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Shy at first, she had been stunned at his low, throaty moans as he ran his hands over her body, quivered in delight at his rampant approval.
And Zakari clearly approved.
Too often Zakari had found that a woman looked better dressed, whether it be in a designer gown, a well-fitted bra or a pretty flash of silk that covered her most secret place, or just heavy jewels around her throat carefully engineered to direct the eye.
Oh, women used them because they worked and gave teasing, revealing glimpses that let the imagination run riot.
And yet…
Too many times Zakari had felt hard borders of silicone on upright breasts, seen tiny creases of a cosmetic surgeon’s scars and a manufactured belly button, or a crêpe neck beneath a choker, and these things did nothing to arouse him. Yet as Effie lay writhing in his arms, their absence aroused him now.
Here before him, Effie was what no woman before had managed. Better, far better naked, he realised as he took off her bra and slid her panties down over the generous curve of her hips.
Only now, under his sensual command, did her beauty truly reveal itself.
Against the dark silk sheets as he laid her onto the bed she was a delicious pillow of white skin, broken only by a delicate flush of pink on her cheeks that swept to her chest as his eyes bathed her with admiration. His mouth and tongue worked their languorous but definite way down her neck till they kissed her full breasts, flicking the nipples, then in turn taking them deep into his mouth and sucking slowly as Effie squirmed in pleasure. His fingers were pressing on her lips now and she sucked them into her mouth greedily, only stilling as his fingers left her mouth and his hand crept to her private place, moving again as tenderly he stroked her. She made a little gasp in her throat as his fingers worked their magic, and she wanted it to go on, didn’t want him to stop, appalled when he knelt before her, when the rules of this very new game shifted, and he lowered his head between her legs.
Lowered his noble head and tasted her pretty pink flesh again.
Prepared her with his tongue.
And for Effie, as the first flash of embarrassment faded, as she closed her eyes and just lost herself to his silken touch, it was heaven.
His silky hair against her thigh, his beard teasing and scratching her swollen mound, the thick, wet, pressing weight of his tongue as he stroked her combined with his rhythmic massage of her breasts, was like being dragged down in a whirlpool of sensations. For a full moment she forgot to breathe as he took her ever deeper into this entrancing place.
And the noise.
How lacking her fantasies had been, how empty they were, without celebrating the pleasurable, sensual noise that a man and woman created when skin and membranes danced.
This delicious noise that only they two made—this lavish, greedy feast of indulgence and shameless want that could not be contained as he took her to new pleasures.
And, for Zakari, never had there been more pleasure in giving and in feeling her unfurl beneath him. The sweet taste of her, the breathless, throaty, lavish attention, for a moment threatened to overwhelm him, his erection so fierce, his climax so close, he wanted to take her right then. He closed his eyes, waiting for it to abate, but it was hopeless, her image branded on his mind as she moved beneath him and he knew he had to have her now.
Resting back on his heels, he stared down at her moist and so ready.
Always he sheathed himself—aware how women coveted his valuable seed. It was unthinkable to consider otherwise, but seeing her glistening and pink, her virgin flesh, moist and waiting, he was kneed in the groin with a want, a desire, to feel her precious untouched skin around his.
‘When—’ Zakari himself was having trouble speaking, his breath catching, making his voice low and harsh ‘—is your time?’
When she didn’t immediately answer, he asked her again. ‘You cannot get pregnant! I need to know, when was your time?’
She never discussed such things with anyone, let alone a man, and Effie screwed her eyes closed as she answered such a personal question.
‘It just finished.’ The tip of his impressive erection hovered and teased the jewel of her clitoris.
‘Just?’ Zakari checked.
‘Yesterday.’
The devil on his shoulder had never been louder or more willingly heeded. If she had just finished they surely had a few days, surely not…his mind told him, but surely yes, the devil argued. He was at her entrance now, he could feel her slippery and warm beneath him, wanted to feel her for just a little while longer, and he’d be careful, Zakari assured the fading sensible voice.
‘Will it hurt?’
‘No.’ His voice was suddenly tender; he would not hurt her. His fierce erection was nudging her entrance, and yet he held back, just the tip of him entering her innocent resistance, moistening her barrier with a rush that was unexpected.
Steady—Zakari said it to himself as tenderly he probed, one step forward, then he took two back, till she begged that he deepened, his erection salivating at the feast ahead.
The path of resistance was made no easier by her throaty gasps, and then she let out just a tiny sob as he parted her innocence. He waited, waited for her to adjust to the sensation of him inside her, tender words spilling unchecked and unheeded from his mouth, till Effie relaxed again, till he was led in deeper by the delicious, spongy pull of her intimate vice…
Enough reward, Zakari told himself, yet it felt divine without the usual constraints, with her so oiled and willing; he wanted to remain, wanted to explore for just a moment longer this sweet uncharted territory. She was moving with him and he was so close to coming, he knew he must cease, yet he wanted to stay and play a little while more yet. Looking down, he could see his length moving in and out of her, could see her rising to meet each thrust, and it was so erotic, if he were to linger and gaze on for even a moment longer it would be over, so instead he lay over her, sliding deep inside her.
He could sustain, Zakari told himself. That when he was as close as this, dammit, he could hold back.
He really should sheath himself. As he moved deep within her, as he kissed her face, her neck and as her fingers dug into his buttocks, her legs locked over his, the soles of her feet digging into his calves, then up to his thighs, Zakari knew he should stop a moment and protect himself, yet he didn’t want to. A million slivers of silver had surely already moistened his path, an unreasonable voice pointed out, surely it was already too late for concern, surely, just this once, he could allow himself the full extent of this rare pleasure.
This shy, sweet woman he had first led to his bed was unleashed beneath him now, sobbing out as she came, her fingers digging into him as he took her to that wondrous place. He could feel her body frantic now, the pulse of her orgasm everywhere around him, in her thighs that gripped him, in her arms that held him, and in the arched neck that he kissed. It was an orgasm so intense that it consumed him just as it consumed her. Zakari shuddered in blessed relief as he shot deep within her, and if it was forbidden, with every last pulse, it was utterly without regret, just the headiest of release, the bliss not just of his orgasm or hers, but theirs.
What they had somehow achieved.
He lay on top of her for the longest time afterward, still deep inside her. Zakari relished every fading flicker of her orgasm, feeling their cool sweat mingling, their hearts beating a frantic race then steadying, but he was dizzy.
Dizzy as still his head lay in her neck, her damp curls on his face, and he inhaled the intoxicating scent of lovers entwined, proud and safe in the knowledge that her first time had been wonderful. He felt this strange…peace, almost, descending as his mind wandered to the strangest of places—pausing for a curious moment—where it almost felt as if it had been his first time too.
He never talked after sex.
Just slept, or watched, usually bored, as his bed partner dressed and left.
Only today was different. The bed was warm, her body so soft, as the winds screamed their fury at what had just taken place.
‘The banshees are cross!’ Effie giggled. ‘They warned me not to do it, you know?’
He laughed; for the first time in the longest time, he actually laughed.
‘Are you glad that you did?’ Zakari faced her and she turned side-on and they faced each other.
‘Utterly!’ Effie breathed, because she was. Without a trace of regret she smiled over to him. One perfect day was more than enough for Effie, and it had been perfect—her body felt different, warm and alive and, thanks to his lavish compliments during their lovemaking, for the first time in her life she felt beautiful. ‘This has been the best day of my life. I’ll never be scared of the wind again; for the rest of my life, every time I hear it I’ll remember feeling like this.’
Her eyes dragged down his body, could see the scratches of her nails and the bruises her lips had left. She couldn’t believe the passion he had evoked in her, the woman he had made her. And there, resting, sleeping on his thigh, was the most beautiful sight of all, and she wanted to disturb it, wanted to stroke it.
‘It’s so beautiful.’ Effie sighed.
And he watched, willed her with his mind to be gentle with her fingers, his breath catching as she was. Her supremely tender fingers were soothing almost as they greeted his tumescent length, the tip of her finger slowly, deliciously, tracing a thick vein. ‘You did all those glorious things for me, and yet I did nothing for you.’
