Chapter 4

Dangled helplessly over his shoulder, Maria could do nothing but watch the upside-down room slide by, as he strode into the bedroom and tossed her on the bed with a little bounce. The sun had not yet reached into the cozy little room, which held only a faint golden glow and left the air damp and cool.

He sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed a handful of her nightgown. "The first order of business is to get rid of this – this abomination," he directed with a distasteful scowl. But her fingers had barely found the first button when he pushed her hands away, and with one mighty tug, he tore the worn flannel open all the way down to the hem.

"Georg!"

"I despise this thing," he said, turning her this way and that with great efficiency, until he was able to pull the torn garment away from her and throw it on the floor. "You are not a cowering governess anymore, and I don't want you dressing like one. You have a beautiful body, and there's no need to hide it, not from me. What you're wearing now is all you need."

"But I'm not wearing anything!"

"Exactly!" he smirked. "Now don't go anywhere," and he stood and turned away from her to undress, leaving only the tickle of cool air against her bare skin and a little thrill of anticipation.

Georg felt a last flicker of misgiving. Had he done the right thing, forcing her to relive the loss of her innocence? She had yielded to his demand for the truth, and now he owed her something in return: reassurance, and confidence, and knowledge of the boundless pleasure her body could give her. That he could give her. He would imprint himself onto Maria, sealing her to him, until no trace remained of the poncey fairy-prince – whatever his name was.

He took his time with her, lavishing attention on every inch of her skin – the soles of her feet, the small of her back, the inside of her elbow, the tip of her nose. The gentlest of caresses with a fingertip, the lightest of kisses with his mouth, the barest touch of his tongue, until he had her squirming, until her soft sighs told him she was relaxed and eager for more. Only then did he ease her onto her back, push her knees apart with his shoulders, and begin to kiss his way up the inside of one silken-skinned leg. But then she surprised him.

"No, Georg, please-"

He lifted up on his elbows so he could see her face, beautifully flushed with desire. "But darling, you loved it when I kissed you here. This beautiful place." He grazed his fingers between her legs and was rewarded with a soft little gasp.

"Oh! Yes! But I want us to try it again."

"It?" he prompted.

A moment of hesitation. "M-making love."

"I thought that's what I was doing," he smiled.

"You know what I mean. Please."

It was only a matter of hours since they had last been together in this bed, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. This was a second chance to start again, and he wanted it to be –

"Let's take our time, love, don't you think?"

"No, I don't," she insisted, tugging him upward by his hair.

Maria, making demands of him: that was all it took to make him harder than stone. He crawled back up her body, lingering for a few minutes to kiss her sweet breasts, shaping them with his hands, sucking one pink nipple into his mouth while his fingers gently squeezed the other, relishing her low whimper and the way she thrashed about beneath him.

She was extraordinarily responsive, he thought. His blood ran thick with desire, until it was a struggle to restrain his natural impulses, which screamed at him to take her without delay. But he knew, better than most men might, that the best remedy for Maria's lingering fears was to give her control, and he intended to try and do that.

"Let me see if I can make this easier for you," he murmured, stretching out next to her on his back, and reaching to pull her toward him. "Come over here." She collapsed awkwardly on top of him, and he had to stop her nervous giggles with a forceful kiss, but then she quickly got the idea of it, fitting herself to him at knee and belly until he could feel her straining against him, open and hot and wet.

He gave her a moment to try and arrange things herself, but when she gave a little cry of frustration, he slid his hands down until he could grip her bottom, lifted her into position, and pulled her down onto him, as carefully as he could manage. He watched as her eyes closed and her face tightened briefly before going slack with pleasure, until her soft moan told him what he needed to know: the lingering memories of her past had given way to passion. She was his, and she felt like heaven.

Maria tensed briefly against the invasion, but quickly relaxed into the exquisite sensation: no pain, no fear, only a pillar of heat that filled her and sent fire racing through her veins.

"All right? Maria?" came his hoarse whisper. "Open your eyes for me." Her eyes flew open to see his face, dark with passion, his midnight eyes fixed on hers. When she managed to nod her assent, his voice grew stronger and more demanding. "All right, then, darling. Hold on."

Hold on?

She did as she was told, though, because Georg was already moving, clasping her to his chest and smoothly levering himself to a sitting position, leaving her legs draped on either side of his. He was rooted even more deeply within her now, and the feeling was -

"Steady. Breathe with me, love. Together." he whispered.

He began to rock against her sensitive flesh. Every inch of her skin clamored for his touch, and it seemed she could not get close enough to him to satisfy the frantic craving that blossomed between her legs and spread everywhere. She wrapped herself around him, arms and legs, a lush vine to his tree, and fed greedily on his kisses, stopping only to press her lips to the column of his throat, to feel the pulse thunder there.

Still, he kept up the slow, deliberate rhythm, and Maria could feel herself opening up to him, while his hands found her breasts and played there with gentle pinches, before skimming over her belly, stopping just short of the place where she ached for his touch.

"Look down. Look at us," he demanded.

She felt her cheeks turn hot with shameful excitement when she saw the place they were joined. The amazing sight made her feel wicked and wildly aroused.

"Georg," she panted. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please-"

"Let me guess. Do you want me to touch you? Like this?" his fingers brushed against her, a whisper-soft touch that wasn't enough, "or like this?" A thumb pressed firmly in just the right place-

"Yes," she sobbed.

"What else do you want?" he asked in a silky voice. "You need to learn to ask."

"I want you to – to tell me."

"Ah. I thought so. You like to hear me talk about it, don't you, love? Do you want me to tell you how feel around me, so tight, so perfect? Or about how your body was made for me? For me. For this. You're mine now, do you know that?"

"Yes. Yours."

Georg rested his forehead against hers, hauling in a deep breath, but he didn't stop moving against and within her, until her whole body thrummed with bliss.

"I need you. All of you. And you need me, don't you, Maria? You love this, don't you? You need it. Because-"

"Tell me-" she gasped.

Each rasping word was delivered with another frenzied thrust.

"I - fill - you - up!"

His words were a sharp, savage stab of pleasure that tore into her, rolling through her in wave after perfect, nearly unbearable wave, over and over again, until she screamed out a wordless plea. Begging for it to end. Wishing for it to go on forever.

It was his moment of triumph, when she came apart in his arms, convulsing around him repeatedly. But her high, keening cries had hardly faded away before he had her on her back. Every thought of taking care with her had vanished. Even though he knew he should give her time to recover, that he should coax her down from her peak with tender care, he could no more hold back than he could will his heart to stop beating.

"Maria!" He nearly grunted her name with the effort of keeping still.

"Hmm?" Her face was relaxed and dreamy.

"Maria, I - I don't think I can be gentle with you. If you want me to stop, I will, but if I keep going-"

"Oh, Georg, it was brilliant!" She hadn't yet caught her breath, and her voice was ragged and uneven. "But if that didn't break me, there's no need to go easy now." She wiggled experimentally beneath him.

He wanted to laugh, but it was difficult enough to speak at all. "You don't understand," he said with great difficulty. "That was gentle. If I keep going, it's going to be," he swallowed. "Rougher. There is something about you. About us, together. That drives me wild, and I need-"

Her blue eyes went wide, but she didn't hesitate.

"Then show me."

"Are you sure?"

"Show me. If it's what you need," her voice faltered, "then I want to give it to you. I want to know."

Georg closed his eyes against the nearly irresistible wave of lust that washed over him. "Put your legs up here. Around my waist," he choked out, and then he began to move.

He had never known anything like it. He was a force of nature now, a wild, untamed animal, a pagan, rutting god. It was like a dream, but this dream could go on and on for hours, a dream he wouldn't have to waken from. She inspired something fierce in him, something darker than his worst fears and brighter than any joy he'd ever known.

Maria strained upward, pushing against the hard, heavy slide of his body, feeling him sink deeper into her with every stroke, deeper than she could ever have imagined. She ran her hands over his back, all the hills and valleys and small dimples, his skin hot and slick with sweat. When her eyes sought his, there he was again, her Georg, the one she'd glimpsed last night: his beseeching gaze, his handsome face taut and vulnerable with need, his mouth contorted in the battle between finding and fighting off release.

He surged into her, again and again, taking them onward and upward, together. His rigid length within her seemed to pulse and thicken even more, but she understood now that he would never be too much for her, that her body would soften and open to him, until she found herself craving the next long, elegant sweep and glide of his body against her sensitive skin.

"More," she begged, though she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted more of, besides relief for the fire that sparked across her skin and raced through her blood.

"You want more?" His voice was a raw scrape. "Then brace yourself."

Brace yourself?

She started to say something, but his tongue had invaded her mouth in a relentless kiss. With one hand, he grabbed her wrists and clasped them firmly over her head, while the other arm slid beneath her bottom and held her there hard, tipped up against him. Once he had her secured, he thrust at her mercilessly, again and again, until the deliberate rhythm and any vestige of control were lost, as he threw back his head and began to shudder violently against her.

Georg had nearly nothing left to give her, but he managed to hold back the explosion until he could push her over the edge one more time. Until he heard her cry out his name. Until the climax slammed into him, in a rush so long and intense it forced the air from his lungs in a scream.

Until he was lost to her, and knew her lost to him as well.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

She traced his noble profile with her finger, the smooth brow, the relaxed mouth and drooping eyes, and she thought that in all the weeks and months she had known him, while she had seen him stern and angry, amused and happy, thoughtful and tender and passionate, she had never seen him so deeply content. At peace.

By now, every corner of the little room was saturated with lemon-yellow sun. The walls held a crisp autumn breeze that cooled their skins, and the sounds of sweet birdsong and the little creek rushing by outside. But what filled the room to overflowing was love, love enough to drive out any thought at all of the outside world: of seven children, of chaperones, of weddings, of ugly German threats. Everything they needed, everything they treasured, was in that room.

An hour later, when the sun was at its peak in the sky, he would make love to her again, but this time with an elegant grace and restrained heat that reminded her of their first dance in the garden. They would stay in that bed all day long, in fact, a day of joy and tenderness, of wildness and sweat and pleasure, a day of whispers and screams, of soft touches and quick couplings and long encounters, a day when he gave her whatever she wanted before she even knew what that was.

Sometime around dusk, hunger drove her to the kitchen to stock a tray, but he when he found her there, with her round bottom peeking temptingly from beneath his pajama shirt, he lifted her onto the table and teased her until she was frantic for him, and it was another hour, at least, until they managed a meal. They were amazed to find that night had come, swallowing them in darkness, the cold night air driving them into each other's arms once again.

When was the last time you felt complete,

so complete, nothing dared approach you?

Nothing like a yesterday, or a tomorrow.

Nothing that could speak.

Nothing that could ever point to something

that would ever need to be done.

Nothing that could not do anything,

but adore you. Adore you. Adore you.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Nothing Like a Yesterday, from the Persian poet Hafiz.

Don't own TSOM or anything about it, it's all for love.

Thank you for reading my story. If you want to see more, then please leave me a review, because as Georg would say, how am I supposed to know what you like unless you tell me?