasped at the blanket below me as his lips joined his tongue, wrapping around my flesh—licking and sucking as he had done to my breasts only moments before. An instant later, his fingers joined his mouth, and I felt him slide them slowly back into me—moving in and out leisurely as his tongue circled and pressed against me.
It was no more than a second later when I was screaming out for him.
“Branford! Branford!”
My body shuddered and clamped down on his fingers. I heard his own gasp as I wrapped my fingers into his hair and held his mouth against me as his tongue continued its fervent motions. My head thrashed from side to side as he kept up his steady rhythm until I forced my entire body still—suddenly horrified at what I had just done. I glanced down as I released Branford’s hair quickly, only to find his dark eyes and half smile shining up at me with his eyebrows raised. I felt my blush cover my skin, which only seemed to make him smile more. He placed a final kiss between my legs before he raised himself up and began to crawl over the top of me.
I felt his kisses make a line from my hipbone to my stomach, then up between my breasts, to the side up my neck, up over my chin, and finally to my mouth. While he kissed me slowly, my own taste still clinging to his lips, I felt warm, wet pressure between my legs as Branford brought our hips together, and his hard length pressed against that most sensitive spot. Light, tickling sensations traveled down my side as his fingers brushed along my skin. When he reached my knee, he pulled my leg up and held it against his hip, opening my legs more for him.
This was it. He was going to take me now. Without warning, Shelly’s bruised and battered face, the blood, and the sound of her crying entered my head.
“Shh, my wife,” he whispered against my ear. “I will make you feel it again—I will make you feel that pleasure again, Alexandra. Do you want that?”
“You already did,” I told him, my voice shaking. I was trying to keep the worry out of my tone but was quite sure I was failing. He rested his hand against the side of my face and his lips brushed softly against mine.
“I’m not done making you feel good,” he said with confidence. He stared into my eyes again. “I want you to feel like that every time I join with you, starting with tonight.”
I nodded quickly, trying to tell myself to stop this nonsense—I was being ridiculous. He had made me feel wonderful, and he had not hurt me at all. It had been as he said it would be—gentle and slow—but I could not stop my mind from recalling the hurt Shelly had described to me and Branford’s own admission that there would be some pain.
“Look at me,” Branford said. His voice was so quiet, I could barely hear him over my own panicked breathing. The backs of his fingers ran down my cheek as I tried to comply and look up at him. He kept his gaze on me, whispering soft words until my breathing slowed to match the unhurried pace of the kisses he left on my skin. “Wrap your arms around my shoulders. Hold on as tight as you wish.”
I placed my hands on his shoulders, gripping the hard muscles under his skin. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my body and remember how many times he had told me he would be gentle—that he wouldn’t hurt me unnecessarily. Branford stilled a moment, and when I looked up, his eyes were closed and his expression intense behind the closed lids. He opened his eyes as his lips parted, and I thought I heard him whisper “Amen” before he kissed me once more.
With his body poised above me and one hand still cupping my cheek, Branford leaned forward. He used his hand to guide himself directly to his goal and pushed slowly. I could feel myself spreading open—allowing his body to enter mine—as the end of him was engulfed by my body. The pressure was strange—more so than the feeling of his fingers inside of me—but it didn’t hurt. He pulled back, and I felt him leave me for the briefest of moments before he was inside of me again, this time pushing just a little more, and another inch of him was encompassed by my flesh.
His eyes closed a moment and his lips touched mine. Again, he pulled back, but not as far as he had the last time, and leaned forward once more. I could feel my body stretching to accommodate him. When I looked up, I saw his sparkling green eyes fixed on my face, watching me intently as he repeated the movement over and over—each time entering me just a fraction more—until he stopped abruptly, and I felt a strange increase in pressure deep inside of me. He was only halfway in, and the feeling had turned briefly into a strange pinching sensation, and I gasped.
“Just for a moment, Alexandra—I swear to you.” Branford’s look was intense, and I could only nod in response. I tried to make my body relax again, but it was difficult. Branford rocked back and forth slowly, his breathing no longer as fixed and steady as it had been. “Hold on to me.”
I complied, wrapping my arms under his and tightening my grip around his shoulders. He leaned in close, his lips against my neck and shoulder as he continued his short, gentle moves inside of me. He dropped his hand from my face, over my shoulder, and back to my breast. He captured it in his hand and ran his thumb over the nipple, and I heard a moan escape my mouth as the combined sensations of his hand and his penetration overwhelmed me. My fingers tightened on his shoulders for a moment as he pinched the sensitive flesh of my nipple, and I gasped. It didn’t hurt exactly—but it was unexpected. He released it almost immediately, and as I felt warmth cover where his fingers had been, my grip on him relaxed, and I let out a short breath.
Branford moved—faster than before. He thrust upwards and hard against me, and his hips became flush with mine. I felt my body give way to him completely as a strange twinge of unfamiliar pain rippled inside of me before quickly fading away.
I cried out—more in surprise than pain—and Branford’s hands were on my face, his mouth kissing me and whispering to me.
“It is all right, my wife…”
“Are you…are you…?”
“I am all the way inside of you.” Branford smiled and nodded.
I couldn’t identify the emotions that swept thr
ough me. It was as if something that had been tightly bound inside of me was suddenly released, finally allowing me to truly breathe deeply for the first time since I took his hand and agreed to become his wife. We were joined—really, truly joined as man and wife.
“Am I yours?” I could barely whisper the words.
“You are mine,” he said, his confirmation reassuring me. “Always.”
I looked up at him and felt myself smile. He kissed the corners of my mouth, one at a time, and then raised himself up to look down on me.
“Are you well?” he asked. “Does it still hurt?”
Shaking my head, I looked to his eyes, and then glanced down between us. I couldn’t really see where we were connected—the candlelight was too dim. I felt oddly full, stretched and hot, but it no longer hurt. My husband was on top of me, inside of me, and the heat from his body felt wonderful against my skin. His hips rose up, and the glorious pressure was abruptly gone. I looked to Branford’s eyes, worried something was wrong, for I was sure he had not felt his pleasure yet. Much to my relief, he paused with half his length still inside of me. With his hands on either side of my head, he braced himself and slowly pushed back into me, filling me completely as I gasped and moaned beneath him.
Holding himself against me, Branford shifted his weight to one arm, leaving his other hand free to roam over the skin of my shoulder, arm, and breasts. He cupped and lifted my nipple up to his mouth and sucked at it greedily. His moans caused my skin to vibrate, and he started moving inside of me slowly as his tongue ran over my pebbled nipple.
I moved my hands from his shoulders to his hair. I held him to my breast and whispered his name between breaths as he sucked and licked and touched me. When he released my breast, his darkened gaze bore into me for a second before his lips crashed to mine. His hand slid across my stomach and gripped my hip, pulling me against him as he continued his short, gentle thrusts inside of me. He moved his mouth to my neck, sucking on my skin from the bottom of my ear down to where my neck met my shoulder. He pushed hard against me with his hips, rotating them in a small half circle and hitting that magical spot near where his body entered mine. Instinctively, my hips rose up to meet his, and as they did, Branford’s hand moved from my hip to the place right above where we joined. He began a slow, relentless circling with his thumb, and my back arched against the pressure.
“Do you like that?” He panted into my ear as his thumb circled again.
“Yes,” I moaned back, barely able to find enough air to speak.
“It feels so good inside of you,” he whispered. He moved slowly, steadily—setting up a deep, wondrous rhythm that matched the movement of his thumb. “Three days have never taken so long, but you are so warm…so worth waiting for this night…”
I dug my fingertips into the skin over his shoulder blades as he pulled back and entered me again. I pressed my forehead against his shoulder and muffled my cries against his flesh. He found the edge of my jaw with his mouth and kissed his way up to my temple. I felt his warm breath in my hair.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he murmured into my ear. I complied, locking my ankles together at the base of his back. As soon as I did, the pressure changed and intensified as Branford moved deeper inside of me, groaning his pleasure. “Oh, yes…”
“Branford!” I cried out, and his mouth covered mine as he moved his thumb faster against me. The muscles in my legs constricted, and delicious warmth traveled from my stomach down, out, and through my legs. I cried out again, the sound muffled against my husband’s lips as my body tensed, screamed in ecstasy, and released.
“Oh, Alexandra.” Branford pulled back from my mouth and turned his head to the side. His body tensed as well, but only for a moment before he let out a long breath and opened his eyes again. “Hold on to me.”
I tightened my grip using both my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders. He pulled back and then thrust into me, causing my body to push against the mattress as it shifted underneath him. I felt him slide almost out of me again before he thrust forward with more intensity, and I cried out.
“Does it hurt?” he asked into my ear. He reached into the hair at the back of my neck and he turned me toward him. I shook my head quickly—not wanting him to pause even for a moment. He moved again—long, drawn-out strokes as he pulled out of me, then quick thrusts as he sheathed himself in me completely. Gradually, the pace increased along with the beating of his heart, which I could feel against my breasts when he pressed his chest against them. My fingers became slick with the sweat on his back as he moved more and more rapidly and with more and more intensity. Branford’s breath was hot and covered the skin of my neck in short, quick bursts. Under his breath, I could hear his grunts and moans in between actual words.
“So good…ugh…ugh…he was right…oh, he was right! Ugh…ugh…so, so much better…my wife…my wife…so good…”
He twisted his fingers tighter into my hair, pulling a little. Though it didn’t exactly hurt, it was surprising as he pulled my head backwards, arching my neck and grinding my head into the mattress. With his other hand, he gripped my hip, holding me tight against him as he thrust inside of me over and over again. He moaned—loud and long—and his own neck arched and his closed eyes pointed toward the ceiling. He stilled, deep inside of me, and I felt warmth spread throughout my womb.
Branford collapsed on top of me, his forehead tucked against the space between my neck and my shoulder, and panted into my skin. He brushed my neck with his lips, kissing me between his labored breaths. My whole body was shaking, and I couldn’t make it stop. I held on tightly to my husband—my real, true, consummated husband—as my breath escaped in gasps and tears poured from the corners of my eyes, dripped down across my face, and into the pillow below my head.
Branford raised his head and clasped the sides of my head with his hands. With his thumbs, he brushed the moisture from my eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a breathless whisper.
“Yes,” I half-sobbed as I tightened my grip on him and pulled my head to his shoulder, hiding my eyes against his neck. Branford shifted, pulling out of me and leaving me with a sudden feeling of cold emptiness. He grasped the sides of my head tighter, pulling me away from his shoulder and back against the bed. Branford hovered over me, his eyes full of concern and confusion.
“I hurt you,” he said, his tone matter of fact. “God, Alexandra, I am sorry—I was trying to go slow…”
“It did not hurt,” I whimpered. “It is just…”
“Just what?”
“We are really married now,” I whispered as I looked up into his eyes. I reached out and brushed the edge of my husband’s jaw with my fingertips. “I am really your wife.”
“This makes you sad?” His voice rose in pitch, sounding desperate.
“No.” I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to control myself again. Resting my head against the pillow, I continued to look up at him, my finger slowly tracing the shadowy patterns the candlelight made on his chin.
“Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. I closed my eyes and sighed. When I glanced back up at him, his brows were knitted together as he looked down at me. “It didn’t hurt, not very much, anyway. Just for a moment when you…when you went all the way in.”
“It could not be helped,” he said with his voice quiet and full of remorse. The pads of his fingers wiped more tears away from my eyes, and he leaned over to kiss my closed lids.
“It is all right,” I whispered as I kept touching the side of his face, feeling the rough stubble of his cheek.
“Then why are you sad?” he asked, his voice nearly begging for an answer.
“I am not sad,” I told him. “I am just…relieved.”
“Relieved?”
“That you…um…you seemed to like it.”
“Like it?” Branford huffed and then let out a single, sharp laugh. “Alexandra, that was simply incredible.” He
brushed strands of hair from my forehead. “Did you think I would not?”
“I didn’t know,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders. “I had never…been with a man in such a way.”
He played with the strand of my hair caught between his fingers, and his lips mashed together as he scowled at the lock, making me wonder if he was somehow angry with the stray piece of hair. He released it, and sighed heavily.
“I am pleased that I will be the only man to ever touch you in this way,” he said suddenly. “If someone had taken you before me, I would have overlooked it, but I am very glad that is not the case. I think I would be inclined to seek out anyone who may have touched you, and at least make sure I was the only living man to have had you.”
I turned and looked into his eyes, trying to determine if he meant the words as a joke. I knew immediately that he did not, and I shuddered. Branford tilted my chin upward, and he looked down at me.
“I know your virginity belongs to me,” Branford said, his words becoming somewhat desperate, “but tell me—did any man ever lay a hand on you at all? Touched you? Kissed you? Anything?”
I shook my head.
“Only you.”
“Good,” he murmured. “For the sake of us all, be sure it stays that way.”
I was confused for but a moment until I understood exactly what he was implying. Horrified, I gripped his shoulders again, my eyes wide.
“I would not…I would never even consider such a thing,” I cried out, praying to whatever God he worshipped that he would believe me. “You are my husband. I belong to you alone.”
