Bertrice Small - Beloved

Again he sensed her thoughts. "It only grows large when I desire you."

"You said you wanted me!" she accused.

"I do want you, my flower, but wanting and desiring are two different things. The wanting is in my head and my heart. The desire comes from my body."

He stretched out next to her on the bed. "There has been no time for desire this day." Reaching out, he drew her to him. "No time until now, Zenobia," and then his mouth was covering hers, tasting and possessing until with a great shudder she gave herself up to his building passion.

She had never expected a man's mouth to be so tender. It gently commanded her, and she obeyed, parting her lips to receive his velvety tongue, which stroked hers until suddenly she felt a fire beginning to build deep within her. Pulling her head away from his, she tried to clear the dizziness with several breaths of air, but he only laughed and captured her mouth again in a torrid embrace. Finally satisfied that her sweet lips had received their due, his mouth scorched a path down the side of her face, his slender fingers moving ahead along her slim neck. Pressing a hot kiss against her ear, he murmured, "Can you feel your own desire rising, my love?" and he gently bit on her earlobe, before moving on to the soft curve of her silken throat.

Zenobia was beginning to tremble, and when her husband's hands found her round full breasts she gasped softly with longing. She wanted his touch! She craved it, for men perhaps the terrible ache that was filling her entire being would dissolve and go away. Reverently he fondled each tender globe, and then without warning his head dipped down to capture within his warm mouth a quivering and already taut nipple. Hungrily he drew on her virgin breast, and she cried out, surprised not only by his action but the corresponding tightness in the hidden place between her legs.

He raised his head, and his voice soothed her. "Don't be afraid, my flower. Is it not sweet?"

Her answer was to draw his head back down to her breasts, where he resumed his pleasing dalliance; but soon he sought to explore further. One arm encircled her waist, while his other hand brushed across her belly, which fluttered wildly beneath his touch. His head dipped and his tongue teased her navel, causing her to writhe beneath him. The hand moved lower yet, to her smoothly plucked Venus mound, and now he could feel her beginning to resist him. She tensed beneath his fingers, and he could hear the nervousness in her voice.

"Please, Hawk! Please, no!"

"Why are you suddenly afraid of me?" He sought to touch her again, but she caught defensively at his hand.

" Please!”

It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps she did not know the way between a man and a woman. "Did Tamar tell you how it should be between us, between a husband and his wife?" he asked her.

"No," came the reply, "but I know it is the same as with the animals. The male mounts the female; is that not correct?"

"People are not animals, Zenobia. Animals feel need and they satisfy that need without any thought. A man with a woman is a different thing, my flower." He firmly moved her hand away, and gently caressed her. "I have always believed that the gods created woman to be worshiped by her lover. When I touch you with love I worship at the shrine of your perfection. You must not be afraid of me, or of my touch."

"I have never been touched there before," she said low, trembling beneath his fingers.

In answer he kissed her again, murmuring against her mouth, "Don't be afraid, my darling. Don't be afraid," and she felt him very carefully exploring her more intimately.

A strange languor was spreading over her, leaving her limbs weak and helpless. He was her husband, and yet should he be touching her like that? His finger gently penetrated her body, and she cried out, struggling to escape him, but the prince quickly shifted her so she lay completely beneath him. Atop her, he whispered soft love words into her ear. "No, Zenobia, no, my darling. Don't be afraid. Don't fight me, my flower."

She could feel every inch of his very masculine body. His smooth chest pressed against her full breasts; his flat belly pushed against her gently rounded one; his thighs met hers with a heat that brought a moan to her lips. All this time her hands had never sought to touch him, but now she could no longer control the wild desire that he was awakening in her. When he buried his face in her soft throat, his kisses seemingly endless, her arms wound about his neck and then, palms flat, she caressed the line of his back, ending as she cupped his hard buttocks in a gentle grasp.

"Oh, Hawk," she whispered, "your skin is so soft for a man."

"What do you know of men, Zenobia?" was the reply. His voice was strangely harsh, his lips burning against the tender flesh of her throat.

"I know nothing but what you would teach me, my husband," came the soft reply, and her hands moved back up again to clasp about his neck.

"I would teach you to be a woman, my flower. Are you brave enough?" he demanded, his dark eyes burning into hers.

She trembled against him, but her gaze was unwavering as she said, "Yes, my Hawk, yes, I am brave enough now."

His mouth covered hers in a sweet kiss, and she felt him slide his hands beneath her to raise her hips up just a little. Her blood was racing wildly through her veins and she couldn't control her trembling. Now, suddenly, she felt something hard probing insistently between her shaking thighs. "Hawk! Oh, my lord, I want to be a woman, but I am afraid again!" She squirmed away from him, and huddled in a comer of the bed.

The prince groaned with frustration. He had never wanted any woman so desperately in his life. He was tempted to force her beneath him, and take what he wanted of her. She would forgive him afterward; but when he lifted his head up she was staring with large, terrified eyes at his manhood.

" You cannot!" she cried. "You will tear me asunder!"

For a moment he enjoyed the flattery of her innocence. "You will birth our children there, my darling," he explained patiently. "If a whole baby can fit, then I can." Wordlessly she shook her head in the negative, but he drew her firmly back into his arms, kissing her tenderly, gently stroking her until the firestorm began to build within her again.

She felt so strange, as she had never felt before. Her body was honeyed fire that leapt and flowed under his orchestration; the pleasure-pain building until she believed she could bear it no longer. She was vaguely aware that he was once more covering her burning flesh with his own, but suddenly it didn't matter. She wanted it! She wanted him!

He felt her body relax beneath him, and in that instant his shaft entered the portals of her femininity, gently easing into her incredibly tight sheath. Her virginity was tightly lodged, and he stopped a moment, kissing her closed eyelids, tenderly brushing back a stray lock of hair from her forehead. She whimpered, a half-passionate, half-fearful sound, and he could feel her heart pounding beneath his chest.

Zenobia felt as if he was tearing her apart. His manhood filled her, gorged her, and the pain was fierce. She tried to he still, keeping her eyes tightly shut so he might not know and have his pleasure spoiled. When he stopped momentarily, lying atop her, attempting to soothe her, she felt a slight relief; but then he drew back and plunged swiftly through her maiden barrier. She shrieked with the hurt, and fought to escape him, but he was firmly in control, pushing deeper into her resisting sweetness.

"No! No!" she sobbed, the tears beginning to come, and then suddenly she became aware that his manhood, which just moments ago had seemed like a red-hot poker, was suddenly the source of the most marvelous sweetness; yet the ache was increasing. She no longer seemed able to fight him off. His shaft moved back and forth within her, and the world about her seemed to pulse and spin with a myriad of sensations. Zenobia had never imagined that anything could be as magnificent as this joining of bodies. She was as lost within him as he was in her. The pleasure built higher until the ache dissolved without warning, and she was falling, falling into a warm and welcoming blackness.