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“All right.” She felt his hands holding her thighs apart, felt him pushing slowly into her. The pain grew. She didn’t like it. This act gave a woman a child, she accepted that, but it was also supposed to give her pleasure? Suddenly, he thrust again and again, and she felt tearing pain, felt as if a part of her had ripped apart deep inside her. She screamed, her fists against his chest shoving at him, striking him, anything to get him off her. Then he heaved over her, groaning and trembling, sweat making his golden body glisten. She didn’t know what was happening to him but whatever it was, he appeared to want it, thus she did too. Ah, but it hurt. He was his full length inside her body. That was strange that he was deep inside her, that he was part of her. He was hot and tense, ramming into her, sealing himself against her, groaning deep in his chest, then pulling out just to shove forward again. She didn’t move. She hurt badly, but she didn’t move.
She loved him. If this was what he wanted, then he would have it. She stuffed her fist into her mouth. It was over soon enough. He arched over her, his throat working madly, and he cried out again and again, and she felt the wetness from him fill her. She lay very still. The pain lessened and so did he.
He was lying over her now, balanced on his elbows, breathing hard and fast. He was sweating. He smelled wonderful. She leaned up and kissed his shoulder—sweat and his unique scent. She kissed his shoulder again.
He drew a deep heaving breath. “By all the gods, that was not well done of me. I hurt you, didn’t I, Chessa? I hurt you and I’m sorry for it but I couldn’t have done it differently. Do you understand? Do you forgive me? I was as clumsy as a raw boy and I am sorry for it. I didn’t want to take you this way, at least not the first time. Did you hate it? Do you hate me now for hurting you?”
She was adrift in the feeling of him still inside her and he was over her, kissing her and talking and she said, “You want to know many things, Cleve. Not now, all right?”
He lowered himself so he was flat and heavy on her and she didn’t want him to move at all. He was pressed against her belly, his sex still inside her. “Do you know how you feel to me? No, of course you don’t. You’re a woman and you were a virgin and I hurt you.” He withdrew from her and rolled off her.
“Could you come back, please, Cleve?”
He came up on his elbow and looked down at her. “I’m here. I feel like a sorry husband. Forgive me, Chessa.”
“Is it always like that?”
“Like what?”
She raised her hair and lightly stroked her fingers over his jaw, his lips, his nose. “Will you always touch me like you just did? Like every part of me is yours to handle freely? You’ll use me and do exactly as you please to me and hurt me?”
He bit the end of her finger. “Aye. But it works both ways, Chessa. You can do exactly what you wish to me. No, I won’t ever hurt you again.”
She doubted that, but kept silent. Then she wailed, “But I don’t know anything.” She grabbed his ears in both her hands and pulled him down to kiss him. He was laughing, then quickly moaning. She put her tongue in his mouth, not realizing really what she was doing, how it would make him feel, not at all how it would make her feel.
“Oh,” she said into his mouth, felt his tongue touch hers, and felt a jolt of pleasure so intense she whimpered. “That’s very nice.”
“Good,” he said and kissed her until she was struggling to get closer to him, her hands on his back, his chest, all over him, save his belly and groin. He said as he licked her ear, “Touch me, Chessa. Touch me.”
She knew where he wanted her hand, aye, she knew, but still she wasn’t certain. When she touched him, felt the heat of him, the wetness of him and knew it was from both of them, this wetness, she jerked back her fingers. He moaned.
She closed her fingers around him again as she kissed him. It was incredible. He was warm and tasted of sweet ale and of her and of himself. He was hard and strong against her fingers. He fascinated her. She was beginning to feel those feelings again, deep in her belly, and in her breasts, that was very nice when he’d kissed her breasts, but he’d stopped only a moment after he’d begun. She wanted him to do it again.
“Cleve?”
He kissed the side of her mouth. His hand flattened on her hip bone. He was slipping from her hand.
“Cleve?”
He moaned softly, falling away from her onto his back.
She lurched over him and stared down at his face. He was asleep. She wanted to hit him. Instead, she lightly kissed his mouth. She snuffed out the wick.
“Well,” Chessa said to the dark chamber, “I suppose it’s a beginning. Not much of one, but a start.”
Dawn light shadowed the chamber. Chessa suddenly cried out in pain and jerked awake. She remembered she was married, she remembered everything. She felt sore between her legs and sticky. Again she felt a sharp jabbing pain in her ribs.
She shook her head, realized that Kiri was between her and Cleve and Kiri’s elbow had poked her twice.
She and Cleve were on the two edges of the bed. Kiri was lying flat on her back between them, her legs and arms sprawled away from her body. She was dreaming, tossing a bit now, and that elbow flailed again.
“Nay,” Chessa said, grabbed the child’s hand and brought it down. “Cleve, do wake up. We have a guest.”
Cleve awoke immediately, a habit he’d quickly learned when he was very young from his first master, an old merchant who sold furs and young boys. Thankfully, he’d believed Cleve too young to be used, and thus kept him in his shop, counting and sorting furs. Cleve looked at Chessa’s shadowed face, then down at his daughter. He groaned.
“Papa,” Kiri said, and yawned. “You were holding her really tight. It took me a long time to get between you.”
Cleve groaned again and fell off the side of the bed. When he opened his eyes, his daughter and his new wife were on their hands and knees, staring down at him.
