Okay, so here is a fair warning: This chapter contains explicit sexual content, (and by explicit, I really do mean explicit!) We're not fooling around here, you have been warned!
Giving In
It was almost midnight, and all was silent. Margaret sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the candle on the bedside table, as it was slowly burning down.
She had attempted to fall asleep, but had been unsuccessful, feeling strangely restless.
Whenever she had closed her eyes, her thoughts had immediately wandered to John.
Here they were, under the same roof once more, and they had barely spoken more than a few sentences with each other. There were so many things left unsaid, and the more time that passed, the more unbearable it became.
During her stay in Heston, he had been nowhere near her, and although her thoughts had never strayed far from him, the physical distance had made it easier to ignore the strange, incomprehensible feeling his presence seemed to evoke in her.
Now, knowing that they would spend the night, separated by a mere wall, it was so much harder.
The unfamiliar ache inside her, which had been there for some time, and had gradually become stronger, was almost painful now. She had no name for it, and yet it was always there, in the back of her mind, like a flame that bore the potential to become a raging, uncontrollable fire.
The way she yearned for him filled her with such shame, that she felt her cheeks burn whenever her mind strayed in that sinful direction. She had tried to push it away, but any attempt had proven futile.
Margaret sighed and rose from her bed, to reach for her robe. She would go and get a book from the study. Maybe it would help take her mind off things.
She picked up the candle from the bedside table, opened the door, and quietly made her way down the hall and the stairs.
The moment she opened the door to the study, Margaret froze.
A faint glimmer of light suggested that the lamp on the desk was lit. John was still there.
She stood, tempted for a moment, to turn around and leave, but something held her back.
Very slowly, she pushed against the door, opening it inch by inch, until he came into view.
John was sitting at his desk, his forehead braced on his hand, as he was writing. He had donned his coat and waistcoat and was only wearing his shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons open, exposing the skin at the base of his throat.
Margaret felt the heat rush to her face at the sight, and swiftly pulled her eyes away. He was so focussed on his work, that he had not heard her come in, and did not look up, as she silently closed the door behind her and took a few tentative steps towards him.
He looked so tired and worn out, and his shoulders seemed tense to a point that had to be painful. He worked so hard every day, to save the mill, all the while knowing that it was likely to no avail, and her heart broke for him.
She could not fathom where he drew the strength from. She took in his pale face and felt a pang of worry.
"John?"
He gave a small jump, and his head shot up, startled. It took a second for his tired eyes to focus, and once they did, he could not help but gape at the sight before him.
Margaret was in her robe, and her hair was dangling down over her shoulders and back, just like it had, on the night when they had stayed in the same room in London.
But back then, she had immediately turned her back to him and had quickly hidden under the bed covers. Now, she was standing right before him, seemingly unashamed, and it instantly took his breath away.
"I did not hear you come in", he uttered a bit huskily, after having taken a moment to catch himself.
She moved closer still, coming to stand beside him, and looked down at what he had been writing.
"It's late", she said in a low voice. "You must be tired. Do you not want to go to bed?"
"I just needed to finish off these accounts. I'll be done soon", he replied hastily, looking up at her and trying to focus on her face, instead of any other place on her body.
"What are you doing out of bed in the middle of the night, Margaret?"
"I could not sleep. I was going to look for a book to read", she confessed, as she placed her candle on his desk.
"Feel free to take whatever you like", he told her, motioning towards the bookshelves with his hand, while his other, unconsciously, moved to rub the back of his neck, in an attempt to relieve the painful tension that had built there, from sitting in a hunched position for hours.
She noticed the movement, and, overcome by a sudden burst of courage, she could not explain, Margaret quietly stepped behind him and slowly, carefully, placed both her hands on his shoulders.
She felt him stiffen momentarily at the unexpected touch, but did not pull back.
Acting braver than she felt, she started pressing her fingers into his tense muscles, trying to provide him with some relief.
He sat completely still, frozen, almost like a statue. She felt his warmth seep into her palms and it sent a curious rush through her.
"Try to relax", she murmured, as her fingers gradually dared to push harder, moving from his shoulders towards the nape of his neck. "You must be in pain."
He let out a slow, trembling breath, struggling to calm himself.
Margaret was touching him, and it felt like the sweetest torture he had ever endured.
Within half a minute, his whole body was on high alert, very aware of her closeness, and he had to fight to keep himself in check.
He almost wished she would stop, before it became too much to bear, but at the same time, he prayed that she would go on forever.
Margaret sensed a change in him. His breathing grew shallow, and his head rolled forward slightly, in reaction to her touch.
A peculiar sensation took hold of her, like she was doing something forbidden, but for the life of her, she could not pull away.
Slowly, she let her hands wander from his neck, back towards his shoulders, and then, leaning forward slightly, her chest almost touching his back, moved down the outside of his upper arms.
She heard his breath hitch.
"Does it hurt?"
He shook his head wordlessly, squeezing his eyes shut.
She saw him flex his right hand a few times. It had grown slightly stiff from writing without much of a break, for the past three hours.
Letting her instincts guide her, she walked back around to his front, and, pulling the nearest chair close, she sat down and leaned forward, her face less than twenty inches from his.
Unable to meet his eyes, she reached out to grasp his hand in both of hers and carefully turned his palm upwards. His hand was warm, his skin calloused, yet tender. Slowly, she let her fingers move across it in small circles, gently pressing here and there.
She noticed that his breathing had grown heavier than before, and, as if of their own accord, her eyes darted from their joined hands to his face.
He appeared a bit flushed from the heat of the fireplace, or something else, she was not sure. His lips were parted slightly, and when his eyes met hers, they were dark, filled with an emotion she had never seen before. It struck her as almost dangerous, yet strangely captivating, making it impossible to look away.
All of a sudden, it felt as though the air in the room had changed, this small gesture, the touch of her hand on his, feeling incredibly intimate to both of them.
Margaret sat, spellbound, unable to move.
John's resolve was breaking.
For a year, he had struggled, had done everything to prevent himself from acting on his desires. But she was so close now, touching him, gazing at him with an expression of utter innocence, and yet, could it be longing?
A longing, she herself, probably did not fully understand.
Unable to fight his urges any longer, he felt himself move forward. Trying to suppress a whimper, which was threatening to force itself from his lips at her gentle touch, his forehead came to rest against hers, and his eyes drifted closed at the overwhelming sensation of her breath mingling with his.
Her hands stopped moving, but she did not pull back.
She was so close.
Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat, when he felt a warm hand come to rest against his cheek.
He opened his eyes a little, to find hers closed, her lips parted, her breathing a bit shaky.
"John!", she whispered, as her thumb slowly moved across his cheek. It was all it took.
He leaned in, closing the space between them, and then his lips were on hers, and the world came to a halt.
It was that very moment, when their lips met for the first time, that Margaret would remember forever.
It was so different from what she had imagined.
He was so soft, so warm, so gentle, so unlike how she had pictured him for such a long time, and yet, so like the man she had eventually come to know.
It was then, that she knew, she was changed forever.
It lasted only for a moment, before he pulled back, his eyes closed, his face remaining mere inches from hers, and without thinking, she swayed forward, towards him, reclaiming his lips with hers, with an air of despair.
John was lost.
She was kissing him!
Margaret was kissing him!
It felt like an out-of-body experience, like a feverish dream, he prayed he would never wake from.
She felt him tremble, as their mouths moved against each other in a slow, sensual caress. His hand came up to the back of her head, holding her, almost shyly.
Their lips met, again and again, gentle at first, then gradually growing bolder, their breathing heavy, as a strange urgency took hold of them.
His right hand found its way into her hair, sliding through her soft, dark curls, while her hands timidly moved around his neck, unaccustomed to touching him, and not sure how.
A small sigh escaped her. The sound sent a jolt of longing through John, and, unable to hold back, he moaned into her mouth.
Neither of them knew how she had ended up in his lap. He sank back against the headrest of the chair, and his arms came around her, pulling her to him, as his hands slowly started moving up and down her back.
He felt the curves of her breasts press against his chest, and was afraid that he would faint at any moment, as all the blood in his body seemed to rush downward, leaving him lightheaded.
Margaret could not tell what had come over her. It felt like the answer to a prayer, to be with him like this, like she had finally found a cure for that unbearable ache that had been building inside her for all these months.
She could not think clearly, all she knew was that she needed more, as if she wanted to breathe him in, to sink into him, to be so close to him that they would melt into each other and become one.
Eventually, they broke apart, both hopelessly fighting for air.
He looked up at her, his eyes glazed over with lust, and realized that her robe had come undone, granting him a full view of rosy skin, only covered by a thin nightgown.
He lifted his eyes to her parted lips, red and swollen from their kisses, as the gravity of what was happening started sinking in.
"Margaret", he uttered shakily, his hands still on her back. "Good God, what are we doing?"
She did not know.
All she knew was that she had never felt like this, and that she was yearning for more of it.
"John – I – I need – "
She could not find the words, craving – something.
With a shudder, she leaned forward, touching her forehead to his once more.
"I need you", she breathed against his face, praying that he would understand.
He did.
By God, he did.
His head fell back with a moan, as he suddenly became aware of her hips pressing into his.
She could not know what this would lead to, if they kept going. He would not be able to contain himself much longer.
He felt a shy hand come up to his chest, quivering, barely touching him, as though she was afraid of overstepping.
"Margaret", he pleaded, grasping her upper arms and gently pushing her back a little, to make her look into his face.
"Tell me to stop!", he whispered. "Tell me to keep the promise I made to you on the night of our wedding."
Margaret looked down at him, as the meaning of his words slowly sank in, thrilled her, and at the same time, terrified her.
She sensed what he was implying, and yet her knowledge was so limited, that she could not grasp all that it entailed.
Did she want him to take her to bed and do these unspeakably intimate things to her – things she did not even fully understand? It was what husbands and wives did after all, was it not? What lovers did.
Were they not lovers? He loved her, she knew. And she loved him, although she had never had the courage to tell him.
And this urge – an urge to give herself to him, body and soul, to be touched by him, as no other had ever touched her before – she could not suppress it any longer.
"I – I can't", she heard herself breathe, in answer to his plea. "I can't stop you!"
He stared at her in shocked disbelief.
"I can't", she repeated once more, a bit louder.
And then, she fell forward, finding his mouth with hers once more.
She knew she should have been ashamed of herself for acting in such an incredibly sinful and wanton way. What on earth would he think of her? It seemed as if, after holding back for so long, she just could not contain herself anymore.
His response was instant, his need quickly overruling any coherent thought, and he opened his lips to deepen the kiss. His hands moved across her abdomen, his hips bucked against hers with a groan, and Margaret felt something hard press against her, between her legs.
She gasped when the touch evoked an unfamiliar throbbing sensation there, and her body acted of its own accord, as she started grinding her hips into his, seeking more.
It almost felt as though she was trying to scratch an itch, but with every movement, it only became stronger.
She felt him suckle at her bottom lip, and then the tip of his tongue touched hers and she lost herself completely, opening her mouth wide to meet him, clinging to him as if she never wanted to let go.
His hands found her hips, as she ground against him, the movements of their bodies growing frantic, their breaths coming in heavy pants.
"Stop", he whimpered eventually, breaking away from her and pushing her back once more.
"Please", he begged, searching her eyes. "We need to slow down for both of our sakes. I cannot lose control. Not like this."
The sudden urgency in his voice succeeded in pulling Margaret out of her daze, enough to grasp what they had been doing, and immediately, she felt the heat rush to her face.
She quickly averted her eyes, unable to look at him. "I'm sorry", she murmured, mortified at her own behaviour. What had come over her to throw herself at him so shamelessly?
She struggled to get up from his lap, but his hands flew to her arms, stopping her.
"Margaret, wait!" Now, she could not help but look up at him.
His face was flushed and glistening slightly with perspiration, his hair clinging to his forehead, his chest still rising and falling heavily with every breath.
"Please, do not think that any of this is unwelcome. I just – " he searched for words. "I need to understand. I did not expect anything like this", he finished a bit uncertainly.
Suddenly, Margaret felt tears prick her eyes, as her emotions threatened to overpower her.
"Oh John", she burst out, gasping for breath, as she desperately tried to find the words, to express her predicament.
"Is this so wrong? Is it wrong to want to be with you like this?"
He stared at her, taken aback by her words, not knowing how to respond.
"I don't know what's happening to me", she cried. "It all feels so different from before. I – I did not want this before. It did not feel right, but now-"
She drew a shaky breath. "I want to hold you, John", she confessed, feeling her face flush with heat, as though it had been set on fire, while her heart thrummed against her ribcage heavily.
"I want to be close to you. I'm not sure when or how exactly it happened, for I dared not admit it to myself for the longest time but-"
She had to say it. She had to.
She slowly raised her eyes to his and found them so full of hope, but also trepidation.
"John, somewhere along the way, I have fallen in love with you."
His heart stopped.
For seconds, there was utter silence.
At a complete loss for words, his mind slowly worked to process what she had said.
She saw a glint of tears in his eyes as he looked up at her in wonder, and was overcome at this open display of his emotions.
Her hand cupped his cheek, her thumb gently brushing away a single tear. "Now we are both crying", she breathed.
She saw him swallow hard. "I did not – " He drew a shaky breath "I did not think I would ever hear you say those words."
A second hand came up to his other cheek, tenderly holding his face.
"I love you Margaret", he panted, unable to hold back any longer.
"I know!"
"Y-you know?" He could only stare at her in astonishment.
Margaret nodded slowly. "I know", she repeated. "You told me, that night when I was sick."
His eyes widened. "You heard that?"
"I did", she admitted.
John felt his face grow hot. "I had not meant for you to hear", he muttered, suddenly self-conscious. "I was not myself that night, I thought I was losing you."
"I'm glad you told me", she murmured. "I'm only sorry I did not realize it sooner. You were in love with me all along, were you not?"
"I was in love with you almost from the moment we first met, Margaret", he told her earnestly.
She had to swallow hard at the sincerity in his expression, feeling terrible for not having seen what had been right before her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I was struck with blindness. Oh John, what you must have gone through."
He made no reply, but reached up to wrap his arms around her carefully, pulling her into his embrace. Margaret came willingly, her body tingling from his closeness. His chest was against hers, and she could feel every breath he took.
Neither knew how long they sat like this, her in his lap, their arms wrapped around each other.
"What now?", he murmured eventually.
Two words, a somewhat innocent question, but they both knew the answer to it.
After her initial passion had cooled down somewhat, Margaret could still feel it lurking dangerously beneath the surface, only waiting for an opportunity to rear its head again, but at the same time, she suddenly felt beyond frightened.
She still knew little of the things that happened between a man and a woman in their marriage bed. Since his declaration, that night, that he would not make demands of her, she had simply stopped giving it much thought.
But now, there was some instinct, deep inside her, which told her that whatever was to happen, just felt too right. She wanted him to be with her fully, the way they had been meant to, from the start. Could it be so wrong?
Her arms around him tightened, as, in a moment of bravery she had not known she possessed, she whispered: "Make me yours, John."
Without a word, he moved, helping her to stand up, before he rose from the chair himself.
He took her hand in his, while his other reached out to the lamp on his desk, to turn it off. Then, taking hold of the candle she had brought in, he slowly led her to the door.
They ascended the stairs in complete silence and walked down the hallway, until they reached her room. He stopped in front of her door. "Margaret, are you certain about this?", he asked once more, needing to reassure himself.
Margaret could not answer.
Faced with the pending reality of her decision, she now felt beyond nervous, scared even. But she would not let it stop her, she told herself firmly.
And then, before her fear could get the better of her, she pushed open the door and pulled him inside, locking it behind them.
He put the half-burned candle on her bedside table and they stood, in the semi-darkness - looking at each other.
Then, without further warning, he closed the distance between them.
The kiss was gentle, a soft touch that seemed to vibrate through her entire body in a strange way. She felt his hands on her arms, moving up and down slowly, sensually. Her head tipped back, as she opened her mouth to him, and when she felt his tongue against hers once more, she dared to respond, meeting him halfway.
He moaned against her lips, and the sound set her entire body aflame.
Margaret did not know how or when they had ended up sprawled across her bed, breathless from their kisses.
Her robe had fallen open, exposing her nightgown to him. His lips never left hers, as his hand slowly moved from her cheek down her neck to her collarbone and then…deeper.
She gasped when he brushed against the curve of her breast through her nightgown. No one had ever touched her there. In her head it seemed wrong – but, dear God, it felt so right.
A sigh escaped her lips as he cupped her breast with his hand, and her back arched to press into his touch.
His lips travelled from her mouth to her cheek, then up to her forehead, leaving a gentle trail of kisses, as though he was worshipping her with his every touch. Then, he moved lower, down her neck to the base of her throat.
Her breath hitched, and her head fell back against the pillow, giving him better access, as her hands found the back of his head and stayed there, unmoving for a moment, before they slowly dared wind their way into his hair.
John felt like he was drowning. Her body beneath him seemed to respond to the slightest touch. He felt her breath quicken when he found another sensitive spot, felt her arch up to press into him, her fingers tightening in his hair every so often.
His whole being yearned for her. It was the most wonderful torture he had ever endured. He felt dizzy, unable to think clearly, as the blood rushed from his brain to other regions of his body. With his head wiped clean of any thought, all that was left for him to do, was feel.
Her fingers on his neck, her breath on his cheek, her leg, unintentionally slipping between his, as she moved under him, pressing into the very place that ached most for her touch, and pulling a groan from his lips.
Their mouths moved together with urgency now. Margaret felt his hand slip beneath her nightgown, and for a moment, she felt alarmed, forcing her eyes open in surprise.
He stopped, lifting his head to search her face a bit unsurely, an unspoken question in his eyes, almost like a silent plea.
She suddenly felt very self-conscious. Everything about this situation felt so strange. It went against everything she had been taught. There was nothing proper about it.
Here she was, with him on top of her, kissing and moaning, and he was about to strip her completely bare.
But then she saw the look in his eyes, full of longing, almost blinded by lust, and she felt herself respond to it.
The odd throbbing sensation down between her legs was back. She was tingling all over, yearning for his touch, and realized that she longed for his hands on her bare skin.
Without a word, she nodded her consent, giving in to the urges of her body, suddenly so much stronger than her shame.
She sat up to help him pull off her robe, and then his hands carefully reached for the hem of her nightgown, pulling it over her head.
Margaret held her breath for a moment, not daring to look down at herself.
She saw his eyes drop from her face, and fought the urge to lift her hands and cover herself in shame. His mouth dropped open slightly, his breath coming in heavy pants as he took her in.
In his wildest dreams, John had not imagined what the sight of her would do to him. The soft, white skin of her breasts glowed in the dim light of the fire, her nipples rosy and erect, inviting him to touch her. He could not tear his eyes away.
He leaned forward, capturing her lips with his once more, as his hands wandered back towards her body.
The sensation was so strong that she almost wailed – she could barely tell whether it was pleasure or agony he evoked in her, when his hands started massaging her breasts. His fingers circled around her nipples, his mouth on her neck, as he whispered against her skin.
"You are so beautiful."
He kept touching her, and she felt the pleasure inside her build, making her pray that this would never stop.
After a blissful eternity, he pulled back, and Margaret forced her eyes open with some difficulty, to see him pull his own shirt over his head.
She gaped at him, unable to look away. She had never seen a man without his clothes on.
She had seen paintings, yes, but they had not been able to prepare her for reality.
He looked different from her, his body lean but strong, the muscles in his upper arms bulging slightly. His chest was covered in very fine, dark hair, heaving with every breath that he took.
He rose from the bed for a moment, and when she saw what he was about to do, Margaret swiftly tore her eyes away, her face flushing hot with embarrassment. She could not look at him, not when he was undressing even further.
She sensed his movements and heard the sound of garment dropping to the floor, and then he was above her again, and she realized, that they were now both completely naked. He sank down on top of her, letting his body touch hers all the way down.
She felt the hair of his chest brushing against the sensitive nipples of her breasts, and her entire body quivered beneath him. He felt – so good. She could not hold back a moan, as her head dropped back against the pillow once more.
His mouth was on hers again, and she felt something hard, pressing against her hip, but did not dare look, as his hands wandered down her body, over her breasts, her abdomen, and then, slowly, it moved even lower.
He hesitated for a moment, searching her eyes with his, to reassure himself that he was not overstepping, but Margaret was too far gone now to keep him from anything he would do to her.
When his hand moved between her legs, her whole body jolted violently. Her hands flew to his upper arms, grasping for something – anything – to cling to, as her mouth fell open and her eyes filled with shocked disbelief at the unfamiliar sensation which overpowered her instantly.
"John!", she gasped, as his fingers moved across her most private place, feeling, probing, stroking. And then, he found the one spot that was destined to break her last restraint.
Margaret only realized after, that the loud cry she had heard, had forced itself from her own lips. She had never known that a feeling this strong existed, and it shook her to the core.
His fingers started moving, circling that tiny nub, and her entire body stiffened, as she cried out once more. Any sense of propriety had left her completely. Her legs fell open wide and her hips arched upwards to press into his touch in sheer despair.
A few blissful moments later, he pulled his hand away, and she sighed, almost pleadingly, needing him back there, needing more.
Then, he moved. Bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her face, his body came to rest between her legs.
She felt something hot and hard touch her there, as her hands found his shoulders.
"Margaret", he whispered through laboured breaths. "This may hurt. Tell me to stop, if it's too much."
She had no idea what was to happen now, so she only nodded. He lowered his head and reclaimed her lips with his, kissing her with abandon, his hand in her hair, moving gently through her curls.
She felt him rub against her, grinding his hips into hers, as they had done in his study, only this time, there was no barrier of clothes between them.
Unable to stop herself, Margaret sighed into his mouth, her hips bucking to meet his, craving…
There was an unfamiliar sensation, like something was slowly pushing into her, pressing, moving forward, as her body slowly gave way.
She gasped, as a sudden sharp pain shot through her, and he stopped immediately, his forehead against hers, trying to keep his breathing even.
"Are you alright?", he whispered.
Unable to think clearly, she felt herself nod her head. Once more, he moved, taking his time. Inch by inch she felt him slip into her. It was a strange sensation. It felt a bit unpleasant, but she bit the inside of her cheek and let him continue, sensing his need.
Then, he was inside her fully, and for a moment they just lay, unmoving, joined completely, body and soul, her arms around him, as she felt his chest rise and fall against hers with every breath.
Eventually, he moved, carefully pulling back out of her, and she gave another sharp gasp when, unexpectedly, he was there again, filling her, and she felt her insides stretch around him.
"I'm so sorry", he muttered. "Should I stop?"
Truthfully, she shook her head. After the first stab of pain was over, it did not hurt anymore. It was a slight feeling of discomfort, but nothing she could not handle.
"I'm alright, John. Go on", she told him softly.
He kissed her forehead, and, stifling a groan, pulled back once more.
Slowly, he started moving in and out of her, taking his time to let her get accustomed to the feeling, while keeping a tight grip on his self-control.
He was engulfed by warmth, as her inner muscles wrapped around him, pulling him deeper. She was so tight and wet, so ready for him, and he fought the urge to plunge himself into her senselessly.
Margaret lay, with her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around him.
Gradually, the unpleasant feeling lessened, to be replaced by another. She felt him stroke her insides, touching her in sensitive places she had not known existed, and that she grew more aware of with every time he entered her.
"Oh", she breathed against his neck, when he suddenly hit a particular spot that sent a wave of pleasure through her. "John - there!"
He found a rhythm, keeping his thrusts steady, and she felt the pleasure inside her increase, until her nails dug into his back and her mouth fell open to force out breathless gasps every time his tip hit her core.
It felt as though she could not take any more, and yet, he kept her climbing higher and higher, shifting her legs to push even deeper, until her gasps turned into moans, growing louder, as the last bit of her control slipped away.
His body was tense, his breathing irregular, and when her eyes met his, she found them dazed, yet with a strange, deep feeling in them, raw, almost vulnerable.
It was as though something unspoken was passing between them, and, overcome by it all, she reached out and pulled him close.
Slowly, her hands, which had not dared move before, started stroking up and down his back in a slightly shaky caress.
John was already halfway gone, drunk with the feeling of her body around him, but it was the way she held him so tenderly, the way her hands roamed his body with such gentleness, that threatened to be his undoing.
His head dropped to her chest with a sigh, as he reached a trembling hand down between them, once again finding the tiny nub between her legs with his thumb, and he felt her body convulse at the touch.
"John! Please", she called out, not knowing what she was begging for.
Margaret felt as though she was flying. All she could feel was him, all over herself, filling her and engulfing her at the same time.
And then, suddenly, everything spun out of control.
She did not know what was happening to her, as strong jolts of pleasure pulsed through her entire body, washing over her like tidal waves, one after the other. Her inner walls started convulsing around him, as her mouth fell open.
Through a daze, she called his name, cried out, again and again, until her voice failed her, and her entire body shook violently, as she clung to him for dear life.
She felt him bury his face against her shoulder, and then, suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, his body tensing up with a breathless, throaty groan.
It was as though John had been struck by lightning. Time seemed to stop, as a burst of pleasure erupted inside him, drowning out every last thought, and then he fell apart in her arms, as he pulsed into her, over and over.
With one last shuddering sigh, he collapsed on top of her, just conscious enough of himself to put as much weight as possible on his forearms, to keep from crushing her.
They lay together, with him still inside her, their bodies touching everywhere, chests heaving against each other as they struggled for breath.
Her shaking hands slowly travelled up from his back, over the nape of his neck, to his hair, and, with tears in her eyes, she gently held his head and turned her own, to find his cheek with her lips and kissed him there; her only means of conveying what she needed to express, when all words failed her.
It was a long while, before either of them was able to think clearly, and make sense of what had happened between them.
Eventually, he slowly pulled out of her and rolled onto his side, drawing her close once more. Margaret came willingly, and they lay in each other's arms, facing each other, eyes closed, as their breathing slowly returned to normal.
Everything was changed. It almost seemed as if two souls had infinitely merged into one. There was no fear now, no restraint. After months and months of holding everything in, both their hearts were completely open, and finally, they were safe with each other.
The candle on the bedside table had burned down, and all was quiet around them.
"I did not know it felt like this", she breathed finally.
"Was it very painful?", he whispered anxiously.
Her hand came up to rest against his cheek. "Only a little, at the very beginning. But then it felt – it felt good, John." She could barely find the words to tell him. "It felt incredible."
A slow smile spread across his face.
"It felt good for me too, Margaret."
He moved closer to claim her lips with his, and she felt herself melt into him.
"I dreamed of this for so long", he confessed softly. "But I never dared imagine that it would ever really happen."
Margaret suddenly felt glad that they had waited until she had been ready. This had been the single most intimate and wonderful thing she had experienced in her life.
She did not want to ponder what would have happened, had he taken his marital rights on their wedding night, when they had barely known each other. Margaret felt certain that it would have scarred her emotionally.
But knowing now the full magnitude of what he had been willing to give up for her, quenching his own needs and desires, she felt doubly grateful. She realized that this was simply the sort of man that he was, and felt herself fall in love with him all over again.
Wrapped in his arms, she sensed his breathing even out, as exhaustion finally claimed him.
Margaret lay awake a little longer, relishing the feeling of his warmth, finally so close to her. It felt so wonderfully natural that she did not know how it had taken them so long.
She closed her eyes and buried her face against his bare chest, nuzzling into him, as she finally drifted off into peaceful sleep.
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NOTES:
If you think this chapter was fun to write, think again! It was literally a PAIN! It took me a total of 3 months (!) and at least 15 rewrites to be SOMEWHAT happy with this one :P
So you better like it, after all the effort I put into it, lol.