“I thought it last night. You are so small and I’m, well…” He glanced down and she followed the direction of his eyes.
“I noticed. Then and now.” Her mind went back to the night she had seen his nakedness as he lay at the foot of the cellar stairs. Even in its flaccid state, the size of his cock had imprinted itself on her memory. Now it was gloriously rampant and erect. Perhaps it was just as well she hadn’t seen him last night. If she had, she might have convinced herself that her body would not be able to accommodate anything so large.
“Don’t worry, lass. I will always make sure you are ready for me.”
She didn’t know what that meant, but she trusted him. He came to her, and Martha gasped as he parted her legs and bent his head between them. His lips brushed her intimately in a kiss as gentle as a sigh. There was nothing gentle, however, about the fiery-hot pain that stabbed at her core in response. His tongue was slow and lazy, sweeping over her in long strokes, pausing to flick her quivering bud until she was squirming wildly and clawing at the sheets, before resuming its leisurely exploration of the folds of her sex. He licked just inside her vagina, then drove his tongue deep inside her in a hard, stabbing movement. Before Martha had time to gasp out his name, he was doing it all over again. Within minutes a wild climax was crashing through Martha’s body. Her back arched off the mattress, and she cried out, clinging to Fraser’s shoulders and shaking all over.
Fraser kissed her breasts, transferring her own juices from his mouth to her flesh as he moved over her. He pushed her thighs wider with his hips as he positioned himself at her entrance. The return of his lips to hers brought her own essence to her on his breath and tongue, and she was amazed at the erotic thrill of it. He lifted her knees apart and pushed them back almost to her shoulders. Finding her open and slippery, he groaned as he shifted his hips and pressed his tip into her. She knew instinctively that he was trying to hold back, but she was so wet that he drove his whole shaft straight in. Long and hard and deep and wonderful.
She sensed him straining to go with more care than the passionate firestorm between them demanded. As her body bucked beneath him, he began thrusting in and out of her with such force that she cried out from both pleasure and exquisite torture. His cock slammed deep, and he fucked her hard so that their bodies bounced against the mattress, the springs squeaking, the headboard knocking. He picked up the pace even further, and Martha wrapped her legs around his waist, clenching her muscles in time with his thrusts to draw him as deep as she could. Whatever he could give her, she wanted more. His stubble rasped her soft flesh, his breath came in hot gasps and the muscles in his back tensed under her fingers. As he rammed himself wildly in and out of her, the exquisite friction heated her insides to the point where she felt she must be melting around him.
Fraser reached beneath her to grip her buttocks and lifted her so that he could open her further. A tormented groan escaped her. His thrusts became frantic in response, pushing them both further and harder, and she cried out incoherently, trying to tell him it was too much, but still not enough. His lips silenced her cries. He led her, drove her, guided her to ecstasy and claimed her, carrying her to that warm, delicious state in which every cell in her body sizzled and her internal muscles spasmed around him before finally relaxing in submission.
Fraser cried out with his own release, pulling out of her and dropping heavily onto her, kissing her forehead. Martha tried to speak, to catch her breath, but she couldn’t. When he had recovered his own breath, he moved his weight to her side.
“Stay here with me tonight,” he whispered, drawing her close against the comforting warmth of his body.
Chapter Ten
Martha normally woke at dawn, but the sun was much higher in the sky when she opened her eyes and took a moment to let the memory of the previous night wash over her. She was naked. A large, warm body was pressed up against her. A muscular arm was draped over her, the reddish-gold hairs catching the sunlight. One hand lightly claimed her breast.
Fraser had awoken her once in the night and made love to her again. Gone had been the hurried actions of their previous times. He had slipped into her from behind as she lay on her side, stroking her clitoris while pumping slowly and rhythmically against her buttocks until she was begging him for more, for harder, for faster. He was already awake, and the smile in his eyes as she turned to face him took her breath away.
“Good morning, crabbit one.” His teeth were sharp against her neck, and she with pleasure squirmed in his embrace.
“I never knew.” She watched his hand in fascination as he teased her nipple into a hardened peak.
“What did you not know?”
“That women could enjoy it,” she said, with a blush. “As a girl, I was told I must never let a man have his wicked way with me. That it must be tolerated and only then within the marriage bed.”
He lifted her face up to his, laughing in delight at her embarrassed expression. “No-one told you it would be your own wicked way too?” He took her hand and moved it down, wrapping her fingers around the thick girth of his shaft. “Yes, like you did when you seduced me in the priest hole. Up and down. Slowly.”
She nodded, moving her hand in time to the pace he had set. “So I thought it was only men who wanted it—” she gasped as he bent his head and bit her nipple, “—but I want you as much as you want me. And that is a revelation to me.” She looked down at his cock, observing the way it pulsed and grew in her hand. The sight of it sent a thrill of lust shimmering straight to an answering point in her own body.
“Faster now.” He covered her hand with his and increased the tempo.
“You must have bedded so many women.”
“No. Only one other woman before you, lass. And that one was my wife.”
He lifted her on top of him and, with his cock standing straight up from his body like a thick, proud flagpole, raised his hips and pushed himself up and into her.
Martha lay in Fraser’s arms and watched the dimming flames of the fire. The charred black wood splintered and broke apart as orange-red embers mingled with ash before swirling up through the brick chimney in a wave of smoke. Fraser’s lips brushed her neck and shoulders. After searing her body with passion, he was tender and sweet, so that every moment she spent in his arms was dreamlike. She loved holding and touching him and sleeping wrapped in his warmth after loving him, their body heat sealing their intimacy. Fraser told her he needed to feel her body against his. He wanted her close all the time.
He would wake her in the night with gentle kisses and whisper to her. Oh, the things he would say! Words about how good she felt around him, how hard she made him, what he wanted to do to her, how he could tell what she liked and which bits of her he wanted to taste, suck and lick next. Never in her life had she thought to hear a man express such wanting to her. Then, after he had taken her and driven her to a point just past ecstasy, he would hold her again and watch her face until she slept. But sometimes, just as slumber claimed her, she would see it again. That odd, unfathomable expression that troubled her.
Then Martha would wake as dawn touched the sky with wintry fingers, and it would be her turn to watch his face. When she did, she was pleased to see that Fraser slept deeply, with a smile of contentment on his beautiful lips.
“Will you tell me about your wife?” she asked tentatively one morning, when he opened his eyes.