“There,” he said. “That’s what you did.”
“Did I?” She was shocked.
“Yes.” He smiled, then suddenly he looked solemn. “If you would only do it again, that would make up for all the sorrow of the last nine months.”
She tilted her face again and closed her eyes. After a moment she felt his mouth on hers. She opened her lips, hesitated, then nervously pushed her tongue into his mouth. As she did so she remembered how she had felt the last time she did it, in the old mill, and that ecstatic sensation came back. She was filled with the need to hold him, to touch his skin and his hair, to feel his muscles and his bones, to be inside him and have him inside her. Her tongue met his, and instead of feeling embarrassed and faintly repelled, she was thrilled to be doing something so intimate as touching his tongue with her own.
They were both breathing hard now. Jack held her head in his hands. She stroked his arms, his back, and then his hips, feeling the taut, bunched muscles. Her heart pounded in her chest. At last she broke the kiss, breathless.
She looked at him. He was flushed and panting, and his face shone with desire. After a moment he bent forward again, but instead of kissing her mouth, he lifted her chin and kissed the delicate skin of her throat. She heard herself moan with pleasure. He moved his head lower, and brushed his lips over the swell of her breast. Her nipples were swollen under the coarse fabric of the linen nightshirt, and they felt unbearably tender. His lips closed over one nipple. She felt the heat of his breath on her skin. “Gently,” she whispered fearfully. He kissed her nipple through the linen, and although he was as gentle as could be, she felt a sensation of pleasure as sharp as if he had bitten her, and she gasped.
Then he went down on his knees in front of her.
He pressed his face into her lap. Until this moment all the sensation had been in her breasts, but now, suddenly, she felt the tingling move to her groin. He found the hem of her nightshirt and lifted it to her waist. She watched him, afraid of his reaction: she had always felt ashamed of being so hairy down there. But he was not repelled; in fact he leaned forward and kissed her gently, right there, as if it was the nicest thing in the world.
She sank down on her knees in front of him. Her breath came in gasps now, as if she had run a mile. She wanted him badly. Her throat was dry with desire. She put her hands on his knees, then slid one hand under his tunic. She had never touched a man’s cock. It was hot and dry and hard as a board. Jack closed his eyes and groaned deep in his throat as she explored its length with her fingertips. She lifted his tunic, bent down, and kissed it, just as he had kissed her, a gentle brush of the lips. Its end was swollen tight as a drum and wet with some kind of moisture.
She was suddenly possessed by a desire to show him her breasts. She came upright again. He opened his eyes. Watching him, she quickly pulled her nightshirt over her head and discarded it. Now she was completely naked. She felt sharply self-conscious, but it was a good feeling, delightfully indecent. Jack stared, mesmerized, at her breasts. “They’re so beautiful,” he said.
“Do you really think so?” she said. “I always thought they were too big.”
“Too big!” he said as if the suggestion were outrageous. He reached out and touched her left breast with his right hand. He stroked her skin gently with his fingertips. She looked down, watching what he was doing. After a while she wanted him to be firmer. She took both his hands in hers and pressed them to her breasts. “Do it harder,” she said hoarsely. “I want to feel you more.”
Her words inflamed him. He squeezed her breasts, then took her nipples in his fingers and pinched them, just hard enough to hurt a little. The sensation drove her wild. All thought went out of her mind and she was completely possessed by the feel of his body and her own. “Take off your clothes,” she said. “I want to look at you.”
He pulled off his tunic and his undershirt, his boots and his hose, and knelt in front of her again. His red hair was drying into undisciplined curls. His body was thin and white, with bony shoulders and hips. He looked wiry and agile, young and fresh. His cock stuck up like a tree out of the auburn hair of his groin. Suddenly she wanted to kiss his chest. She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his flat male nipples. They puckered, just as hers had. She sucked at them gently, wanting him to have the same pleasure he had given her. He stroked her hair.
She wanted him inside her, quickly.
She could see that he was not sure what to do next. “Jack,” she said. “Are you a virgin?”
He nodded, looking a little foolish.
“I’m glad,” she said fervently. “I’m so glad.”
She took his hand and put it between her legs. She was swollen and sensitive there, and his touch was like a shock. “Feel me,” she said. He moved his fingers, exploring. “Feel inside,” she said. Hesitantly, he pushed a finger inside her. She was slippery with desire. “There,” she said with a sigh of satisfaction. “That’s where it has to go.” She detached his hand and lay back in the straw.
He lay over her, supporting himself on one elbow, and kissed her mouth. She felt him enter her a little way, then stop. “What is it?” she said.
“It feels too small,” he said. “I’m afraid of hurting you.”
“Push harder,” she said. “I want you so much I don’t care if it hurts.”
She felt him push. It did hurt, more than she had expected, but only for a moment, and then she felt wonderfully filled. She looked at him. He withdrew a little and pushed again, and she pushed back. She smiled at him. “I never knew it was so nice,” she said wonderingly. He closed his eyes, as if the happiness was too much to bear.
He began to move rhythmically. The constant strokes set up a pulse of pleasure somewhere in her groin. She heard herself give little gasps of excitement every time their bodies came together. He lowered himself so that his chest was touching her nipples and she could feel his hot breath. She dug her fingers into his hard back. Her regular gasps turned into cries. Suddenly she needed to kiss him. She buried her hands in his curls and pulled his head to hers. She kissed his lips hard, then thrust her tongue into his mouth and moved faster and faster. Having his cock in her cunt and her tongue in his mouth drove her out of her mind with pleasure. She felt a great spasm of joy shake her, so violent that it was like falling off a horse and hitting the ground. It made her cry out loud. She opened her eyes and looked into his eyes and said his name, and then another wave took her, and another; and then she felt his body convulse, and he cried out too, and she felt a hot jet spurt inside her, and that inflamed her even more, so that she shook with pleasure again and again, so many times that she lost count, until at last the feeling began to fade, and gradually she went limp and still.
She was too exhausted to speak or move, but she could feel Jack’s weight slumped on top of her, his bony hips on hers, his flat chest squashing her soft breasts, his mouth close to her ear, his fingers entwined in her hair. A part of her mind thought vaguely: That’s what it’s supposed to be like, between men and women; that’s why everyone makes so much fuss about it; that’s why husbands and wives love one another so much.
Jack’s breathing became light and regular, and his body relaxed until it was completely limp. He was asleep.
She turned her head and kissed his face. He was not too heavy. She wanted him to stay there, asleep on top of her, forever.
That thought made her remember.
Today was her wedding day.
Dear God, she thought, what have I done?
