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The backs of his knuckles drew up and down the outside of her thigh. So gently did he do this she felt languorous but also invigorated, an odd combination. A fingertip teased over her kneecap, and she wanted to push into his touch. His hips settled into her side, and his male part in no way nor by any stretch of the imagination felt akin to an inanimate candle.
“Is this pleasant for you?” he asked, and she nodded. He then put his whole hand over her knee. “And this?” She nodded again and sighed when he squeezed it—then gasped when his palm drew up on the inside of her leg.
“No?” he asked.
“No?” she said, unsure, if only because: “Is this necessarily a part of this?”
“Oh, it is.” He raised himself over her, and she tucked her head; it was too much to meet his eyes. “If you would allow me?”
***
Madam nodded again, and Arthur commenced touching her, lightly, with his fingertips, up one thigh and down the other, parting her legs as gently as he could. Gods, her skin was like silk; he wanted to rub his face all over her body—was her belly as soft? It was, and she was as sensitive there as she was behind her ear. He huffed a pleased little laugh as she shivered under his touch.
He laid a hand on her lower belly, so near her cunny, and wanted to kiss her everywhere, her mouth, her jaw, her belly, the tops of her thighs; do not even get him started on her breasts, which heaved with her labored breath. She writhed again, in resistance or desire? Her fragrance was muted, still, a circumstance that should not be and yet was. Her true essence in ways was withheld from him, and yet he could feel…
He stroked a finger across her honeypot, found the moisture there, evidence of her response even if he could not scent it. Madam made a noise like a perplexed kitten, a little mew of confusion. Did she like it, or did she dislike it? “May I?” He nudged his nose at her ear again. She moved her head away and then back and touched her nose glancingly to his jaw, a nuzzle of his sideburns, as light as a feather, that served to inflame him out of proportion. She nodded, and he added another finger, then another, and stroked and stroked. She moved her head from side to side. Again, desire or resistance? “No?”
“Yes?” she whispered, and if he hadn’t been attuned to every twitch of her being, he would have missed the infinitesimal lift of her hips.
Keep hold of yourself, man, he warned himself as his cock, which had responded with interest to the softness of her skin, surged to full hardness at the movement. “Yes?”
She nodded, and he said, “I prefer you to speak your permission, Madam.”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”
He set his whole hand over her entrance, and she sighed. His fingers found her sensitive nub and her hips flew up to meet his. He soothed her into acceptance of his touch, and he asked again, and she said yes, yes again. He stroked her ear with his nose, which made her sigh and melt, and he glanced her jaw with his mouth, oh, how he wanted to kiss her. He rubbed his nose against hers and hovered his lips over hers.
“I do not like that.” She turned her head away.
“Kissing?” Blessed Freya, who did not like kissing?
“Do not.”
“As you say, Madam.” He laid his forehead beside hers on the pillow, arched above her, and wished for…things that did matter in this instance. “May I continue? There is no need to go on if you do not wish.”
“I wish.” She reached out, slowly, and set her hand upon his biceps. “Yes, do. Please continue.”
He allowed his hand to rest on her cunny, palm large enough to cover her entirely. He settled himself over her, and she started at the touch of his cock and yet cuddled up to him with her hips. He recited the Nordic pantheon to himself. He traced his fingers over her contours; her breath caught, and her pulse beat like a drum. He whispered nonsense, and if he invoked some of his gods and goddesses aloud, he could not be blamed. She tucked her face against his heart and rubbed her cheek against his chest, and one hand snuck up to rest beside it as the other stroked his shoulder. He shifted her thighs further apart, and she took a breath. “Easy, Madam. Breathe. I am here.”
“That is apparent,” she muttered, and a puff of laughter escaped them both.
Odin, Freya, Sif, he thought,Baldur, Loki, Thor, let me be gentle, let me be easy, let me in, Madam, oh gods…He sank slowly into her heat, her sheath so tight. He met resistance on his way, felt her stiffen, and he halted. He was like to spend before he was fully seated in any case. He fought to keep quiet to prevent further alarm, but it proved impossible when both her hands petted at his sides and her palms settled on his back. What would her little hand feel like on his cock?Freya, Frigga, Sif…
Regulating his breathing was a dead loss. If only she would allow kissing, kissing would help pass the time until she relaxed. Speculating as to how previous forays into such behavior had poisoned her against it served to keep him from losing his sense entirely. He nosed at her throat, and she returned the favor, hitching her knees up, and they moaned in concert. He slid farther forward, slowly, and he wrapped his arms around her until, there was no delicate way to put it, he entered her completely.
“Thank you,” Madam whispered.
Did she think that was that? “You are very welcome,” he murmured, “but we have only just begun.”
He reached beneath her, and his hand captured her entire bottom in one palm, and he moved.
***
He moved, and Beatrice gasped. There had been a pinch of pain, and she’d thought the act was complete, he was fully inside her, surely it was done. But no. There was more, and she was feelingmore, everything, inside and out.
His skin was…not truly rough but a contrast to hers, making her feel that much softer. He had muscles everywhere, and yet she did not fear being crushed or hurt. He seemed to be doing his utmost to ensure her comfort and honored her wish to abstain from kissing. The heat from his body and the power in it were quite breathtaking, and he was clearly enjoying himself.
Her mind wandered back to when he had touched her cunny and her breath had gone labored and her muscles had turned to water. It seemed unfortunate it wasn’t part of the greater effort. Nevertheless, this was far more pleasant than she would have guessed! Beatrice nudged at his shoulder with her nose and then rubbed her cheek against his biceps. She squirmed as he squeezed her bum, and his breath caught, so she did it again, and he growled, and she wanted to laugh, which seemed to be permitted. Given her previous experiences, she was optimistic this was going well enough. She rubbed her nose on his chest and laid her cheek there. It was quite cozy now the odd little pain had passed. She wondered if he would be about this much longer.
