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“In here?” Marion asked quizzically, “but I thought—”
“There is no need to rush.” Simon closed the door and slowly pulled her to him, setting her arms up around his shoulders and placing his own hands gently at her waist. Marion felt her skin breaking out in goosebumps as his fingers trailed slowly up and down the sides of her body. “We can take all the time you need.”
He kissed her gently, his fingers spanning her waist and back. Marion felt herself melting. She couldn’t help it; it was as if she was a wax candle exposed to hot flames. When he pulled away, she leaned towards him, like a magnet pulling towards its ultimate source.
“I - I am grateful for your consideration,” Marion gasped, trying not to let her voice shake.
“I would never want to pressure you, Marion.”His voice was so soft, so deep. She felt like she was drowning in the stormy grey of his eyes, longing to run her fingers through the long, bouncing dark curls of his hair.
She appreciated his kindness. She of course did not want to be pressured, but she couldn’t stop the slow unfurling of feeling inside of her that wanted nothing more than to be pushed against the door, to feel the pressure of his body against hers.
“It - it is very kind of you to - to take account of my…inexperience.” Marion swallowed hard, feeling the tight muscles of his shoulders under her fingers.“I hope it is not something that will displease you,” she said, blushing as she looked down, focusing on his chest, which rose and fell with short breaths.
She didn’t know how to speak to him about these things. As a girl who had been brought up for service and not society, she knew the truth—that gentleman did not have to keep their purity as closely guarded as ladies. She knew that he would have had much experience before he was married, and of course, there were the many years with his wife. She didn’t know how she, a virgin, would compare or please him. She swallowed hard, trying to find the appropriate words for it.
“You - you are a man of the world, you have been married and I—”
“Take my breath away,” Simon interrupted, tilting her face up to look at him, his face serious but also kind. “That’s what you do.”
Marion’s stomach flipped at his words.
“I do?” she whispered breathily. She couldn’t quite believe that he could truly desire her in that fashion, despite the wideness of his pupils and the flush in his cheeks. “Really?”
“Yes.” Simon’s voice was suddenly hoarse and he pulled her a little closer, pressing her body against his. “It’s true that I have more experience than you do, but you are beautiful and desirable to me, Marion.”
“I - I can’t believe it,” Marion whispered, feeling the warmth of his breath on her nose. She shook her head, as if trying to bring herself back to reality. “I feel like this must all be a dream.”
“Why?” Simon asked, his eyebrows tightening a little. “Do you not trust my word?”
“No, I - I do, of course,” Marion stammered, worrying suddenly that she would be upsetting him. “It’s only that I have never been looked at before, in the way you are looking at me.”
Her voice drifted off, unable to speak when he looked at her with his wintry grey eyes that reminded her so much of cold seas and storms and icy winds. She gulped hard, and somehow found the words to finish her sentence.
“It is only hard to believe it is actually real,” she finished, her voice little more than a breath. She looked down, letting her dark hair hide her face, ashamed of her disbelief.
Simon smiled, gently, and brushed her curls from her face.“I do not believe that I am the only man who has looked at you with such desire,” he said softly, “but I am honoured to be the man who is permitted to show it. Now all you must do is believe it.”
“I…shall try,” Marion whispered, tilting her head back and letting herself be kissed. When he kissed her like this, with a deep breath and a sigh and his hands tangled in her hair, she felt like she was a heroine in a novel, finally coming home to her Prince Charming. Moments like this were too unbelievable for words, the magic of them overwhelming her senses with taste and smell and touch.
He pulled away, kissing her softly on her cheeks and forehead, kisses light as butterflies, and Marion felt a surge of desire. But she didn’t want to be treated too softly. She didn’t want him to be fearful of touching her, so without really processing if the action would be lewd of unladylike, she moved her hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers and pushing her body up to press against his.
Simon groaned against her lips, moving her backwards so that her shoulders met the firm wood of the door to his bedchamber, her head knocking lightly against the panels. Marion gasped with excitement, feeling a deep thrill running all the way down to her core that was like an electric shock, leaving her trembling.
“I’m sorry,” Simon gasped, pulling back quickly, “did I hurt you? I didn’t mean—”
Marion stopped his words with her mouth, encouraging him to press his body against hers. He responded so quickly, immediately pushing his leg between hers, grunting with satisfaction where their hips met and burying his face in her neck, teasing and biting the skin.
“You didn’t hurt me,” Marion breathed into his ear, feeling his body tremble at her words. “I liked it.”
“Well then,” Simon breathed, his eyes cloudy with excitement. “Let us see what else you like.”
He lifted her arms above her head, pressing her palms into the doorframe. Marion sucked in her breath, but held his gaze steadily, knowing he was watching for her reaction to see if she was uncomfortable. Holding her gaze with erotic silence, he lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing her slowly, pausing in between each kiss to trail his lips against her skin, his breath warming it like hot air on glass.
She tried not to breathe too quickly, but she couldn’t help the rapid rise and fall of her chest as he pinned her hands in place and fluttered his lips down to meet the rounded flesh of her breasts at the neckline of her gown. Marion had never felt such tenderness, such incredible, electrifying feeling from the touch of his kiss.
“My Lord,” she whispered as his tongue licked the graceful slope of her cleavage.
“Simon,” he said, lifting his head. “You must call me Simon when we are alone.”
