Grace had gone to her marriage bed with a heart full of fear and dread. Her sister's words from the night before echoed in her head, "Just lie there and let Oliver have his way with you. It will only hurt a little. You'll get used to it."

Grace did as her sister said: she laid down, shut her eyes tightly and held her breath. Oliver took one look at her and laughed good naturedly, "Grace, what are you doing?"

"I'm ready for you," she braced herself.

He sat down next to her on the edge of the bed, "Darling, if that is the kind of relationship that you want, I will respect your wishes, but it doesn't have to be this way. I do not want to use your body. I want to make love with you."

"Is it going to hurt?" she looked down sheepishly.

"A woman's first time can be painful," he sighed, wishing that he could offer another answer. "But I promise that I will be very gentle. We will go slowly and we can stop whenever you need to. I want this to be an enjoyable night for us both." True to his word, he took his time and while Grace did experience some fleeting pain, she also discovered a new world of ecstasy.

Grace was so grateful that she had never succumbed to the awkward fumbling advances of suitors from her youth. Waiting had been so difficult, but she had been richly rewarded. Oliver was an experienced lover, who understood her body better than she did. He took her pleasure as his responsibility, always making sure that she was satisfied. He intuitively knew where she wanted to be touched, when to speed up and when to slow it way down. She loved him completely: his smell, a mixture of expensive cologne and cigars, and the contrast of his strong masculine body against her slight frame, the weight of him when he was on top of her, the sound of his voice calling out her name. She felt honored that of all the women that Oliver could have, he had chosen her. Their intimate life enhanced the trust and respect that they had shared for years. When they united as one, she felt like she was sneaking a glimpse of the divine. She could feel the sacred energy coursing through her as she reached her peak. There was nothing between the two lovers: no secrets, no barriers. They were able to lay bare their souls to one another and share themselves fully. Grace opened herself to him like a flower, both physically and spiritually. It frightened her sometimes how much she needed him. In a short period of time, she had grown so reliant on the release he gave her. She felt like a slave to her desires and only he could set her free.

A few nights after the wedding, as they were coming down from their high, Grace was so awash in pleasure and eager to return Oliver's generosity in the bedroom. She begged her husband, "Darling, tell me how I can please you. I want to make you feel as good as you have made me feel."

"Grace, you have given me so much already. I cannot possibly ask for more," he smiled.

"Tell me what you like," she implored.

Oliver hesitated, "Well, there is one thing that I would like..."

"Anything."

"I would like it if you would pleasure me with your mouth..."

Grace frowned. She wanted nothing more than to fulfill Oliver's fantasies, but she had always considered that to be a vulgar act. It was not something that she imagined that a proper lady would do. Would he still respect her if she did it?

Oliver noticed her reaction, "Forget I mentioned it."

"No. Oliver. I'm just not sure..."

"Grace, I will never ask you to do something that makes you uncomfortable. You have made me a very happy man," he reassured her.

"Give me some time to think about it..." her sultry voice trailed off.

"You have all of the time in the world. I do not expect anything," he kissed her forehead gently.

To be continued…