UNBEARABLE BLISS
The door had barely closed behind them when Georg was on her, kissing her forcefully while his body urged her toward the bedroom. When she didn't move fast enough for him, he simply lifted her off the floor and kept moving across the salon, one arm firmly around her waist while the other made short work of the buttons on her blouse. His mouth left hers to travel down her neck.
"Georg! Hold on!" Laughing, she wriggled from his grasp. "What exactly is your rush?"
She thought his gaze might burn a hole straight through her. "I don't really need to tell you that, Maria, do I?"
Maria hopped up onto a nearby ottoman, so that she loomed over him. Lifting her chin, squaring her shoulders and narrowing her eyes, she declared in a dark, dangerous voice, "Stop rushing, darling. It will be even better if we take things slowly. The pleasure is in the journey, Maria darling, not only the destination."
Had he not been so focused on getting her onto the bed, he would have paused to savor the moment: Maria was a gifted mimic who was doing a more than passable job of imitating him, even with her clothing in disarray and the curves of her breasts on display. But he wasn't going to let her distract him. His arms circled her hips as he lifted her from the ottoman, her head still high above his.
"In this case, we're taking a shortcut to our destination," he declared, and then his lips found the place where he had opened her blouse as he hastened them into the bedroom. Only then did he slowly let her slide downward along his body until his mouth met hers.
His kisses left her dizzy with longing. She ran her hands beneath his jacket and spread her hands across his chest, feeling the heat of his body through his clothes. When she began to loosen his tie, though, he gently set her down on the ground and stepped away.
"I'll take care of that, love. You first."
"Let me," she started to object – why did he always seem to redirect attention away from himself and toward her? But she was quickly distracted by the gentle tugging as he removed every stitch of her clothing and lifted her onto the bed.
His eyes slowly drank in every inch of her as he brushed his fingers across her mouth, past her breasts and down her belly before he pushed her knees apart. "Stay right there," he directed, "just like this." He didn't take his eyes from her as he undressed quickly and joined her on the bed.
Georg could feel the tension coiled in her body. "You aren't nervous, are you, Maria?"
"I'm not nervous, I'm…" Modesty might have left her tongue tied, but the look she gave him from beneath her lashes was pure blue fire.
"Tell me," he coaxed. "You need to learn to tell me what you want."
"You, Georg. I want you. I need you." He always dazzled her, the way he spoke about their passion, but Maria couldn't think of another way to tell him what she wanted. She felt herself blush everywhere. Sometimes, she hated being such an innocent. He must find it so tiresome, having to anticipate and understand desires she barely understood herself. "Go ahead, darling, do your worst," she said, trying to sound brazenly assured.
"I intend to do my best," he whispered, and then he was kissing her everywhere, her mouth, her neck, her breasts, her belly. He could feel her tremble with anticipation under his touch, and he reached upward and grabbed hold of her hands, anchoring her firmly before him.
He didn't say anything after that, he didn't need to, and she wouldn't have heard him anyway , over the thunder of her own heartbeat in her ears. His hands gripped hers reassuringly. She felt the rumble of his murmur against her belly, the scrape of his chin on the tender skin of her legs, and the puff of his breath against her, before he touched her gently with his tongue.
Almost instantly, she found herself pulling free from his grasp, away from sensations too exquisite to bear. If she'd been able to draw a breath, she would have begged him to stop - except that she would surely die if he stopped. But then he curled his hands around her hips, holding her firmly in place, as he moved his mouth against her gently, deliberately, as though he was being careful not to give her more than she could bear. She bit down on her fist to stifle a scream. Within moments, the fierce tension spiraled higher and higher until it broke, wracking her with spasms of sweet, painful relief.
Her ferocious response had taken him by surprise. He'd barely been able to taste her when she lifted herself clear off the bed, and then she'd lasted perhaps only a minute before coming completely undone. But surprise quickly turned to elation. Once again, he marveled that behind her demure, innocent exterior, his bride was fearless, hungry, all fire and passion. He grinned at her little sob of disappointment. It had ended too quickly for both of them.
"Again?" he asked.
"Yes, oh, yes, please," Maria gasped.
"It would be my pleasure, but please, love. Take your hand away from your mouth. I'm going to make you scream twice as loud this time, and I want to hear you. Don't hold back."
He nudged her long legs over his shoulders and brought his mouth to her again, letting his tongue slide everywhere, leaving no part of her untouched. This second time was different: she no longer shrank from him, instead making it plain how much she craved what he had to give her. He delighted in the way she arched against his mouth, opening to him, holding nothing back. Her fingers locked in his hair and he heard her mutter incoherently at first, until her cries grew louder and filled the room. He pushed on, in search of her limits, relentlessly moving his lips over her again and again.
At least at first, she still found it hard to relax against the wet heat of that clever, supple mouth. Surely something so unimaginably wonderful, so perfect, couldn't possibly last as long as she wished it to. But he stayed with her, and gradually, she realized that he not only would give her everything she needed, but would show her a kind of ecstasy she could never have imagined. She turned toward the mirror, watching his dark head against her skin, just as it had been in the book, until the pleasure was too much to bear and she closed her eyes.
After that, Maria lost track of time, place, of everything except the sensations rushing by her as he sailed her to heaven through a sea of stars. And then, just when she was certain they could go no higher, he flew her straight into the sun.
Georg had let her rest only a moment when she opened her eyes to find him coming at her on all fours, his eyes glittering.
"I need to feel you around me this time, darling." He settled himself between her legs, but she turned listlessly away from him.
"I can't," she murmured. She lay sprawled on the bed, drained of energy, feeling so sluggish she could barely move her limbs.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, no. I just – I have nothing left to give you, I-"
"It's not only for me, Maria love. I want to give you more pleasure."
"I don't think I can stand any more pleasure," she argued, with a delectably distracting wriggle of her hips that made his breath catch in his throat. Perhaps she had some energy left for him after all.
Propping himself on one elbow, he skated his hand across her belly and between her legs. He caressed her there with gentle skill, curling a finger inside to find a place made of fire, and smiling when, despite herself, she gasped.
"You can't? Do you know how many times you've said that? 'I can't?' But then it always turns out you can, Maria. Because just as I would do anything to give you pleasure, so would you for me, isn't that right?" She could only moan her answer as he came into her.
He watched until her eyes met his, until he was sure she was with him, and then he began to move. His mind warned him to slow down, to make her third blissful climb long and languorous.
But the wild need inside his body blew by all the warnings, and he barely slowed until he felt her begin to break beneath him. Although beyond desperate for his own release, he kept her there, forcing the pleasure to continue until she was crying out from it. Only then did he allow himself to be swept away by the flood, to surrender himself to her.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
"Georg?"
"Mm?"
"How old were you the first time?"
He turned toward her, puzzled. She couldn't possibly mean what she seemed to mean, or could she? "The first time I what?"
She rolled her eyes. "This. You know."
"Maria, I hardly think…"
"You're always telling me not to hold anything back. Why do you get to hold things back from me? After all," she smirked, "you know all about my first time. And it's not like I don't already know about you."
"What exactly do you know?"
"That you were with a lot of women. Before you were married. I'm just curious."
He let out a big sigh and rolled onto his back, scanning the ceiling as though the answer were written there. "Sixteen," he said abruptly. "Going on seventeen. Does that shock you?"
"Who was she?"
"Maria, I fail to see…"
"Who was she?"
He sighed. "I spent the summers at my grandparents' farm. On Brioni. It was an older girl, from the village. I didn't know what I was doing, but she did." He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. "And then the next summer, there was a housemaid."
"A housemaid?" Maria was scandalized.
"She must have been ten years older than me. I was hardly taking advantage of her," he said defensively. "More like the other way around. The next summer, there was an American girl. For a few years, over the winter holidays, there was a friend of my sister's from university. And then, once I was in the Navy, of course, I was visiting other countries where – ehrm -"
By now, he was starting to sound entirely too comfortable, even enthusiastic, about the topic. "There was an opera singer in Italy. And a Swedish princess."
"A princess, did you say?" Maria said, trying determinedly to sound blasé . "And here I am only a Baroness."
"In India," he continued, "I met these sisters. There is a dance that they do…"
"All right, all right," she said, "you've made your point. I only asked about the first time, you know, there was no need to go any farther."
But he was unrelenting. "The one I really can't get out of my mind, though? Like a magnificent wild animal. Strong. Untamed. A will of her own. But all woman. Skin softer than a baby's, and in the places the sun's never touched, as white as snow. Thick golden hair. A mouth made for love. And so responsive. Touch her the right way and you hear the cry of angels."
"Georg!" It really wasn't funny anymore.
He rolled over, lying half on top of her, and tucked his mouth against her ear. "She had," he whispered, "this freckle behind her left knee – kiss it, and the most remarkable thing, you really wouldn't believe it..."
"Oh!" She laughed. "Right knee, actually. Your left. My right."
"Maria," he said, pulling her back into his arms and tucking her head against his shoulder. "Why did you ask me?
"Just curious, I suppose."
"You don't think less of me, I hope."
"No," she said practically. "It was a long time ago. I'm sure God has forgiven so many millions of sins since then, he's forgotten all about yours."
"Or maybe," Georg suggested, "you wish you'd had a chance to sow a few wild oats of your own. I often regret having whisked you out of the Abbey and straight into married life and motherhood. You never had a chance to have any fun."
"Oh, no," she shuddered. "I'm certain I wouldn't want that kind of fun for myself. I can't imagine doing this with anyone else," and she felt her cheeks turn hot. Trying to reclaim a sophisticated air, she added, "I'm lucky. I get to reap the benefits of all your experience."
He blinked. This whole line of questioning made him very uneasy, but on the other hand, there was something vaguely stirring about Maria's frank interest in his adventures. "I'm glad you feel that way. At least I think I'm glad."
"Yes," she said airily, "I still haven't got those garters figured out, but it doesn't matter, because you've got them unhooked before I even realize you've got your hands up my dress."
"Hm. Yes. The garters. That was the housemaid, I think. My clumsy teenage hands were ruining too many pairs of stockings until she finally showed me."
Georg paused. "You do realize that I was always a gentleman about it, don't you? I didn't go with anyone who was looking for a marriage proposal, or even for love. I was a sailor, in parts of the world where things are just different. I never went looking for it, but there are plenty of women around the world who like a good tumble every bit as much as a man does."
"How many of them were there?' she asked.
"Maria, will there be no end to these questions?"
"Apparently not," she laughed, "how many?"
"I don't know. A dozen. Or, ehrm, two, maybe."
"How many of them – well, was it their first time?"
He gave her a long, considering look, but he didn't say anything until she gave him a frustrated poke in the ribs.
"All right, all right." he grinned. "Only two."
She gave a satisfied nod. "And how many did you love?"
He didn't hesitate. "Three."
There were his two marriages of course, but who was the third? Elsa Schrader's face rose up in front of Maria for a moment. "Three?' she squeaked.
"There was a widow in Barcelona. Before I was married. She broke my heart." He gave her a wistful little smile. "I was very young, though, and I think I confused love with ready access to a woman who wanted me in her bed. The funny thing is, that when I met Agathe, I couldn't get near her for months. She had five older brothers! But it never crossed my mind not to wait for her. And you know," Georg dropped a kiss on the top of her head, "I'd have waited for you too."
"I'm not good at waiting patiently, you ought to know that by now," she laughed, and then they lapsed into a comfortable silence.
He'd left Maria with quite a bit to ponder. She tried to remember what, exactly, she'd believed about the things that went on between men and women before – before she'd come to the villa and fallen in love with her Captain. She'd never questioned what she'd been taught about right and wrong: men had strong, wicked urges they were constantly doing battle with; married couples made babies, of course, and she was heartily in favor of that. And then there were the others, women who were either evil or simply weak of mind or will, who lost control of their feelings and went with men they weren't married to. It hadn't ever occurred to her that a woman might eagerly seek out a man solely for the purpose of pleasure.
True, from the very beginning, that magical night in the gazebo, she had craved her Captain's kisses and caresses. But his obvious delight told her that what was happening between them was normal, not wicked. In fact, she had deliberately sought him out in his bed, hungry to claim him in a way she couldn't during the starched, proper routines of daily life at the villa.
But our situation was different, she thought. I loved Georg with all my heart, I knew he loved me, and we had promised to spend our lives together as husband and wife. Between Maria and her husband, it had never been sinful, but she was beginning to understand why people could become obsessed with sex.
"I didn't know," she hesitated, "that women could want that. Would be willing to … I thought it was only men who were born that way."
"I don't think women are all that different from men, love, not that way. The human race depends on our attraction to each other, doesn't it?"
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Over the next few days, they visited the sights on Georg's list, sampled his favorite restaurants, explored an art gallery or two, and attended a chamber concert in one of the smaller museums. And yet, despite their busy times out, the days and nights expanded, somehow, leaving ample stretches of private time during which Maria felt the bonds between them grow stronger by the hour, nourished by conversation, shared confidences and lovemaking beyond anything she ever could have imagined.
Her husband was a gentle, considerate and generous lover. She felt completely loved, utterly spoiled by his attentions. But now that she'd heard from him directly about his colorful past, Maria was starting to wonder if he was getting as much out of this part of their marriage as she was. Surely part of him must crave the wild, thrilling sensations of his youth, not the slow, patient wooing of an innocent mountain girl. Was he holding back, denying his own pleasure in favor of hers?
How she loved him, and how she wanted to please him in every way! She had no way of knowing his secret desires – though she was sure they existed – and even if she did, she would hardly know what to do about them. There was no point in asking him again, she knew; as he'd done before, he would simply offer reassurance and then distract her before she asked too many more questions.
Maria wasn't above using a little bit of trickery, though, so she bided her time for a few days until, one morning, she woke early and saw her opportunity . Georg was sprawled on his back beside her, gently snoring. Without hesitation, Maria crawled on top of him, rubbing herself against him like a cat, while she covered his neck with enthusiastic kisses and touched him everywhere she could reach. His body began to respond to her before he even came awake with a sleepy groan.
For a moment, he thought he might be dreaming – after all, she haunted his dreams most of the time – but her smooth, hot skin was delightfully real. He ran his hands down her back until he could take hold of her bottom , but then she surprised him by squirming out of his grasp. With a chuckle, he let her turn it into a game: time and time again, he let her torture him with the slide of her soft skin against his body, until, just to remind her that he could, he'd capture her and hold her still against his aroused body only long enough for a kiss before allowing her to wriggle away again. His mind raced, anticipating the moment when neither of them could wait any longer, when he'd settle her into position and fill her inch by inch.
His breath rasped loud and uneven, and she saw his eyes darken with concentration as he moved her over him. He was hard and ready against her –
"Wait!' she cried.
"What-" he grunted in surprise, but held still. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no," she reassured him. "Everything's fine."
"Then please," he strangled. "Please, just let me-"
"In a minute," she said, easing herself away from him. "There's something I need from you first."
Georg strained forward, trying to get her back on top of him, but she wasn't yielding. "Anything at all, darling, anything you want," he gritted, "soon. Very soon. Just not now. Right now, I need you to…"
"Not until you tell me."
"Tell you what?" He looked quite miserable, actually.
"Something you wish we would do. I would do. Something men and women do together that you think would shock me. That you have thought about, but have kept from me. I want you to tell me the truth."
"All right! All right!" he agreed, quickly. His breath came in harsh bursts. "But not now. Let me think about it. I promise I'll explain everything to you."
"You will?" she asked warily.
"I will. Now, will you come back here?" he fairly begged, and Maria gave in, because she knew he was a man of his word, and anyway, all of that squirming had gotten her fairly worked up as well. There would be plenty of time for Georg to fill her in on the details later.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
An hour later, Maria lolled in the big tub while he bathed her, soaping every inch of her thoroughly and then – one of her newest favorite indulgences – went about washing her hair. He took his time, digging his thumbs into her scalp with just the right amount of pressure and then smoothing the soap into her hair. She knew he was delaying keeping his promise to her, but it felt too good to rush through. At last, he finished rinsing the last of the soap out. Dropping his robe by the side of the tub, he climbed in and arranged himself behind her.
She pulled out of his embrace and turned toward him, eyes sparkling. "Now, Georg. Spill."
"Spill what?" he asked innocently.
"I'd like your answer now, please."
"Answer?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I asked you to tell me your most wicked, secret desires and you promised you would tell me. I'm waiting."
He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Maria. You've been asking me about these supposed secret dark desires of mine for two weeks. But stop and think about it, love. Has it escaped your notice that in the last two weeks I've had you forwards and backwards and sideways and upside down? What exactly do you think is left?"
"You promised. Before. You promised me that if I-" she paused to fling a handful of soapy water into his face. "You broke your promise to me!" she huffed.
"Your tactics were unfair," he sputtered, laughing. "Everyone knows that intelligence gathered through torture is unreliable. No man could be expected to hold up under that kind of torment. Not even me," he added smugly.
"You are telling me that there is nothing you ever did with all those dozens of women that you haven't shown me?"
Quite without warning, the laughter left his face. He reached out to smooth a few damp strands away from her face and said gravely, "It's not that simple. I've tried to be considerate of you, it's true. To take things slowly. The fact is that you're not one of them, Maria. You are my," he paused for a moment, and looked away, as though he were embarrassed. "My very own. My treasure. You are precious to me. I can't think of you the same way. I'm sorry."
His reply put Maria in a quandary. What woman wouldn't melt at a confession like that? Sighing, she went into his arms and lay against his chest, listening to the water lap quietly against their skin. She had to let it go for now, but she didn't consider the matter settled. There was something Georg was keeping from her. What was it he needed from her but couldn't bring himself to ask?
Within a matter of days, Maria would learn the answer to her question.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Thank you for reading our story. Please leave us a review. Special shout out to utility_singer who hit the buzzer first and got to choose the site of the Captain's youthful vacation fun. We don't own TSOM or the characters, we just do this for love.