The King's Spinster Bride, (Royal Wedding #1)(31)
“If you like.” He didn’t wear it during the wedding, and while I was shocked at first, I enjoy seeing his face without anything to hide it. “But I think you are handsome either way.”
He grins and snags my hand, then presses a kiss to my palm. “I should wash this paint off. Would you like to help?”
My pulse flutters at the thought. I can feel myself growing shy…but at the same time, I do want to touch him. “I think I would.”
Mathior slides a hand down my back and then cups my ass briefly before releasing me. “Then come and let us get started.”
I let him lead me over to the wash-basin and towels that have been left behind by the servants. Before I can ask if he wants me to undress him, Mathior shucks his boots and strips off his leggings. Utterly silent—and more than a little shocked—I watch as he gets completely naked within a matter of moments, and then I am staring at his bare backside. I’m not surprised to see that he’s less tanned in the places that do not see sunlight, but I am a little startled at how much I’m affected by the sight of his tight backside.
I saw this the other day, of course, when we were in the great hall. But we were not alone, then, and I did not have the leisure to touch. And I want to touch him very much. I move forward and slide a hand down his bare back.
He groans and stiffens as I caress him. I half-expect Mathior to tell me to stop or to push my hand away because I’m distracting him. Instead, he dunks the towel into the basin and then holds the dripping thing out to me.
Oh.
I take it and tentatively slide the towel over one brawny arm. Water droplets, now pink from the running paint, sluice down his skin and I’m fascinated at the sight of them. I let the towel trail over his bicep, slowly moving it up one shoulder and then across his back. His long hair is getting in the way, so I wrap it around my hand and lift it, then glide the towel further.
Mathior groans. “I’m not sure if this is a bath or a tease.”
“Can it be both?”
“Obviously.” He casts a grin over his shoulder at me and he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
I swipe the towel over his shoulders one more time and then release his hair, watching it spill down his damp skin with a dreamy sigh. Mathior turns and holds out his other arm, and I run the cloth over it, too. My cheeks pink when I realize he’s not looking at what I’m doing, but at me instead. I feel beautiful and sexy and truly seen. I move the towel over his muscles, fascinated by him. I’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before—in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a shirt on—but to be able to touch him like this changes everything.
He turns slightly and then he’s facing me, and as I slide the wet towel forward over his chest and on the axe symbol, I glance down. I was too shy to look at him in the great hall at the revealing ceremony, not with everyone calling out at us. But now I can look my fill.
His cock is…enormous. It’s hard and erect with need, a gleaming droplet poised on the tip. His skin is flushed a darker color here, and a faint, dark trail on his belly leads down to black curls that frame his erection and the sac underneath. A large vein traces down his length, and I itch to touch it and explore it with my mouth. Just the thought makes me feel flushed and breathless, and I glance up at my new husband to see if he feels the same.
“Touch me,” he demands, voice low and husky. A shiver of excitement moves through me and I don’t protest when he snags the towel out of my hand and tosses it aside. All I care about is touching him, learning his body.
I let my fingertips graze over the head of his cock, and I’m surprised at how scorchingly hot his skin is…and how soft. It feels like silk over iron as I drift my way down his length with small touches, caressing and exploring. Mathior holds himself very still as I caress his length. It’s like he doesn’t want to interrupt or distract me. I encircle his girth with my fingers and they don’t touch. I’m surprised at how thick he is. I knew he was long, but the cock I’m touching seems very different from the one I saw in the great hall two days ago at the revealing. “You’re much larger today.”
The breath huffs out of him in a laugh. “The entire world is not staring at my cock to judge it. I only need to impress you.” The backs of his fingers graze my cheek. “What do you think?”
“I like it,” I tell him softly. “But I am not entirely certain that the two of us will fit together. Are cyclops warriors built differently than Yshremi men?”
“They kept you far too sheltered at that temple,” Mathior says, amused. He steps forward, thrusting his length further into my grip, and then he grabs me by the ornate braid hanging down my back and tilts my head until I’m gazing up at him. “In a way, I’m glad. It means you’re completely mine.”
“Yours and only yours,” I whisper back, and he kisses me.
Our hungry mouths meet and his tongue teases mine, the kisses growing deeper and more frantic the longer we touch. I can’t help but stroke the thick length of him with my hand, and when he groans into my mouth, it makes me bolder and I want to do it again. I rub his cock once more, eager to pleasure him.
He pulls away from my lips at the same time he removes my hand, and I let out a whimper of protest. “I want you undressed,” Mathior tells me, and tugs at the laces of my gown. The dress I wore for my wedding was a mixture of my world and his. My gown was made of the same pale lavender that symbolizes Yshrem, with laces up each side to hug my figure. The long bell sleeves and skirt are trimmed with white fur that matches Mathior’s cloak, as does the wide fur collar that skims my shoulders and leaves them bare. It’s a beautiful gown, I note absently, and now we’ve ruined it with red paint splashes and water. I don’t care. I’m allowed to touch my husband—my king.