The King's Spinster Bride, (Royal Wedding #1)(22)
Perhaps I’m going too slow to please my bride. I want to take my time to ensure that she is comfortable, but perhaps I should push things further. I slide a hand up her graceful calf and push her skirts back until her legs are revealed all the way up to the knee. She says nothing, but the pink flush brightens on her cheeks. She reaches down and gathers the skirts in her hands…and then slowly pulls them higher, revealing white thighs and a tantalizing glimpse of pantaloons that ruffle just below her hips.
It feels like an invitation. And when she bites her lip and gives me an anxious look, I know it is one.
I press forward and graze my mouth over her ankle again, then begin to work my way slowly upward, just as I did with my arm. She’s trembling, but the soft rasp of her breath tells me that it’s excitement more than fear. I kiss her calf, then her knee, and then move up to the creamy flesh of her thigh. At this point, she gives a little whimper in her throat, and shifts on the bedding.
I kiss higher, caressing her hands before I push her skirts even further up her thighs. Her pantaloons are fully revealed to me and she squirms under my gaze, restless as I stare down at her. “You’re beautiful,” I murmur, keeping my voice low so it feels as if we are the only two in the room. I know Pen and Ishera will be as quiet as possible, but I want Halla to forget that they’re there. I want her to focus on me and only me. “May I take these off?”
And I lean in and bite the ruffle gracing the edge of one pantaloon leg.
Halla’s lips part, and she gives a shuddering breath. “I…should I get undressed all the way?”
“Do you want to?”
She hesitates. “I don’t know.” Her gaze flicks to the women at the edge of the room.
“I can pleasure you under your skirts, too, you know.” I give her my cockiest grin, as if my own heart is not pounding as loud as a blacksmith’s hammer. “No one will see your beauty but me. Perhaps we’ll save the rest for tomorrow night, yes?”
She flushes prettily and bites her lip, then nods.
I smile at her, because she’s beyond beautiful, and then slide my hands up her thighs, all the way to the waistband of her pantaloons. Slowly, I edge them downward, revealing more pale skin and a gently rounded belly. The way she looked yesterday in the throne room has been burned into my mind, and I’m eager to see her naked once more. More than that, I’m eager to taste her. I’ve longed to put my mouth on her cunt for ages. I’ve dreamed of marrying her in the custom of my people, and in my dreams, she reacts with pleasure and is hungry for more. Thus far, the real Halla has surpassed every one of my dreams.
I cannot wait to see how this plays out in comparison.
I gently slide the fabric all the way down to her thighs, and the peep of the curls between her thighs is fully exposed to my gaze. Even here, she is delicate and feminine, and I cannot resist moving forward and pressing my mouth there in a kiss.
The breath rushes out of her, half gasp, half moan. One hand clenches against my shoulder and then falls away.
“You can touch me,” I tell her, grasping her hand and pulling it back against my skin. “Touch me all you want. I like it.”
“Mathior,” Halla whispers, and she caresses my jaw. Her eyes are soft. “Sometimes this feels as if I’m dreaming. Am I dreaming?”
“Let me show you how real this is,” I say, and then I rip her pantaloons away. I don’t care that I’m destroying delicate, embroidered fabric. I want her naked and under my tongue right now. I’ve hungered for this for far too long. I push her thighs apart and then my mouth is on her.
She cries out, her hands going to my head. A second later, she twists her fingers in my hair and her hips buck up against my face. I grip one of her hips to hold her as she writhes, and keep my mouth on her flesh. The seam of her cunt is incredibly wet, and I drag my tongue over it, determined to take my time and learn her.
And with that lick, I get my first taste of my woman. It’s musky and intense and my mouth waters, hungry for more. She’s perfect, even here, and I give her another deep lick, pushing apart her folds with my tongue and burrowing deeper into her sweetness. I learn her with the tip of my tongue, tracing the layers of her cunt and learning which touches she likes. When I come to the nub of her clit, the breath explodes from her body. “Mathior!”
“I have you,” I tell her between urgent licks. I don’t want to let her go. Being here, my face cradled by her thighs as I nuzzle and lick the most intimate part of her? I could stay here forever, lapping at her cunt and enjoying every tremor that rocks through her body. “Let me taste you, Halla. Let me taste all of you.”
She whimpers, and her hips quiver in my grip. Her hands tighten in my hair, but I ignore it, because when I lick her clit, her body gives a little jerk and she gasps. I want more of those little gasps. So I circle her clit with my tongue, then lick it directly. Halla arches up against me, and so I do it again, and again. She’s responding, but I have not yet made her come.
And I want to make her come, very much. I will not be worthy of being her husband if I do not give her pleasure.
I flick my tongue against the underside of her clit, then experiment with the pace of my licking, watching her responses. She shudders when I suck and press directly against her clit, but she makes sweet sounds of pleasure when I rub near it, but not quite touch. Fascinating. I focus in on rubbing around her clit instead of on it directly, and when she moans, I grip her thighs a little tighter, my own excitement spurring me on. It takes everything I have not to grab her and frantically lick her to a climax, because she’s not like me. The quicker and rougher I touch her won’t make her come faster. So I continue to give her the teasing touches that she needs, my tongue dancing and flirting along the hood of her clit and never quite touching it.