Pamela Morsi (24 page)

“I’m afraid, too,” she told him.

His heart was racing. His blood was pounding. His palms were sweating.

“Are you sure?” he asked her.

“I’m sure,” she answered.

He didn’t know quite what to do next. Surely he should grab her or kiss her or … His thoughts trailed off in unexpected directions.

“I’ve never been with a woman who hadn’t been with someone else,” he admitted. “I may disappoint you.”

“If I’ve never been with anybody, how will I know if I should be disappointed?”

Her question caught him off guard and he glanced up to see his bride looking at him with eyes lit with mischief.

Moss found himself grinning back at her. It was just them. Just the two of them. What they found together would be their own. And it would be as much hers as his. They would make the best of it. Better or worse, they would make the best of it.

“L
ET
’
S
go fix us a place to be man and wife, Mrs. Collier,” he said.

She blushed prettily. It made him feel protective. Hand in hand they walked back into the woods. They tramped around for several moments looking for the perfect spot to bed down.

Moss finally found it on the high point at the north end of the island. The trees were thin and the moon was visible on the rise. Tall grass grew thickly, rising thigh-high. With his knife, Moss cut and stacked it like hay for a cozy bed.

He slipped his galluses down over his shoulders, allowing them to hang ineffectually at his hips as he removed his good shirt It would probably be forever grass-stained, but it was already scorch-marked and he was far from being able to regret it He was still decently covered by his red flannels. They would take the disrobing slowly, he decided. He didn’t want to shock or offend her any more than would be absolutely necessary.

“Here, put this down, too,” Eulie said.

Moss turned to her and she handed him her dress. His mouth went dry. She was standing in the silvery
gray light of evening, looking proud and pretty somehow in her worn, homespun undergarments. Her legs were sheathed in black cotton stockings. He followed the length of them until they disappeared under the hem of her white josey. Moss remembered with great clarity, that beneath that thin covering, she was baby-smooth and bare naked.

He swallowed determinedly. He would not just grab her and bury himself inside, he reminded himself. If they were only to have one night, one coupling, one experience to remember all life long, he would not waste it being selfish and greedy.

He spread her dress out neatly atop the bed of grass before turning to look at her once more.

Moss knew that he should rise to his feet and take her in his arms. But somehow his knees had turned into jelly. All the strength and power and muscle in his body seemed to have centered in one low-lying area and he was not sure if he could stand So he did not. He sat on the edge of their bridal bower, gazing up at her.

“Take your stockings off,” he said to her.

Eulie nodded gamely, though he could see once more that she was nervous. She bent forward to undo the ties on her shoe.

Moss leaned slightly sideways to catch a glimpse of a pale, rounded backside beneath the tail of her josey.

She glanced up and caught him looking. They both straightened, flustered, and she pulled modestly at the hem behind her.

“Did you see anything?” she asked him.

“A little,” Moss answered honestly. “Not as much as I wanted.”

Her expression changed Any sense of shame or discomfiture
dissipated. His words endowed her with a power. An age-old power that women always held with men.

Eulie gazed at Moss thoughtfully for a long moment before she leaned down to unlace the other shoe.

“Look all you want,” she told him casually.

This time her movements were exaggerated. She actually bent lower than was necessary and thrust out her buttocks in a manner that was both provocative and more revealing.

Moss stretched out on his side, bracing his elbow on the ground. From this vantage point he could see so much his throat went dry.

She straightened slowly, giving him ample time to survey her fully.

“Did you see everything?” she asked him.

Moss cleared his throat, hoping to ensure that his answer did not come from his voice box in startling soprano.

“I saw a lot that I liked,” he told her. “But to see everything, you’d have to be naked.”

Eulie took his statement as the challenge that it was. She grasped the hem of her josey and slowly raised it.

Moss saw the tops of the black cotton stockings and then the pale flesh of her thighs above them. She revealed the thin covering of pale blonde hair that covered her mons, the rounded curve to her waist, a tiny, sculpted belly button, a delicately feminine rib cage, and a pair of high upswept breasts with hard pink nipples.

Pulling the josey over her head, she cast it down on their makeshift bed. She raised her arms over her head and removed the pins from her hair, allowing the
baby-fine tresses to hang loosely at her shoulders. She stood above him, proud, exposed.

Moss could not imagine any woman looking more desirable, more enticing. He glanced at her face and saw her lower lip trembling. She was not as sure of herself as she pretended to be.

“You are beautiful,” he told her and opened his arms in invitation.

She dropped to her knees beside him and fell into his embrace. Eagerly he ran his hands across her naked flesh. She was unbelievably soft and he felt incredibly hard.

He ran his hands down the long length of her back. She shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked her, pulling her more tightly into him.

She gave him a little half-embarrassed chuckle.

“
Cold
is not what I am at all,” she told him.

He laughed, too. Then he kissed her. That was something that they had gotten good at. It had been so enticing when their hands had been tied, only able to express their feelings with lips and tongue. They had learned a lot about each other from that. Now they put that experience together with eager caresses and lustful curiosity.

They lay together side by side as he stroked her buttocks and thighs. The expanse of flesh between her waist and her stocking tops was extremely alluring. He ran his hands over it again and again.

“You never did take your stockings off,” he pointed out between kisses.

“You should leave me some modesty,” she answered.

“Modesty?”

He made the word a question as he rolled her on to her back and spread her legs with his own.

“I don’t see anything modest about your choice of clothing,” he said.

“That’s because you still have on everything but your shirt.”

“Well, I am not the one who looks so well without clothes.”

She smiled up at him, pleased with his compliment. But he was speaking the truth. His bride had a nice, tight little figure that showed off better naked than dressed up. It was a secret about his woman that no other man would ever know.

Moss raised himself on knees and elbows, admiring her beneath him. He lowered his mouth to her breast, sucking and teasing until she began to squirm. He moved to the other breast giving it the same treatment. Her pleasure was evident. And in all her wiggling, she began to rub the juncture of her thighs up against his knee.

From the moan that escaped her, it was clear that the movement gave her a lot of pleasure.

Moss slid his hand down to where she pressed herself so eagerly against him. She was hot and wet and slick, and he easily lodged a finger inside of her.

“Oh! Oh my!” she said as she rocked her pelvis eagerly against his hand.

“This is where I’m headed,” he told her. “This is where I want to be inside you. But I want to take my time getting there. Can you wait?”

“Oh, I … I don’t know … I … oh, I feel so strange.”

Moss dragged his thumb across the stiff little nub
that poked impudently out of her thicket of thin blonde curls.

She gasped and jerked at the contact.

He enjoyed her reaction so much, he did it once more just to watch her again.

“You’re very sensitive down here,” he told her.

“Yes,” she admitted breathlessly as she continued to squirm against the action of his hand.

“Do you ever touch yourself down here?”

“What?”

“Alone in bed?” he asked. “Or maybe when you’re at your bath, do you ever touch yourself down here.”

He leaned down close to her, nipping her throat before he spoke again.

“Answer me,” he demanded softly. “And do not lie.”

“Sometimes,” she confessed. “Sometimes I touch myself.”

“And does it feel good when you do it?” he asked.

“Not this good,” she answered.

As a reward for her honesty, he set his thumb directly on top of her and began to move it in a rotating fashion.

Eulie was whimpering with need. He was big as a fence post and throbbing with desire. But if they were only going to get once, he wanted it to be the very best that could be had.

She raised her knees up beside his hips, opening herself more fully to him. He was nipping and tasting his way across her bosom and down her stomach.

Her sighs and pleadings were louder now. Her hips were bucking and undulating rhythmically against his hand.

She cried out, desolate when he removed his thumb.
That cry turned into a scream of pleasure as he lowered his mouth over her and took the passion-swelled nubbin between his teeth.

Her climax was loud and shattering. Her whole body outside went straight and stiff. Inside, her muscles clenched and spasmed against his fingers.

Moss had never done this with a woman. He had never touched one in this manner. But he’d enjoyed it. He’d enjoyed making it happen for her, watching it happen for her. If not for his own raging, now painful erection, he might have been content with just the pleasure of giving her pleasure.

He lay down beside her, wrapping her in his embrace, and continued to stroke and caress her as she relaxed and her breathing quieted. She snuggled against him, so warm and satisfied. It felt wonderful. It also felt as if he didn’t get some relief soon, he would shatter into a million pieces.

“That was wonderful,” she whispered to him. “I just feel so warm and content, just too lazy to ever move again. I’ve never … I never imagined it was like that. And I didn’t know a man could do that with his hand and … and his mouth.”

Moss felt proud enough to crow like a rooster but managed to restrain himself.

“Well, Eulie,” he told her. “My hand and my mouth feel just marvelous. But I got other places that are achy and neglected.”

Her brow furrowed curiously, and he drew her palm down the stiffness of his erection.

“My goodness,” she said. “Is it always that big? I don’t know how you carry such a thing around in your trousers.”

“It’s not always this big,” he assured her.

“Well, it seems to be like that any time I have anything to do with it,” she told him.

A little explosion of laughter erupted from him.

“I think you have that effect upon it,” he told her.

Holding her hand, he showed her how to stroke him. He lay back, eyes closed, moaning as he held himself in control.

When she suddenly ceased, he raised his head. Her nimble fingers were working at his trouser buttons.

“I think it’s time to get you out of these clothes,” she told him. “I can’t be the only one sitting out here in the open air, naked.”

“I let you keep your stockings,” he told her.

As she tugged his trousers down over his hips, she grinned at him.

“I don’t intend to be nearly as generous,” she said.

She wouldn’t allow him to so much as raise a hand in assistance as she disrobed him. Dispensing with his boots, socks, and trousers was actually pleasant enough. But when she slowly released the buttons on his union suit, pausing to run her hands inside along his bare flesh, he became increasingly excited.

Moss put his hands behind his head, partly to relax in comfort and partly to keep him from simply grabbing her and rutting away.

She slipped his arms out of the sleeves and dragged the fabric down to his waist without much trouble. When she released the straining buttons below, his erection sprang forth in a way that was almost comical and momentarily startled her.

“Oh my!” she said and then determinedly looked away as if the sight of him fully engorged was too vulgar
for her to look upon. But as she continued to ease the union suit down his legs, Moss caught her taking a couple of surreptitious glances.

When he was completely naked he sat up, and she came eagerly into his arms. It was wonderful to be skin to skin, naked to naked with her.

Tentatively, she reached out to touch him intimately.

“It’s so smooth,” she said with genuine surprise. “I never expected it to be so smooth.”

He pulled her hand away.

“I don’t think you’d better do that,” he said.

“You don’t like it?”

“I do like it,” he told her. “I like it very much. But I want to be inside you. I don’t want to hurt you, but I want to be inside you.”

“I want it, too,” she said. “I’m not afraid any more. You made me feel so good, I know that nothing with you could feel bad.”

Moss was not sure if she was right, but he hoped she was.

He urged her to lie back in the tousled grass and he lay on top of her.

Her hair was spread out like a moonlit halo around her head. And he thought to himself that no angel had ever been so lovely.

Moss struggled to control himself. He had overcome her fears and shown her pleasure. He didn’t want to ruin that now with haste or clumsiness. He kissed her and stroked her as he eased into position. Ever so gently he pressed himself forward into the narrow opening of her body.

She was so hot and so tight, he bit his lip against
the intensity of it. He wanted to push on inside. But there was a barrier to be breached. Pain to be inflicted.

“Easy, easy now.” He controlled himself as he would a skittish horse. “Let’s take it very easy.” Calm words as his heartbeat roared in his ears.

Slowly he pressed forward. Don’t hurt her, he warned himself. Just don’t hurt her.

His own need urged him, but he gritted his teeth and held control. He tilted his hips ever so slightly, moving within her at a snail’s pace. Gently, oh so gently filling her. Giving her time to become accustomed to him. Forcing himself to prove just how unselfish he could be.

When he reached the restriction of her maidenhead, he stopped completely, waiting, breathing, struggling with the animal appetites that compelled him to please himself, to get satisfaction, fighting the urge to relieve the desires of his own flesh.

Determinedly he held fast to his concern for her. And fate rewarded him. The thin veil of flesh gave way without resistance and he slid full entry, like a hot knife though butter.

He was inside her, and her body stretched and adjusted to accommodate him. But it was not solely physicality that held them in awe. The unanticipated intensity of their union, the incredible completeness of two people becoming one was almost overwhelming.