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“My hands are busy as you can see,” he smirked, eyeing the bed.
“Youcouldput me down, you know,” she suggested.
“Not bloody likely,” he chuckled, burying his nose in her neck, a motion which only managed to make her laugh again and again as the ticklish sensations seized her. “I have been waiting so long to have you in my arms, I have no plan of releasing you any time soon.”
“Why?” She pretended not to know.
“Because that is where you belong, dove,” he was happy to clarify as he gently laid her down on the bed. He had been waiting for this moment for so long; he did not wish to rush it. He wanted to take things slow.
He looked at her, drinking in the sight of her. A surge of tenderness overpowered him, a surge of pride for he had never seen a woman quite like her. No other could ever compare. And yet, she chose him; she chose to belong to him.
“Now, just relax,” he urged as his trembling fingers found the buttons on her gown. There seemed to be an endless row of them. One by now, he began to undo them.
There she was, his goddess, allowing him to worship her, to see her in all her naked glory. He swallowed heavily. He considered pulling out the hairpins and releasing her luscious locks, but he would leave that for the final moment. The buttons yielded easily, mocking him not in their intricacy of opening but rather in their number.
Somehow— he was surprised by his own endless patience— he had waited so far to bury himself in the sight that was her. She was smiling, equally patient. She trusted him with herself, her heart, her body. The thought both thrilled him and terrified him. The realization how much he needed her gripped at him with such fervor that it left him breathless.
* * *
Bridget tried to remain still as she felt her husband’s fingers undo the buttons of her gown one by one.Her husband.The thought was new, yet not unfamiliar. In fact, she felt as if he had always been that, only never in name, never officially. Now, he was.
She listened to the sound of his breathing, feeling herself being rid of one additional button with each passing moment. He knew exactly what he was doing. Strangely, she was grateful for that, for she knew not. She only knew that she loved him with every breath her body took and with every beat of her heart. That was more than enough to welcome the unknown with him.
Finally, the last button was undone. He brought himself closer to her, his fingers gently taking her gown at her shoulders. She could not see her gown, but she knew it was astounding. She could feel the silk bodice underneath her fingertips, the adorned lace, the dainty little roses. She had wished for an ivory-colored gown with lots of delicate little details. From what Sarah had described, it was exactly the wedding gown she had been imagining as a little girl.
He leaned closer to her, pressing his lips to hers. It was a soft, gentle kiss. She completely released herself unto him, allowing the shoulders of her gown to slide down her arms, revealing her breasts. It was not cold at all, but her nipples immediately perked up eagerly. She blushed fervently.
Gently, his lips traveled downward, showering her with a million, soft kisses, trailing an invisible line. His tongue joined in, the heat unfurling inside of her. That same anguish between her thighs blossomed again, just like before. Only now, they would not need to stop.
“I will lead,” he whispered against her goose pebbled skin, “but I need your guidance as well. If I do anything that displeases you or causes you any discomfort, I need you to tell me immediately.”
“I cannot imagine you doing anything that would displease me or cause me any discomfort, my love,” she replied.
“Good,” she heard him grin.
His fingers continued to move around her, and she could feel one layer at a time disappearing from her body until she was finally left in nothing but her stockings and drawers. His lips found her nipples easily, making her gasp. Her head flew backwards as she bit her lower lip. The sensation was too much, her entire self aflame. His tongue teased her perked up nipple, nibbling and biting, blowing cold air at it, tugging again, and kissing. And so it went, until she felt she would lose her mind. The friction was enough to drive her mad, but she sensed suddenly that something was missing.
He seemed to be able to read her mind, this wonderfully wicked man. He gently pushed her to lie down as he proceeded to spread her legs, adjusting himself between them. His fingers found the hems of her drawers easily, sliding them down.
“Joseph, you surely do not mean to–”
“Shhh,” his voice was pure seduction.
Her drawers disappeared somewhere in the room, and now she was left only in her stockings. She expected him to slide those off as well, yet he did not. His fingers glided from her knees up her inner thighs, a caress softer than the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. A moment later, his lips were on her mound.
“Oh…” she moaned, completely lost in this awakening of the senses. His scent, his touch, his warm breath on her skin, his tongue between her legs, his everything. Hewaseverything to her.
She closed her eyes as his tongue slide between her wet folds, parting them. Her hands dug into his hair, grabbing a fistful. She bucked at him, giving him easier access to the place not even she herself dared to touch before. His tongue knew exactly where to go and what to lick while his lips sucked at the skin. Her throbbing center had awakened with a vengeance. Her swollen bud was aching, palpitating. When he suddenly moved away, she gasped in shock and in sheer, utter need.
“Do you like this, dove?” he asked.
Her body trembled at this cruel, cruel question. How could she not? Was she not melting right there in his arms? Did he really need to ask?
“Yes…” she murmured back sweetly, hotly. It was easy to respond, for her body seemed to be one with her mind.
He immediately returned to his utter adoration of her woman’s temple, but this time he was a man on a mission, a mission to drive her completely and utterly insane with desire for him. As if such a thing was difficult to accomplish. She was already walking on the brink of the abyss, looking down. She did not need much at all. His relentless tongue pushed her over the brink, and all she could do was relinquish control to the feeling that was taking over.
It was nothing she could have ever prepared herself for. Her fingers kept clutching at his hair as his tongue and lips kept sucking at her swollen, puckered bud. It was an explosion of all possible emotions on the spectrum, all amalgamated into one. She felt like an instrument, and Joseph was a virtuoso, knowing exactly how to play her to create a most wonderous melody. Her ears boomed with a distant sound, her heart beat faster than a track horse at Ascot’s, and the only way she could ever describe it, if she had to, was in one word.Bliss.
