His hand trembled. He looked at her soft flesh, knew he wanted to taste her, but also realized in that moment that it would probably shock her, and the last thing he wanted to do now was make her retreat from him. He couldn’t have borne that.
He closed his eyes, refusing to look at that thin body that was quivering for him, just for him. His mouth closed over her nipple and she lurched up, giving him more of herself, and her hands were wild on his back, his shoulders, his buttocks. She was encouraging him, not really knowing how to, and her ignorance was more exciting than any woman of more experience he’d ever enjoyed. His mouth was on her belly, then lower, and he didn’t care if she was shocked, or frightened, he had to taste her, explore her, feel all of her with his fingers, with his mouth.
He pulled her legs wide apart, settling himself between them. He didn’t want to look at her, but he had to, drawing her apart with his fingers, and then he caressed her with his fingers, his mouth.
She was stiff and still. Then, suddenly, she screamed with the power of it.
Quickly, he slammed his hand over her mouth, still fondling her as he did so, and she was twisting her head, nearly beside herself now, and he knew he couldn’t wait another instant, another minute, for he would spill his seed on her belly, and by all the gods, he wanted to be deep inside her, have her holding him within her when he reached his release.
He shoved hard into her. He felt the tearing pain, for it was difficult to get into her, she was small, her flesh loosening and dampening, but it wasn’t enough, and he’d known she wasn’t completely ready for him, but he didn’t stop, just kept pushing harder and harder still, until finally, with a deep groan, he burst through her maidenhead. He lowered his mouth over her just in time to catch her cry of pain, for he knew that if Erik heard her cry of pain he would know it had all been a pretense, at least until this night, until this moment. Merrik filled her with himself, touching her womb, pausing just a moment, because the power of it was making him shake and moan. He wanted to pull back, to caress her again with his mouth, but he knew he couldn’t. He moaned, tensing, lurching more deeply into her. He pulled back, then drove forward, then once again. It took no more than that, just one final time and he felt his seed hot against her womb.
His heart was pounding madly, and he wondered if he was going to die with the impact of the release he’d just had. He thought to pull out of her, for he knew he was still causing her pain, but her arms closed tightly around his back and she held him tightly against her. He pulled her onto her side, facing him, still inside her, though not so deep now, but it didn’t matter, he could feel the beating of her heart, the heat of her. He kissed her slack mouth, stroked her eyebrows, and smoothed her hair from her forehead. “I’m sorry for your pain,” he said against her mouth. “It was your maidenhead. I had to get through it.”
“You did,” she said. “You did.”
He’d not given her much pleasure, he thought, but there’d been some, before he’d come so urgently and deeply into her, and lost his reason. “Now, you have had me, Laren, but you didn’t find the pleasure in our coupling that I did, and I am sorry for it. If there is to be no more between us after this night, then I must take you again, after you’ve rested, and show you what it is like between a man and a woman.”
She said nothing. She was held tightly against him, and he wasn’t inside her now, but he was so close, the scent of his warm flesh against her mouth, and she said, “I would like that except I hurt very badly, Merrik. And I’m bleeding. Will it all stop soon?”
He said nothing, merely pulled away from her, rose from the bed, and left the chamber, uncaring that he was naked.
It didn’t matter in any case, for only a soft haze of smoke lit the outer room and no one was awake. He fetched an oil lamp and brought it back into the sleeping chamber.
He cursed as he held the lamp close to look at her, then said, “Hold still. I will see how badly I hurt you.”
He looked up into her face then and saw not only her pain there, but confusion as well. Her blue-gray eyes looking nearly black in the light. There was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. He said more sharply than he liked, “Don’t look so lost. You will be all right, mating doesn’t kill a woman, Laren, and it certainly won’t hurt you the next time.”
“This is something I wanted so very much, a mystery I wanted more than anything to solve with you—aye, and I solved it—but the solution to it is not what I expected. I know all this bleeding doesn’t mean I will die, for you wouldn’t slake your passion if you knew it could kill me. But it does hurt a lot more than I would like, and that is a surprise and a disappointment.”
That was straight speaking, he thought, silent for the moment. The blood was trickling down her thighs, the flow slowed now, but she couldn’t know that, and it was pooling on the blanket beneath her. He looked down at himself for just an instant, and saw her blood there, her blood and his seed. He drew a deep breath, and said, “It isn’t bad. Now, hold still.” She felt the wet of a soft cloth against her, cleaning her. Then he pressed the cloth firmly against her.
She looked away from him, from the intent look on his face as he tended to her. She had no idea what he was thinking, what he was feeling. She said, “I felt such strange things when you looked at me, when you touched me. When you kissed me, when I felt your tongue in my mouth, and on my body, I felt as if a small part of the world would be mine and everything would be well and good.” Suddenly she gasped and tried to pull away from him. He flattened his palm on her belly, holding her still.
“Don’t move,” he said, and wrapped the wet cloth more securely around his finger and eased it again into her to see if he’d rent her. “No, keep still, don’t tighten your body so. Try to let yourself ease. I’ll be through soon.”
She was silent, stiff, and he knew he was hurting her, but he tried, by all the gods, he tried to be gentle. He wished his damned finger were smaller, but it wasn’t.
He eased his finger out of her, relieved that the flow of blood was nearly stopped, then rinsed out the cloth. He sat beside her on the bed, folded the cloth, then pressed it against her and held it there. He looked up at her face. She was pale, her eyes swollen from crying, her hair tangled about her face.
She’d wanted him; she’d offered herself to him.
And he’d done his best, surely he had, but still, he’d come into her before he’d brought her to a woman’s pleasure. He remembered her scream when he’d closed his mouth over her. By all the gods, to make a woman feel like this. He shuddered with the power that memory brought him. He said, “You will be all right. I do not think I would come inside you again this night. But again, Laren, perhaps tomorrow or the next day when you’re healed again.”
She opened her eyes, and looked at him, never once letting her eyes fall below his face.
He said again, “I’m sorry.”
“Why would you be sorry? I was the one who demanded that you do those things to me. You have been naught but honorable and kind to me. You did nothing that any other man does not do. It is my fault. I have nothing to cover me and I feel ashamed, for I am ugly and bony and I know it and I don’t wish to have you staring at me. Could you cover me, Merrik?”
He covered her and his hand as well, for he still kept the cloth pressed firmly against her.
“You’re not ugly,” he said. “Stop saying that you are.”
She smiled at him. She raised her hand to touch his face, then dropped it.
He wished she had touched him, was still touching him. “There,” he said, looking away, “the bleeding has stopped. Do you still hurt?”
Sh