The Muse (17 page)

“I am here,” she answered, her voice tremulous.

He followed the sound to the dressing screen where she stood behind it, the outline of her shape showing clearly in shadow.  “Do you need more time,
chérie
?”

“No.”  He plainly saw the shaking of her head.

“Then why are you still back behind there?  Are you hiding?”

“No…I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Are you afraid,
chérie
?  I hope not.  You’re so lovely.  I can tell just by seeing your shadow through the screen.”  He saw her take in a deep breath.  “I’ve seen you before in your nightdress, you know…and you were so beautiful then.  ’Twas only a week ago, that night in the library, and you weren’t scared.”  He heard a little gasp come from her.  “Can you come out,
chérie
?  I want to see you, and hold you in my arms.  I love you so much, and I just want to show you, that is all.”

Silence met his entreaty.

Patience…  Give her what she needs.

“I’ll wait until you are ready to come out,” whispering the last part very softly, but knowing she heard, he saw her breathing get faster before she started to move out from behind the screen.

Glinting hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back; her gown had slipped a bit off one shoulder, the hem of it making a slight train.  The shawl he’d given her was wrapped around her shoulders, but it had slipped down as well.

Glorious.

“
Chérie
, you take my breath away.”  He bowed to her first, and then held out his arms.  It was the perfect gesture to break the tension, just what she needed apparently, because she came right into his embrace.  To hold her, finally, after the long day’s events was pure heaven.  He tilted her chin up, “I do not have speech to express how beautiful you were just now, standing there for me.”

“Your hair is loosed,” she said in answer, reaching a hand up to smooth a portion lovingly behind his ear.  “That I may see
you
like this,” she whispered, completely unaware of the effect her words were having on him.

Graham bent and took her lips.  Gently at first, he held her and kissed caressingly in the only way he knew how to be with her.

No more waiting to make you mine.

SHE felt his teeth graze her lips as the kisses grew stronger and more insistent.  He pushed his tongue into her mouth and tasted.  She followed his lead, but the pace escalated quickly, and soon all possession of her mouth was completely taken over by him.  It was a conquering; there was no other way to describe what he was doing.

She stiffened a little in his arms and he felt her. Pulling back right away, he searched her face.  “
Chérie
?  Are you afraid?  Does this worry you?”

“A little,” she admitted.  She took in a deep breath, trying to be brave.  “I feel—I do feel your love, but I confess it is—” she swallowed hard, “I am unsure about how to—how to be a proper wife to you—”

He stopped her by gently placing his fingers over her mouth and whispered, “Let me love you.  Never have fear of pleasing me, Imogene.  If you were any more pleasing to me, I’d probably not be able to bear it.”
 
He brought his hands to her face; one stroked her cheek with his thumb, the other, her hair.  “I want you to think back to the time before the wedding, when
this
had to be held in check for the sake of propriety?”

She nodded in remembrance, feeling her neck and shoulders flushing with heat.

Smiling admiringly, he remarked, “It is so very pretty when you blush for me.”  He feathered kisses along her neck and throat in between his words.  “Now, we do not have to hold back.  Things are finally as they should be between us,
chérie
.  Please do not fear it…do not…do not
ever
have fear of me.”  Returning to her lips, he resumed the kissing, slower now, but just as demanding as before.

“Just relax,
chérie
, and let me—”

Being touched, surrendering to him in this way, did feel divine.  She gasped in a deep breath of air at the touch of his tongue on her neck.

He moved back to look deep into her eyes as his hands began slipping off her shawl.  “I want…I want to see you,
chérie
?”  It was whispered in the way of a request.

She nodded her agreement with the slightest movement of her head, and it was enough for him to proceed.  Her shawl was laid on the settee, and his hands came to the ties of her gown.  As he worked to untie them, Imogene met her husband’s gaze and was mesmerized by the look of longing to be seen in his green eyes.  She remembered Aunt Wilton’s words: 
‘He will
lead you in the ways of what he desires.’ 
He wanted to see her—all of her.  And he was going to.

Oh, I cannot breathe.  He is—he’s taking it off!

The ties undone, he pushed it open to her shoulders.  The fabric began to slip off and bunch at her waist.  The weight of the gown caused it to continue to fall, slipping lower until gravity took over, sliding it completely off her body and into a pool on the floor.  It required everything she had to keep her hands from clutching back her gown to cover herself.

She was bared to him and his raking eyes.

He stared, his eyes moving over her from head to toe.  Graham studied her naked body as she tried to remain standing for him, and to remember to take in breaths of air.

“You are resplendent,
chérie
.  You look like Botticelli’s painting of Venus—‘Venus Rising From the Sea’ with your hair streaming down over you.”

The next thing she knew Graham had swept her off her feet and was carrying her toward the bed.  She felt so slight in his strong arms as he tenderly laid her onto the mattress, supporting her head before he released her, gazing down at her for a moment.

“I am undone by how lovely you are.  Do not fear this,
chérie.
It is just me and I going forward together.  I love you with all my heart.”  He said the words to her as he untied his robe.  Slowly he shrugged it off his big shoulders until it fell down his back, and then he opened it and allowed it to fall away down to the floor.

His shoulders were not the only part of him that was big.  Imogene knew what a cock was, but she’d never seen an adult male cock, and not in the condition which Graham’s appeared at this moment, so rigid and…enormous.  Dear God, how on earth would this work between them?

Imogene remembered the part of Aunt Wilton’s advice about allowing him to lead her, and trusting him.  The more she looked, the more she became unable to look away from the beauty of his body, so hard, and strong, and pulsing with need.  For her.  Imogene understood that much.  He wanted her, but he was also asking her to accept him.  He needed a kind of consent from her.

She opened her arms to him and he took her invitation swiftly, joining her on the bed, pressing his hard body up against her much smaller and softer one.  As soon as she offered herself to him, an understanding seemed to fall into place, and Graham took the lead.

Hands and mouth moved over her, exploring, tasting, and giving pleasure to her senses.  Especially when he put his mouth to her breasts and took her nipples into his mouth and sucked on them.

Imogene completely and utterly gave herself up to him and what he was doing.  She yielded, mentally as well as physically.  It was the only way for her to get through the experience, as she could hardly comprehend it.  His touches were shocking in their liberty and all-consuming in their intimacy.  He brought his fingers to her cunny and stroked the sensitive nub at the centre, making her sex wet and slippery.  She could not imagine anything past the next second in time as she bore the pleasurable sensations his touch brought.  Would it continue forever?  How did it end?  She trembled, moving under him, needing something, anything to complete this sense of teetering, but never falling.  She became desperate.  “Graham, please—”

He silenced her with his mouth.  “I know…I know.”

His eyes locked onto hers as he crawled up her body and moved her legs apart, bending them at the knees.  Staring at her nakedness again, his eyes widened at the sight of her spread open and exposed no doubt.  She could hardly comprehend what was happening to her—

“You’re so perfectly beautiful, Imogene,” he whispered as he lowered his hips to align with hers.

She started to shake, impassioned and nearly out of her mind when she felt the kiss of what was certainly the tip of his cock at her cunny.  She closed her eyes.

“It is well, my beautiful
chérie
,” he soothed her.  “Please do not be afraid…you’re ready for me…you are.  You’re so beautiful right now.  God.”  His forearms rested on either side of her.  His breath came quicker as he held her face with a hand.  “Look at me.  Look into my eyes.  I want your eyes on mine…so you can see how much I love you when I—”

She opened her eyes and felt a great pressure pushing in at her sex.

Graham held her face to him and thrust forward with his hips, his green eyes flaring wide.

“Ohhhhh,” she cried out as a sharp stab of pain broke through the waves of sensual pleasure she’d felt before.

Graham groaned over her but held the side of her face up to him, waiting for her to settle and become used to the feeling of him inside her.  He remained still, but continued to stroke her hair and face, to kiss over her lips and jaw.  “You feel so good, so perfect,” he said lovingly.

After a few moments he began to move his hips, shallowly at first, sliding his cock in and out in a steady rhythm.  The sensation was one of great pressure more so than pain for Imogene, but still overwhelming in feeling as well as mind, for she had to accept what was actually happening between them.

Bodies moved, lips kissed, pushing, pulling, sliding, stroking skin-on-skin at the most intimate of places.  Captor to captive, husband to wife, lover to lover, they began the ancient rite.  His movements started slowly, but then gained in strength and intensity as he took total possession of her.  He claimed her body, plundered her, made her his.  Time paused, didn’t matter.  She sensed his need and let herself go.  It was her way of accepting this new experience.  He was different than he had ever been with her before, uninhibited and utterly impassioned when she felt him grow even larger and impossibly harder inside her.

Graham cried out her name in a deep guttural groan, thrusting hard and deep one last time before shuddering over her, looking like a beautiful pagan god from a Greek myth.

GRAHAM collapsed down to his side and pulled her firmly, possessively against him, not capable of much more than just holding on to her.  His arm and leg were strewn over her, his head nestled right in above her shoulder.  For now, he just floated along in the ocean of her. 
Heaven.  Bliss.  Love.  Relief.  Mine.

He felt Imogene’s fingers moving through his hair.  She was quiet.  They stayed like this for moments, hours, days; who knew, for time ceased to be.  He kissed her shoulder and caressed.  Then he opened his eyes.  She remained on her back.  Her profile was stunning in the firelight; her dark golden hair spread about wildly on the sheets; breasts bared for him to see and touch; brown eyes looking toward the ceiling; graceful lashes sweeping up; red lips parted and swollen from all the pillaging he’d done.  He saw a streak of water reaching from the corner of her eye to her hair.  With a stab to his insides so sharp it burned, Graham realized it was a tear. 
She is crying?  No!  Please, no…