“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?”