Food was abundant when we returned to the farmhouse. A modest bridal feast had been prepared, including fragrant loaves of fresh bread, a recently slaughtered and roasted beast of some kind, and lots and lots of glorious, wonderful wine.
I was toasted again and again, until I was more than a little tipsy. I sobered quickly when Liam took his turn in giving me a welcoming hug and whispered in my ear:
"I want this marriage properly consummated. There can't be any room for an annulment, or the Dark One will have all our hides."
"Mine especially," I said between gritted teeth.
"Exactly," he said. "Do your part. The lad won't give you any trouble."
I couldn't help but snort at that.
Letting go of me, Liam embraced his brother, and by the look on Killian's face, my groom was also receiving orders.
.
How the hell had this happened?
Within the span of a week, I'd gone from vacationing with my husband, trying to reconnect after his time in jail to… whatever the hell it was I was doing now.
Sitting on a bed, I supposed.
When the gathering of celebrants had decided we'd been feasted enough, the womenfolk had gathered me up and bustled me up to my little attic room, freshening up my hair and face and making sure the room was prepared. They'd left me, finally, with giggles and knowing glances and one young woman's sighing confession of her jealousy of my situation.
I'd almost punched her in the face.
But then they were gone and I was left alone to await the arrival of my new husband, who I barely knew, with firm orders to consummate a forced marriage, at risk of my life and liberty.
I really wanted to punch someone in the face.
There was a faint sound as the door swung open and then shut. Killian leaned against the door, watching me. The air of embarrassment between us deepened. It was Killian who broke the silence finally.
"You have no reason to fear me, love," he said, using the endearment for the first time. I guess he thought he was allowed, since I was his wife and all. "I won't be jumping on top of you."
I couldn't help the amused snort and grin that bubbled up at his comment.
"I didn't think you would," I said. In fact, I didn't think he would actually touch me without an invitation. I was going to have to initiate this whole encounter.
I eyed him dubiously. It would have been harder if I found him unattractive, but the opposite was true. Still, I hadn't slept with anyone other than Neal in over eight years. Not only that, but the young man in front of me was an admitted virgin. I'd never deflowered anyone before. Everything else aside, I didn't even know where to start with that.
"Uh," I said eloquently, "do you want to sit down?"
I patted the bed next to me.
"Aye," he said with an obvious sigh of relief. He crossed the room to me, but grabbed a stool and sat on it facing me instead of sitting beside me on the bed. Once seated, he slowly and deliberately reached for my hands, giving me plenty of time to pull away. I didn't, and he threaded our fingers together. It felt comfortable, though I couldn't help but compare his hands to my former—other—husband's hands. Neal's had been wide and strong, with thick fingers and chewed nails. Killian's hands were long-fingered and graceful, still strong, but possessing a completely different strength than Neal's did.
"Tell me about your husband," he said as though he could read my mind. I almost jerked my hands away in shock.
"What?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"You're somewhat of an open book, love," he said with a little upward curl to his lips. "We have all night, and two more nights after that. I may not have done this before, but I know it won't take that long…"
He paused to favor me with a little grin before he continued in a more serious tone: "We have some time to talk—to… to get over being afraid of one another."
I blinked at that.
"Are you afraid of me?" I asked. He didn't look it. Nervous, maybe. But I suppose even if he wasn't a timid sixteen-year-old, this was his first time.
He looked into my eyes and smiled.
"Aye," he said honestly. "More than you are, I expect. That's why I'm holding your hands, love… to keep mine from shaking."
I didn't believe the last part, but I squeezed his fingers anyway in appreciation of the thought.
"I think… I think it's easier to talk while we're touching," I said, feeling my cheeks pink a little. "But why did you ask about my husband?"
Was he curious about my sex life?
"I know you must be thinking of him," he said diplomatically. "How could you not, given the circumstances? I don't want you to ever feel like you can't speak of him to me. Even though I'm your husband now—and that feels strange to say, doesn't it?—I don't expect you to forget him, or even try to. If… If you loved him, then he must have been a good man."
"Yes," I said, my voice trembling. "He… was."
Killian squeezed my fingers.
"Then I will do my best to honor him by serving his wife," he said. He lifted my hands and bent his head, kissing each of my knuckles in turn.
I cleared my throat.
"That was a very nice speech," I said, licking my lips.
He grinned at me.
"Thank you," he said, tilting his head. "I came up with it while Liam was making toasts downstairs."
I smiled at that and then took a deep breath.
"I… I have questions," I said, forcing my voice to be steady.
"I imagine you do," he said. "God knows I do, too. I think we're both entitled to a degree of curiosity, given the circumstance."
He flashed me another rakish grin.
"What do you want to know..?" he asked. "Why I'm still a virgin?"
My mouth fell open again, but I closed it at once.
"Well, that's your business," I said quickly, looking away. My eyes landed on his heavy gold ring, lying on the bedside table where I'd set it. "Oh, I still have your ring."
I pulled one of my hands out of his and picked up the ring, offering it to Killian. He took it from me, turning it once in his hand so the fat ruby set into it caught the light. He tucked it into his pocket instead of putting it back on his finger.
"It was my father's," he explained. "Liam let me borrow it. I'll get one that fits you as soon as I can."
"It's not important," I said, feeling uncomfortable. It hardly seemed worth the effort. I shifted for a moment, trying to find something to say. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," he said immediately.
"Why did you agree to marry me?" I asked.
He leaned back and did his own share of fidgeting before meeting my eyes again.
"Before I tell you, Emma," he pronounced my name like he was naming a saint, "I must ask for one thing."
"What's that?" I said warily, feeling my defenses rising.
"Honesty," he said.
I must have flinched, because he leaned forward, his face completely serious.
"I know there are things you don't want to tell me, Emma," he said fervently. "Maybe things you can't tell me—"
You don't even know the half of it, buddy, I thought.
"—and I won't demand answers you are unwilling to give," he went on. "I have my own demons and secrets; things I can't say, at least not yet. Believe me when I say I understand. But when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. I promise I'll do you the same courtesy."
I could feel the truth in his words, but I chewed on my lip in uncertainty. It was one thing to ask for honesty and another thing entirely to get it—especially when my truth would surely sound like lies to him.
"We… we don't have much between us, you and I, except, I think, respect," he said, pausing for a moment. I nodded at the words he'd said. Yes, I agreed that we had a mutual respect.
"There's room in that for secrets," he continued, "but not for lies. Do you agree?"
"Yes," I said, nodding again. It seemed like a reasonable compromise. "I can give you honesty."
He nodded, too, seeming to relax just a bit.
"Good," he said. "then you want to know why I married you?"
"I am just a little bit curious," I said, making him smile.
"Well, I have several reasons," he said. "But first and foremost, I want to keep you safe from Rumpelstiltskin."
I shuddered at the memory of my brief encounter with the wild-eyed man and the state of Killian's back.
"I know what that villainous crocodile is capable of," Killian said, "and I will go to the ends of the world to protect you, love; I will keep you safe from him at any cost."
"Thank you," I said, feeling surprisingly flattered. Usually the idea of needing someone to protect me made me unhappy, but Killian's earnest desire to keep me from harm felt… good. "I appreciate that, but is it worth, well, marriage?"
"It is," he said. Two simple words, but the weight behind them was immense. His eyes were completely serious, and I could feel his honesty in my bones.
The moment drew long and heavy, and then Killian looked away, breaking our contact to pour wine into the two goblets set out for the newlyweds. He passed one to me and lifted his solemnly.
"To Mrs. Jones," he said softly.
I felt a thrum of panic again, but I tamped it down, raising my own glass with a trembling hand.
"To honesty," I said, and we both drained our cups.
I let Killian refill my glass, watching him move gracefully in his elaborate costume. He was clearly used to wearing it, despite the borrowed pants. It raised more questions, but I decided to stick with the one I'd already asked.
"You said you had several reasons for marrying me," I said as he sipped his second glass of wine. "Why else?"
He licked his lips before speaking.
"Life is short, and you are radiant," he said, grinning. "Perhaps I simply wanted to bed you, love."
I couldn't help but think he was trying to bait me with that answer.
"Do you?" I asked boldly.
His eyes widened fractionally, but stayed steady on mine.
"In all honesty, yes," he said. "Yes, I do."
Yikes.
But the knowledge made me feel warm, too.
"But you wouldn't have to marry me for that," I said, mostly to see what his reaction would be.
It was worth it.
He choked on his wine, his eyes widening comically.
"I told you I'm a gentleman!" he exclaimed, clearly scandalized.
"Okay," I said in a placating tone, hiding my amused grin behind my wine glass. "I didn't mean to insult your honor."
I clearly had, and he was bristling a little bit. He let go of my hands and stood, stripping off his coat and throwing it over a chair. He paced for a moment, stretching his shoulders. He started to pull at his cravat, but then he looked over at me, as if to see if his stripping had scared me.
I made a "go ahead" gesture with my free hand and shifted my position, scooting back to lean against the headboard. When Killian's cravat and waistcoat were loose, he looked at me again.
"Come sit by me," I said, patting the bed beside me, "and tell me about… all that—" I gestured to his ensemble. "—Are you in the military?"
He scooped up his goblet and the bottle of wine and came to the bed, stepping out of his boots before climbing up to sit next to me. His sleeve brushed my bare arm. He set the bottle between his knees and held his goblet in his far hand, claiming my free hand with his nearer one.
"I was," he said almost wistfully, his thumb running over my knuckles. "I was in the navy—Liam and I both were—but that was a long time ago."
"You were an officer?" I guessed, and he gave me a small smile.
"Aye," he said with a trace of pride, "a lieutenant—" he pronounced it left-tenant, which amused me. "—Liam was my captain."
"What happened?" I asked.
He sighed.
"I can't tell you everything, at least… not yet," he said, squeezing my fingers apologetically. "But to make a long story short, we found ourselves serving a tyrant and defected."
"Oh," I said as I frowned thoughtfully. "How long were you in the navy?"
"Ah…" he said, his head tilting to the side, "that's difficult to say…"
I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. He gave me a little smile and kissed my hand as way of non-answer. I held his gaze, silently challenging, but he refused to budge. His tight-lipped smile turned slightly patronizing.
"And where, exactly, are you from, Emma?" he asked me, cocking an eyebrow.
I frowned but got the point about secrets. Mollified, I found another question.
"Wait a sec. You're telling me you were in the navy for some indeterminate amount of time, and you're still a virgin?" I asked incredulously.
His lips quirked up again, and his eyes danced.
"If you'd seen the port harlots, love, you'd understand why I never touched one," he said, surprising me with his frankness.
I sipped my wine for a moment, composing myself.
"And… your back?" I asked tentatively, wondering how far I could push his willingness to share without reciprocation. "Why were you flogged?"
He shrugged.
"For the Dark One's enjoyment, mostly," he said, making me flinch. How could anyone enjoy inflicting such damage?
"You hadn't committed a crime or something?" I ventured.
"Oh, I'd been caught stealing," he said easily. "I was given a choice: a hundred lashes or my left hand."
I grimaced at the idea.
"What did you steal?" I asked, my voice no more than a whisper.
"Food," he said, meeting my eye for a moment. "I was raiding with Robin, but I was still new at it. They made it safely away. Only I was fool enough to get caught."
"And then they let you go?" I asked. "After..?"
"After Rumpelstiltskin had his fun? Aye," he said. "Tossed me out into the mud. I was lucky the merry men found me again so quickly."
I cringed at the thought of Killian, shirtless and bleeding, being thrown to the ground and left for dead.
"How do you know he…" I said, unsure how to word my question. "How do you know it was fun?"
"The laughing," he said in a surprisingly calm voice. "The Dark One cackled like a child with a toy as he beat me. I tried my best to stay silent, but he forced a gasp or two, and those made him laugh harder. The black knights had to drag him away when he'd reached the hundredth stroke. He would have whipped me to death, I imagine, given the choice."
"That's terrible," I whispered, feeling my stomach flip.
"Aye," he said. He finished his goblet of wine and then met my eyes with a serious expression. "So you can see why I'd do most anything to keep you out of his reach."
I felt overwhelmed at his story and his sincere concern for my safety. There were few people in my life who'd ever put my well-being before their own. Only two, in fact, and I'd married both of them.
Staring into Killian's open, honest eyes, I couldn't find any words to adequately express my appreciation for the choice he'd made to protect me.
So I kissed him.
He was timid at first, even when I took hold of the collar of his waistcoat and hauled him closer to me. But whatever had overtaken us at the wedding found us again, and the kiss deepened. Empty wine goblets forgotten, we explored one another, his fingers threading into my hair as I curled mine around his neck. His tongue darted forward to trace the seam of my lips, begging entrance that I could not deny. He kissed me with an intoxicating blend of passion and restraint, like I was something precious to be savored and preserved. When I finally drew back to catch my breath, we were both breathing hard and flushed.
"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" I asked, my voice a little thick.
"I said I was a virgin, love, not a monk," he said with a wicked grin.
"Clearly," I said, touching my own lips in awe.
"If I need guidance, I'll ask," he said seriously.
I gave a tiny nod, and he kissed me again, his fingers slipping down the back of my neck to land lightly on the top button of my borrowed gown. He paused there, pulling back far enough to ask permission with his eyes. I nodded again, biting my lip, and he claimed my mouth again, shifting to get both of his hands on my dress. He fumbled with the buttons, cursing under his breath between kisses, and I finally had to pull back, fighting a laugh at his predicament. I drew him to his feet, kissing him once more before turning around so he could attack the buttons properly. It was only then that I realized that his hands really were shaking.
It took him several tried to get the first button undone, and I grinned as I listened to him cursing under his breath. His fingers grazed my skin, leaving goose bumps as they moved slowly down my back.
"Ha!" he exclaimed with pride when the last button was finally unhooked, and we laughed together. He unlaced my corset as well, which went smoother. I supposed, as a sailor, he was used to tying and untying knots.
I stepped out of the dress, folding it gently and placed it on the table, near his coat. I untied my petticoats, too, and laid them and the corset over the dress, turning to face Killian in just a loose chemise. His eyes roved over me hungrily, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, but he stayed where he was, standing beside the bed. I went to him, and I finished unbuttoning his waistcoat, sliding it off his shoulders, running my hands along his muscular arms through the thin fabric of his shirt. He trembled under my touch. I knelt and unfastened his pants and let them fall away, leaving him in just the long, white shirt which did nothing to conceal his excitement.
He pulled me to my feet, stepping forward to embrace me, his mouth finding mine and his erection pressing hard into my stomach. I couldn't deny my own arousal. I could try to blame the wine, or the late hour, or his ridiculous good looks, but whatever the reason, I wanted him very badly.
I tugged his shirt up, running my hands across his ribs and over his chest, brushing his nipples with my thumbs. He responded by crushing me to his chest.
"Oof," I said, struggling for breath.
He let go of me at once, apologizing.
"No, it's okay," I soothed. "Kiss me again."
He did, letting his hands ghost up my back to my shoulders, where he slid his thumbs beneath the thin straps of my chemise. He slipped the fabric down my arms, stepping back far enough to let the garment slip free. Slowly, tentatively, he drew his fingers across my collar bones and down to my breasts, cupping them gently and brushing my nipples with his thumbs as I'd done his.
I tugged on his shirt again, and he let go of me long enough to help me tug it up over his head. His shoulder was still sore, and his ribs were still bandaged from where he'd been wounded several days before. I ran my fingers over his chest again, marvelling at how soft the dark dusting of hair there was.
Suddenly, he scooped me up and sat down on the bed, holding me on his lap.
"Tell me if I'm too rough," he whispered hoarsely, his lips in my hair near my ear. "Or tell me if you want to stop. Anytime before we're… joined… I… I don't think I could stop after that."
Instead of answering him aloud, I leaned back, pulling him down to the bed and slipping my legs around him so he was above me. I guided him to the slippery cleft between my thighs.
"Gods, Emma," he exclaimed in a trembling breath as he sank inside me.
"Don't stop now," I said.
I didn't expect it to last long. I didn't mind. When he shuddered and fell apart above me mere moments later, I felt like I was watching a rare, special moment, like a natural phenomenon that only happens once a lifetime. His face contorted beautifully, his eyes screwed shut as a thin sheen of sweat popped out on his forehead. His hips stuttered against mine as he spilled himself inside me. Then his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of me. I savored his weight, running my fingers along his back until his breathing slowed and he rolled off me. He pulled me with him, and it felt oddly natural for him to cradle my head on his chest. We fit well together, and most of our restraint was gone, lost in the shared excitement of exploring one another.
"Was it like you thought it would be?" I asked after a few minutes, genuinely curious.
His chest rumbled under my ear as he chuckled.
"Almost," he said softly, "I thought—Nevermind."
"You thought what?" I asked, tilting my head to look up at him.
"You'll laugh at me," he complained. I was surprised that he was still able to blush.
"No, I won't," I said. "I promise. Tell me."
He stroked my hair for a moment, considering. Then he gave an elaborate sigh.
"All right," he said, looking almost guilty. "I didn't know it happened face to face. I thought… After living on a farm—You're laughing at me!"
"I'm not!" I said, biting my lip hard to try to keep my promise. "So, you'd seen animals, and thought that was how it went. I can understand that… But you've never seen people do it?"
Despite my private room, I'd heard about some of the other sleeping arrangements, and privacy seemed like a luxury in storybook land.
"Oh, I have," he said, raising his head to look down at me. "But they were under blankets in the dark. All I could determine was the man was on top. So I knew that much."
I couldn't stop myself from snorting at that, and was rewarded with an indignant pout.
"He doesn't have to be," I murmured as Killian dropped his head back to the pillow.
His head popped back up and he regarded me with wide eyes.
"Oh?" he said, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. He blushed again before clearing his throat. "Can I ask you something?"
He resumed idly playing with my hair.
"Go ahead," I said.
"Did you… Did you like it?" he said in a shy, quiet voice.
"Yes," I said honestly, stroking his chest.
"I… I thought you did," he said, "but Little John told me women generally don't care for it, so I should finish quickly."
I snorted again and lifted my head.
"What would Little John know about it?" I muttered. "Slower is better for women."
"I assume you'd know better than Little John," he said with a light chuckle. "I was given quite a bit of advice on the subject last night, but most of it seemed unlikely. I thought it best to use my own judgement."
I grinned at him.
"Well, you've done okay so far," I said, "but I'm curious. What other sage advice did they give you?"
He looked away and I watched his ear turn red.
"I couldn't repeat most of it, love," he said in a scandalized tone. "Besides, it's likely worthless."
I chuffed, amused at his naivete and his sense of propriety. I traced idle patterns on his chest and stomach, and his pulse accelerated under my ear.
"That's… very nice," he said, his voice catching as he inhaled sharply. "I know once is all that is required to make things official, but…"
"You want to do it again?" I finished for him, hiding my grin.
"I'd like that very much," he said.
"So would I," I replied honestly.
The second round lasted a little longer than the first, but not by much. I didn't want to bruise his fragile male ego, so I tried not to lecture him on what to do. Instead, I let him fumble through, offering the occasional suggestion, such as that he could lean on his elbows instead of crushing my chest.
Killian made love with a sort of unrestrained joy that made me think that male virginity might be an underrated commodity. He was filled with such exquisite urgency, it made me respond despite his awkwardness. He was amusingly single-minded, but he was clearly concerned for my safety, which I found irritating and endearing.
.
"Are you hungry?" I asked softly, some time later as I stroked his hair. His head was pressed to my chest, listening to my heart.
"Famished," he said. He lifted his head and gently bit my left breast, then he looked up at me. "But I need food, too."
He rolled to the edge of the bed.
"I'm sure I can find us something in the kitchens," he said, reaching for his trousers.
"I'll get it," I said, pulling my chemise over my head and grabbing his shirt to use as a robe. I was opening the door before he'd finished putting on his pants.
"Wait, Emma!" he exclaimed, "let me—"
But I'd already opened the door.
Robin and three of his merry men grinned up at me from where they were sitting near the bottom of the stairs to the attic.
"You can still walk?" cajoled one of the men. "I knew that lad didn't know how to satisfy a wen—"
He cut off abruptly when Robin thumped him in the arm, but the silence didn't last long.
"If you've worn Killian out, I'd be happy to take his place," said another of the men, leering up at me.
I'd already taken two steps out onto the landing, intent on violence, when Killian yanked me back into the room by my arm. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it crossing his arms over his bare chest.
"As I was trying to say, love," he said, his face flushed. "Perhaps you should let me."
"What are they doing on the stairs?" I demanded through gritted teeth.
"They're witnesses, of course," he said. "To make sure we've… ahem."
"I'm going to kill them," I said, reaching for the latch.
"Best not," Killian said with an amused grin that slowly faded to a curious appraisal. "Are witnesses not custom where you are from?"
"They most certainly are not!" I hissed. I crossed the room to sit on the bed, since Killian was keeping me from punishing the cat-calling brutes downstairs.
"Then perhaps you should let me handle them?" he said gently.
I frowned for a moment before relenting.
"Fine!" I huffed. I flopped back on the bed, pulling his shirt around me. It smelled nice.
I heard the door open, and then the crows downstairs started cawing at Killian. I ignored the colorful teasing, though I was amused that Killian was able to give back almost as good as he got. I imagined it was quite a gauntlet to get all the way down to the kitchen on the first floor and back while being harried by hooting cavemen. I decided to give Killian a little reward for his bravery.
I pulled the sleeves of his shirt off my arms long enough to shimmy out of my chemise, then I put the shirt back on. I tossed the chemise across the room and arranged myself on the bed, draping his shirt to best advantage, concealing and highlighting as appropriate. I'd never met a man who didn't appreciate the sight of a woman wearing only his shirt. It seemed like something that would translate even to fairytale land.
Several minutes later, the door opened, Killian shoving it with his shoulder as he backed in, his arms full of food and bottles of wine. He cursed rather creatively at the men on the stairs before kicking the door shut and taking his provisions to the table.
"This should last us a while," he said without looking at me, "I'd rather not do that again if it can be avoi—"
He dropped the bottle of wine he was holding when he finally turned to face the bed. The bottle was apparently a stout one, because there was no sound of breaking glass, just a muffle thump and Killian's sharp gasp of breath. His cheeks were already red from the assault of the men below, but he seemed to get even redder as his eyes roved over me.
He opened his mouth, but what came out was an unintelligible choking sound instead of words. I waited, biting my tongue to keep from grinning at his reaction.
"That's my shirt," he managed, stumbling over the words as if reciting some fiendish tongue-twister.
"Oh?" I said as lightly as I could manage.
"Emma…" he whined, looking completely wrecked.
I raised my arm and crooked my finger, silently asking him to join me on the bed.
He nearly tripped over himself in his enthusiasm to comply.
Our first two encounters seemed to have taken the edge off his lust, and so round three was something of a surprise. He approached me with deliberate slowness, mapping my body with his fingers and lips, charting my valleys and peaks. I was achingly ready for him when he pressed his lips to my ear and whispered:
"You said the man doesn't need to be on top, love. Show me?"
I arched against him and then rolled, pressing him down to the mattress and rising to straddle him. He gazed up at me with such reverent awe, like I was a goddess or a force of nature. He held my eyes with some difficulty as I sunk down on him, my body accommodating his with blissful eagerness. His face contorted as I raised my hips and then lowered them again, him mouth open in a silent O. His hands landed on my hips, and then slid up to my breasts, cupping and gently squeezing them as I continued to rise and fall above him.
I gasped in pleasure as one of his thumbs flicked my nipple. Killian quickly repeated the move, then continued to explore, chasing my sighs and moans.
"Beautiful," he murmured, stroking my skin and bucking his hips up into mine.
His tenderness made me feel giddy and light-headed. I closed my eyes and let myself ride the sensations of his touch and his words. I leaned back, putting my hands on his thighs and arching as I rose against him, moving in languid circles and figure-eights, my hair streaming down behind me.
And then all at once, I was keening, my thighs trembling as I shuddered and cried out in surprised ecstasy. Killian caught me as I fell against him, his arms encircling me lightly.
"Did I hurt you?" he gasped in a trembling voice. His fingers roved my skin gently, searching for injuries.
"No," I said dreamily, stretching.
"Are you sure?" he asked, carefully rolling me off him so he could inspect me properly for damage.
It was only then that I realized that none of Killian's hasty sexual education had covered the possibility of my pleasure. I rectified the problem, using my afterglow euphoria as armor against embarrassment. When I finished my explanation, Killian was looking at me with wide-eyed amazement.
"But it doesn't happen every time?" he prompted.
"No, not every time," I replied, amused. "Only if the man is a good lover."
"Oh," he said, his lips parting as his color rose again. He looked bashful for only a moment, before a fierce determination overtook his features.
"You'll have to tell me what to do next time, love," he said, "to ensure… victory."
I let out a little laugh, grinning at him.
"You don't need to do anything special," I said. "Just pay attention... Why wait, though? You're still ready."
"You don't need to wait?" he asked, clearly surprised. "I couldn't do it again right away."
"Well, women are different," I said wryly.
"Aye, I noticed," he said, grinning back at me. His hand came up to stroke my cheek, and then his fingers trailed down my side. "You're so… delicate, love, I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you."
"You won't," I said, "and if you did a little, I wouldn't mind."
His jaw dropped again, and he started at me in puzzled incomprehension. I responded with a wicked grin.
"I'll show you what I mean," I murmured, slipping out of his embrace and sliding down the bed.
"What are you doing, lass?" he gasped as I wrapped my fingers around him.
"Just what it looks like," I said in amusement. "Hold still."
He vocalized incomprehensibly when my lips touched him, his hands flying down to grab handfuls of the bedsheets. He did his best to keep from moving too much, but it was obviously a struggle.
After a few minutes, I started using my teeth, pressing progressively harder until he gasped again and let out a little whimper. I pulled back, looking up at him with an amused smirk.
"Did I hurt you?" I asked gently.
"A little," he stammered, trying to control his breathing.
"Do you want me to stop?" I asked, feeling wickedly powerful.
"Gods, no!" he moaned, trembling under my touch.
I obliged him, leaning forward again and alternating gentle and rougher touches until his was writhing and gasping. He threaded one of his hands lightly into my hair before he went completely rigid beneath me and then shuddered in release. I drew back when he gave a small whine of overstimulation.
He threw his arm over his face and mumbled something I didn't catch.
"What was that?" I asked, crawling up the bed to lie beside him.
He uncovered his face and turned to me, opening his impossibly blue eyes.
"I said, 'I thought my heart was going to burst,'" he said before shutting his eyes again.
I grinned in satisfactions.
"Oh, Little John and the others didn't tell you about that one, did they?" I half-teased.
"Aye, they did," he said, cracking one eyelid to peer at me sideways. "I didn't believe them."
I laughed.
He took a few centering breaths before propping himself up on his elbows to look me over again.
"If I did that to you," he mused, "would it feel the same?"
"Um, well," I said slowly. "I, uh, don't really know."
I'd been doing my best not to think of Neal, but I couldn't help it when Killian asked about that particular act. I'd been fairly naive when Neal and I'd gotten together, but there were things I'd done in high school. Some had left a bad impression. And, with half of our relationship spent with one of us behind bars, it wasn't something that Neal and I had fully explored.
Killian's eyebrows raised in speculation.
"Oh, so there is something you don't know, love?" he teased. "Well, we'll find out together, then, once I have my strength back. Sometime next week, perhaps."