Quint stepped out of his boots, freed his erection from his trousers, and stripped off the last of his clothing. Naked, he stretched out beside Catie and allowed one hand to rest on the curve of her olive-skinned hip. Her back was to him, but he could hear her all but purring with the pleasure of her climax. The sound of her contentment gave him immense satisfaction. He didn’t think he’d ever like anything better than giving Catie fulfillment.
Gradually, Catie turned toward him. Her eyes were heavy-lidded as she looked at him, and he couldn’t stop what he knew must be a cocky smile. “Feeling better now?”
“Umm-hmm.” She closed her eyes and stretched. He took the opportunity to allow his gaze to travel the length of her naked body. Her legs were as long as he’d anticipated, her thighs slim and muscled like a good Thoroughbred’s. He could picture those legs wrapped around him, her rounded hips rising to meet his every thrust.
When he looked back into her face, she was watching him. “Thank you,” she said, her hand reaching out to trail a finger lazily over his mouth. He closed his eyes and soaked in the moment of tenderness. He had not had many such moments in the last ten years.
She ran her finger over his lips and then across his cheek and over his eyes. Her touch was light and exploratory, as though she wanted to memorize every inch of his face. Then her hand strayed to his neck and his shoulder. She pushed lightly, indicating she wanted him on his back, and he obliged her, knowing what she would see when he moved to allow her more access.
Her hand trailed down his chest and then stopped. He felt her tense beside him and opened his eyes to find her looking down. His erection hardened and throbbed the longer she stared. “I still want you,” he said quietly, and her eyes jerked up to his. “But the decision is yours. We can stop now if you like.”
She blinked. “That hardly seems fair.”
“Fairness is subjective, and the sole property of those who make the rules. Tonight, you make the rules. What do you think is fair?”
She chewed her lip and looked down at him again. “I think it only fair you feel the same pleasure I did.”
He nodded. “There are many ways to accomplish that, but only one that will truly make you my wife.”
“Is that what you want?” she said.
“More than anything.”
“Then I want that, too. What do I have to do?”
“I’m afraid I will hurt you this first time.” He leaned over her, pushing her back against his bed gently and stroking a lock of her hair back from her face. “Will you tell me if it hurts too much?”
She nodded, and he could see the fear creep back into her eyes. He couldn’t resist propping himself up on one elbow and kissing her. And then he could not resist touching her, running his hands over her body in much the same way she had touched him only a few moments before. He learned the texture of her skin, the dips and the rises of her body, the weight of her breasts and the swell of her hip.
It was not long before her fear subsided, and he heard her breathing catch and then come in shorter bursts once again. She was wonderfully responsive, this bride who was to be his wife. She was a confusing mixture of temerity and confidence, trust and wariness. She was a work in progress—an early draft that was awkward but so genuine that he could not help but feel tenderness for her. And she gave it in return.
How he needed something tender and genuine in his life. The rhetoric, the political shouldering and selling—he’d mastered and thrived on them. He could be a bully when he need be. He could wheedle and he could demand and he could compromise.
But here, at home, he just wanted to be Quint. He wanted tenderness and pleasure and his wife’s contented sighs. She moaned beneath him, and he nudged her legs apart, this time settling himself between them. He was gentle and careful not to crush her with his weight. Her eyes fluttered open at this new feeling, but he kissed her again, and after a few minutes she relaxed and began to respond.
She was soft and pliant under him. She also felt small and vulnerable, and he ached to protect her and to bring her pleasure as well. He worried that between her fear and his complete lack of experience with virgins, this first time would not bring her much pleasure. He tried to think of the many nights to come.
It was not difficult to think of her on other nights and in other positions. He imagined her on top of him, her breasts jutting out as she arched back and took him inside her. He imagined her looking over her shoulder at him as he entered her from behind. And he thought of her in his arms, both of them lying sated after a night of lovemaking.
He could imagine her heavy with his child; then smiling at him with a baby in her arms; then coming to greet him, leading their children by tiny, unsteady hands. He wanted all of this from her, and it began tonight.
He’d been stroking her breasts and her stomach, but now he reached between them and stroked the moist slit between her legs. She was warm and wet, and he knew she was ready for him—her body, if not her mind.
“Sweetling,” he whispered, and her eyes fluttered. She moaned as his fingers found the hard nub between her folds. “I’m going to enter you now.”
It was the closest he could come to asking her permission. It was already taking most of his willpower to keep from plunging into her.
“Yes,” she moaned, pressing against him. “Yes, I want you inside me.”
He rose up and inserted the tip of his manhood. She moaned again, and he paused, knowing that her pleasure might soon end. “I’ll try to be gentle,” he murmured, entering her more fully and feeling his own pleasure build just as he encountered her barrier.
She was still moving against him, moaning and asking him for more. Her pleas and the feel of her tightening around him were driving him to madness. He pulsed and throbbed inside her, wanting to thrust hard and deep, but holding himself back. And then he felt the prick of her fingernails dent the flesh of his back, and he could hold off no longer. As slowly and gently as he could, he broke her barrier, opening her up, and entering her fully.
He bit his lip to stop the cry of ecstasy. She was so hot and tight. God, she felt so good. He moved within her and almost came. The only thing that stopped him was the small prick of pain in his back.
He opened his eyes and looked into her frightened face.
“I’m hurting you,” he said, seeing the pain now and the tears escaping onto her cheeks.
