Surrender Your Grace
patch of hair at the apex of her thighs.
    “And this velvety soft area between your legs is mine as well; to touch, to tease and yes, even to lick and to taste. You belong to me now Cecilia and I plan to take full advantage of your charms. I will have you often and possess your body until it learns to crave mine. I promise.” He pressed warm wet kisses against her soft belly and pubis.
    “And are you mine also, Andrew?”
    “Absolutely, I am not only your husband, but your lord and master, your protector, mentor, and guide. And soon, very soon, I will be your lover. Now along that path, I want you to spread your legs for me, so I may claim what is mine.”
    She parted her thighs as ordered, but not enough to his liking. “Wider, my sweet bride, I have to be able to lie fully between your soft thighs in order to take your virginity.”
    “Oh Andrew, the things you say are frightfully lurid.”
    “Does it make you feel wanton and naughty?”
    “I fear so, husband.”
    “Excellent, then I am doing my job.” Rising to his knees, he wrapped his big hands around her thighs and spread her legs. “I want your legs this far apart.”
    She squealed in alarm as he separated her thighs and bared her most private of places. What he did next was shockingly intimate. He bent at the waist and lowered his mouth to her moist and fragrant center and licked her. “You taste better than Cook’s honey almond cake. Every time I taste honey from now on I’ll think of your sweet, sweet muff.”
    “Andrew!” Shocked at his vulgarity, she couldn’t help but be rendered speechless.
    “What would you rather I call this - your woman’s parts? Surely not, it's too clinical and impersonal to reference such a beautiful part of your body. I can’t imagine saying woman’s parts while rife with passion. How about quivering quim? No?” He looked up at her from between her thighs and grinned wickedly teasing her and making the bed play fun and lightening the mood. “What about the charming Miss Laycock?” A giggle escaped so he pressed onward. “Or my fruitful vine? Then there’s always my cock’s alley?”
    “Oh Andrew,” she gasped and a full throated laugh escaped. “You are incorrigible.”
    “I am that.” Suddenly, he smiled wickedly as he recalled a rather ribald comment made recently by a friend. “I heard the perfect reference the other day. Some call this little piece of heaven “the old hat”.”
    “What?”
    “Yes dear, the old hat… which is frequently felt.” He dove back between her legs and soon her laughter turned into a beautiful melody of ‘oo’s’ and ‘ah’s’ and ‘oh Andrew’s.’ He was convinced that it was now his favorite song.
    Andrew worked diligently, tasting and lapping at her moist heat. “I could just call it what we men call it in private - sweet, sweet pussy. Because when I stroke it, you purr just like a kitten.” He then took a finger and carefully inserted it, testing her capacity.
    Although expecting it to eventually happen, she stiffened at the foreign invasion into her body. “Easy, now, I am just preparing you to take me inside.” Gliding his finger in and out of her slick sheath, his own tension eased as he saw her body relax into the motion. “Does that give you pleasure?”
    “Yes Andrew, more pleasure than I ever thought possible.”
    Adding another finger, he pressed in deeper, but slowly. She was tight and when he bumped into the proof of her innocence, it nearly unmanned him. “I am going to take you now. I’ll be gentle, but you will still feel a pinch, or maybe a sharp pain. After this first time there will only be pleasure.” As he aligned their hips, he pressed his hard length against her opening then glanced up at her beautiful face. He noticed it was tight with anxiety and she had her eyes closed tightly once again, as if waiting for the guillotine blade to fall. Dipping just inside her, he settled himself than pressed his face close to hers and teased.

Similar Books

Out of the Dust

Karen Hesse

Just Desserts

Tricia Quinnies

Taken by Unicorns

Leandra J. Piper

Racing the Devil

Jaden Terrell

City of Fae

Pippa DaCosta

Stereotype

Claire Hennessy