He eased out of her, feeling her flinch as he did so, and stretched out beside her. "You want to know what we're going to do now?"
She gave him a wary look.
He grinned and came to his feet. "You stay there, Diana. I shall be back in a moment."
"Where are you going?"
"Just stay still."
She didn't want to stay still. She felt sticky, tender, and sore. Worse, she felt herself throbbing with feelings that didn't want to go away.
"Don't move, Diana," she heard him call from a few feet away.
18
Success is dependent on effort.
—SOPHOCLES
After a few minutes, she came up on her elbows. "Lyon?"
"Here I am. Don't move."
He came down on his knees beside her. He was holding half a coconut shell filled with fresh water and his breechcloth. He dampened it, smiled at her, reaching out his hand.
"Oh, dear, you can't mean toLyon. I can surely do that myself."
"Hush," he said. He gently pulled her legs apart. He bent her knees and she felt dreadfully exposed. She gulped, trying to bring her thighs together.
He looked up at her face. "Diana, think of me as your husband now. All right? It is your duty to obey me. Now hold still."
She felt the wet cloth touching her. She closed her eyes tightly, with the absurd thought that if she couldn't see what he was doing, neither could he.
The cool wet cloth felt marvelously nice, she had to admit, as well as the slight pressure of his hand against her. She felt the building of that warm, aching sensation and unconsciously moved against his hand.
Lyon felt her reaction and looked at her face. Her head was turned slightly, her eyes closed tightly. He smiled to himself. "Diana, I'm going to tell you something and I don't want you to be worried about it."
She kept her eyes firmly closed. "What?"
"When I came into you, broke through your maidenhead, you bled. It isn't much, and it won't happen again, but that's why I wanted to bathe you. I didn't want you to be worried or frightened. There, all done."
She tried to close her legs, but he was firmly planted between them. "Lyon," she said, her voice thin with embarrassment.
"I wish it were daylight."
"Lyon!"
"Just a moment ago you wanted me to touch you. You were pressing up against me. Now I will see to your pleasure, Diana."
She felt his fingers gently parting her, felt him ease down between her legs. When she felt his breath against her, she froze, her eyes wide on his bent head.
"What are you doing?"
He kissed the damp curls. "I'm learning you," he said, and lowered his head again. He really didn't believe he could bring her to a woman's pleasure, not this time, but at least he could begin to accustom her to him, accustom her to her own body and its exquisite responses.
Diana couldn't believe what he was doing. It was too much. Surely he couldn'tShe suddenly saw him doing this to other women, to those little amours of his, and she felt such a violent wave of jealousy and rage that she jerked away from him, scrambling back out of reach.
Lyon was stunned for a moment, his voice bewildered. "Did I hurt you?"