I whimpered, unable to offer him a lucid reply. He did not seem to mind, for his mouth was turned up in a smile when I opened my eyes to look at him. He moved his hand to my other breast, giving it the same attention until both nipples pointed toward the cloudless sky. As my breaths began to come faster, my chest rose and appeared to offer my breasts to him. Branford seemed to agree and leaned over me to take one of them in his mouth, sucking gently as his palm slowly lifted and massaged the other.
“You feel so good in my hands,” Branford said, running his lips over my nipple as he spoke. His open palms ran down my sides, and in his fingers, he gathered the skirts at my waist. “I want more of you, my wife.”
When he looked up at me, I tried to take a deep breath. It was difficult; the intensity of his look and the movements of his hands all seemed to gather at that single point between my legs—the place where he was threatening to explore. He left a trail of kisses from the spot between my breasts down a line to my stomach. Branford rose up on his knees, gripped the edge of my skirts and looked at me, his eyes a silent question. I could only respond by nodding my head, and he slowly pulled the dress down my legs and off completely.
I shivered though the sun was warm on my skin. I shivered because my husband was staring down at my naked body for the first time, his eyes dark and smoldering. I shivered because he was licking his lips, and I was fairly certain he was also holding his breath. Was I acceptable? It had been my fear since the wedding night that he may, in the end, find me lacking. His words to Sir Parnell in the carriage came back to me. He could dismiss me if I wasn’t good enough, and here I was, exposed completely to his eyes in the bright sunlight of midday. I looked away from him.
“Stop,” Branford said quietly. I turned back to him, and I could feel the indentation of my teeth in my bottom lip as I bit down.
“Stop?”
“Stop thinking whatever it is you are thinking,” Branford said. “You are incredible to behold. You are not inadequate or whatever word it was you used before.”
It was the word I had used. I couldn’t help but think of the princesses he had known and the other noblewomen who would have been, undoubtedly, better suited for his wife. They already knew all these things that I did not, and many of them had not been afraid of his touch in the past. I felt his hand on my cheek, and he turned my head to face him before he took my bottom lip away from my teeth and sucked it gently into his mouth.
“You are beautiful,” he said. He moved his hands from my head down my shoulders, over my arms, and down to my bare waist. For a moment, he closed his eyes and seemed to be battling something inside of himself. Using his thumbs, he danced over my skin, making small circles across my flesh. When his eyes opened again, he took a long, deep breath before speaking. “So soft…so innocent…”
He moved one of his hands from my waist to my stomach, stopped there for a brief second, and then slowly dropped lower. I gasped as his hand reached the small mound of hair that covered my skin there, and his fingers threaded through it. They explored, they searched, and they discovered while I panted and gripped his shoulders, my eyes staring wide at the sky above.
“Do you feel it here?” he asked quietly. He moved lower, slowly moving between my legs and coming back covered in moisture. I gasped. “Do you feel how warm you are against my hand? How wet you are for me?”
A small noise escaped my lips as his fingers reached for my most intimate spot. He circled with his moistened finger, dipped low, and then came back up to circle again.
“You are so wet for me, Alexandra. Do you feel it? Do you understand? This is how I know your body wants me. This is how I know you want to feel me inside of you even if you don’t know it yet.”
The tip of his finger circled at the apex of my folds, just below the mound of hair, spreading the moisture around me and then going back for more. I heard a low moan, a
nd I couldn’t tell for sure if it had come from his mouth or my own.
Branford pressed his lips back to my throat, sucking on my skin and licking at my neck. I was sure he could feel my heart beating rapidly under his touch. With one hand, he cupped my breast while the other continued to slide up and down between my legs. My thighs clenched, and I felt the cloth of Branford’s trousers as he placed one of his legs between mine. He curled his knee to wrap his ankle around my calf and dragged my legs apart in one fluid movement. I gasped again as his fingers delved lower, sinking between the folds of flesh now spread out before him, fully uncovered to his touch.
I closed my eyes tightly and reached for him. I grabbed at his back and shoulders as I fought with myself to stay grounded. My heart was beating too fast—my lungs working too hard to bring air into my body. Branford’s upwardly curled lips danced over the skin of my neck, shoulders, and chest as I held on to him. I felt as though my whole body was shaking. The sheer magnitude of feelings brought out of me at the touch of his mouth, tongue, and hands was just too much for me to bear. My reaction was like it had been last night, when his hands had touched me there through the cloth of my nightdress, only multiplied.
The tip of his finger was suddenly there—right at the very entrance to my body—nestled between my legs in warm, wet heat. I cried out, and Branford’s mouth was against my ear, whispering that he would not ever, ever hurt me. As his words warmed my ear with his heated breath, his finger did as his words promised, and slowly pushed inside of me as his thumb began its relentless circling at the top of my folds.
There were so many sensations—his mouth against my neck, his hand cupping my breast, his thumb and its slow, deliberate movements. His finger had slipped inside of me without any resistance at all. The motions he made were obvious to my sensitive skin, but where I expected to feel the pain of his entry—even when it was only his finger—there was none. He just slowly slid it in and out of me while I moaned and panted into his hair.
“Does that feel good to you, my wife?” he murmured against my throat. “Do you like my hands on you now? Do you want to feel more of what I can give you?”
I moaned again, possibly telling him yes though I couldn’t have been sure. He pulled his finger from my body and then slowly eased back in with two fingers instead of one. I gasped at the new pressure, and he pulled back, kissing my mouth and taking my breath from me before pushing them back inside again.
“Soon,” Branford whispered, “soon there will be more of me—pushing inside of you like this. I’ll take you so gently, my wife…I swear it…”
I whimpered as my hands shook, and my legs tensed. I tried to bring my legs back together, but Branford kept his leg firmly wrapped around mine, keeping me spread out for him. I could feel his fingers curl up inside of my body, placing pressure up toward the area where his thumb pushed down from the outside. My legs became rigid, then shuddered. My fingers dropped to my sides and gripped the blanket under me as I called out for my husband. Instantly, he was kissing the side of my neck and up to my jaw, whispering words I could not understand as my body sang loudly to the rhythm of his touch.
“Branford!” I cried out before my body went slack against the blanket. I gasped for air, and though my eyes were open, I saw nothing. I could still feel though, and I felt Branford’s hand as his fingers slowly pulled away from me, leaving me feeling empty without his touch. He rolled to his side and pulled me with him, his arms circling me as he pulled me against his chest.
Slowly, I emerged from my stupor. My breathing and heartbeat calmed down a little, and I found the clearheadedness to turn and look at my husband. His face was slightly flushed, and he still breathed roughly. Remembering the night before when he had not felt as I had felt, I was again hit with the unfairness of the discrepancy.
“You are, um…you didn’t take off your…” I couldn’t even finish. I would have thought now that I was lying beside him without a stitch covering my body, I would have been able to find the words I wanted to say, but they would not come. I felt my embarrassment in my cheeks. I wanted to tell him he could take me now if that was his desire. I wouldn’t have stopped him again, for I understood now what it was he wished to feel, and I did not seek to deny him that pleasure.
“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself if I did,” Branford said. “You are far too tempting, and I want to make sure I at least do this right.”
He pressed his lips against the tip of my nose.
“Would you like me to?” he said, giving me his half grin as he raised an eyebrow as well. I turned away from him as I felt my cheeks flush at his forwardness. Branford laughed through his nose, trying to hold it back. “I will, you know. I’m only too happy to have you look at me.”
He took my wrist like he had the other night, and I didn’t resist as he moved it across his chest and down to his stomach. He released my hand, and I left it where it was as Branford lifted his hips slightly and pulled his trousers away.