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CHAPTER TWO
When morning finally breaks, she's surprised to find that her body has mingled with his own throughout the night.
Her legs are his legs as his hands are hers. Her sprawled red hair is thrown across his chest and his long eyelashes rest upon the top of her head. It's intimate. Perhaps even a little bit too much.
There is next to no sunshine is their room, the only ray of light coming in past the window and sprinkling along the floor beside the bed.
Her eyes feel heavy, tired, and she moves her small hand away from his stomach to cover her mouth when a yawn escapes past her lips.
"I take it that you didn't sleep well?"
She quickly flickers her gaze up to him, to her husband, and she swallows a breath, throat tightening with a sheepish smile and blush, "What makes you say that?"
"You look tired. Are you not well-rested enough?" Jackson asks, closing his eyes again as though he's going to drift back off to sleep.
April frowns, "No, no, I am. I just- I am exhausted."
"You're exhausted without being tired? Well, aren't you something special."
She's undecided if he was just being funny with her or having a joke at her expensive.
"It's not the same thing."
"Well then, please, enlighten me." He teases her and turns over, his muscled back now facing her and she swallows deeply.
Why couldn't he sleep with clothes on?
She flutters her lashes, laying back down against her pillows, "I can't explain it."
"I see." He almost laughs at her, and she frowns.
April rolls her eyes and reaches for one of the cushions beneath his head, pulling it away from him and smacking him over the head with the pillow.
Before she has a second to comprehend what's happening, he's rolling over to grab her wrists, holding her body tight beneath his.
"Do not hit me."
She swallows, raising a brow half out of curiosity, half in pride, "What are you going to do about it?"
Jackson glares down at her, fingertips pressing her palms and pushing their hands against her stomach lightly. She notices him staring at her lips and she licks them.
"You wouldn't hit a woman, would you?"
"Are you a woman?" He voices, and she silently gasps when he lets go of her wrists and runs his hands down the sides of her legs.
She stills when he touches her thighs, pushing and tracing her skin with his own and narrowing his eyes as he continues to stare down at her.
"How does a man know you're truly a woman if you've never spread your legs for him before?"
She grinds her teeth, slapping her hands down onto his shoulders, "You seemed pretty sure last night."
He smirks then, bringing his hands back down to her legs and cupping her knees.
"Have you always been so-"
"What?" The redhead frowns, nostrils flaring and digging her fingers into his shoulder-blades.
Jackson pauses, taking a second to let his eyes sweep her body. He can feel her lay flat beneath him, though her back is slightly arched and her arms are forward. She's nervous, though she's trying her best to hide it. And he smiles again, noticing his new wife's uneasy breath.
"Nevermind. It's not the same thing."
He steals her words, literally and suddenly, and she's unable to form coherent speech patterns when he grabs the hem of her nightgown and pulls it up her thighs.
April closes her eyes, feeling her throat run dry and her skin shiver.
She wasn't supposed to be enjoying it, him. But his eyes and his voice were piercing through her soul, and the combination of both was deadly.
And then he smiled, or smirked or kissed and she was putty in his rather perfect hands.
"Did you take a vow?"
She lifts her head, opening one eye to peek down at him, taking in his new position against her lap. He had moved lower, torso to her calves and elbows by her knees.
"I am sorry?"
He smirks again, and she softly groans at the image. He should never be allowed to.
"Did you take a vow to keep your legs closed?"
"To my Church, yes. I did. I- Is that a problem for you?" She raises a brow, confused and slightly perturbed by his question.
He sighs, drawing her silk gown up her body and grabbing her hips. He drags her slightly closer, hands bunching the cloth around her hips. "Until your marriage?"
"Yes."
"Good." He licks his lips and bats his lashes, that she recognises as long for a strong man. He's built and muscled, but his face is almost too handsome, too pretty.
She shifts her feet, placing them flat against the mattress and wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, fingers scraping at his skull. "Are you not relieved that you weren't handed some cheap whore instead?"
He chuckles, moving away from her hold to rest his forehead against her abdomen, brushing his nose along her pelvis, eyes closed and breath heavy against her skin.
She could quite easily intoxicate him, with her sickeningly sweet smell and buttery features. She could corrupt his nervous system, break his barrier and own him, make him weak, and he would let her.
Taking a deep breath, Jackson leans down to kiss her flesh, lips pressed to the skin below her naval. "I am."
She feels his hands grasp her hips again, and she lets out a shriek when he shifts them, pulling her on top of him. Her eyes widen at their position and he grins, running his hands up her sides and dragging the nightgown up her body.
She slips it off, raising her arms and throwing it down onto the floor beside the bed. Realising that she was naked, April gulps, hands flying to cover her breasts.
She can feel him teasingly pressed against her centre, but she's less exposed down there and she worries more about her chest.
His hands cup her wrists again, roughly, pulling her hands away from herself and keeping them held tight against her side in his hold.
"I am, because that means that I will be the only man to ever be inside you."
She bites her lip then, eyes watching his and glancing down at his chest.
He can't be so terrible. And she is going to have to do it at some point.
Pulling her hands away from his grasp, she rests them flat against his toned stomach, fingertips tapping his darker skin as she tentatively moves her hips. She feels him shift beneath her body, and she figures that she must have been doing something right so she continues, pressing harder into him and swirling her hips back and forth repeatedly, waiting until she gets a reaction out of him.
He grunts, hands blindly finding her thighs and pushing her down to keep her closer, to make sure she doesn't move.
She could do it; intoxicate him, kill him.
"Jesus." April whispers, watching as he does the same underneath her, hips grinding upward into hers as she continues to rock back and forth, applying a little more pressure every now and again. She could do it.
She's the first to lick her lips this time, feeling her chest begin to pant and his uneven breath beneath her. Moving a hand lower, she presses it against herself, noticing his gaze shift from her chest down to her heated mound.
"Christ." He mutters, green eyes squinting as she rubs frantically, and he can feel her moistening against him, above him, over him.
How she could she be real? How could a virgin bride with no history or experience be such a whore?
She gasps when she feels herself throbbing, insides erupting, back arching and neck muscles contracting.
"Look at me."
She obeys, glancing back down to his face from the ceiling and watching his eyes intently. She leans down and presses her lips to his, tongue lapping and teeth shattering.
He moves a hand from her body to her face, cupping the side of her face and running his hands through her hair as it falls. He kisses her back, enjoying the taste and the view and letting her come apart.
When her breathing evens out, she pulls away with a silent sob, eyes tight and mouth wide.
April catches her breath before she speaks again, voice to his mouth and hair cascading over her face disorderly, "Am I a woman now?"
He doesn't reply, instead choosing to bring his hands down between them, untying the strings of his night-pants. She catches his gaze and takes over, hands stopping his own so she can do it herself.
She moves by his side to slip the pants away from him, before she resumes her position above his lap. Glancing down at his length, she's reminded that she was a simple girl with simple needs, and that maybe those needs weren't quite as ready to be satisfied as they thought they were. He was a lot larger than what she had heard her sisters describe of their husbands, perhaps by a lot, on second glance.
"Are you going to spread your legs now?"
She pauses at his words.
Maybe he wasn't so terrible. Maybe he was decent, kind even. He had been perfectly sweet and giving to her already, and she knew that she would have to start giving back sooner rather than later.
"Are you going to do it for me?"
He smirks up at her, hands running up her naked sides to pull her into place above him. She swallows a nervous breath when she feels his tip meet her entrance, her hands clawing at his chest and his fingers finding her breasts.
Within a second, she can feel him in her. Painfully, slowly, and she's unsure if she will ever be able to breathe right again. It hurts, though a little less than she had been told it would.
Nervously moving her hips, she chews on her lip as she moves, knees by his sides scraping the bed sheet. He lets go of her breasts and removes her hands from his chest, instead holding them in his own by the sides of her thighs.
There are no feelings, only comfort-seeking and forced vows, and it's not exactly how she had planned it.
Granted, he wasn't forcing her, or touching her badly, or being rough. He was treating her nicely, softly and she was thankful for at least that much.
"Oh." She whines quietly when he pushes deeper into her, and she lowers herself further. It hurts, but the pleasure slowly starts to override the pain as she rocks against him, hips curling and muscles shaking.
Jackson closes his eyes, the sight of her being too much. He hadn't expected her to be like this.
On one hand, he had been told that he was marrying a prude from the North. She wouldn't do much, and he's most likely have to force himself on her if he wanted to produce an heir.
And on the other end, when he was younger, he was told that he'd be pushed into marrying a young whore.
But she was neither. She was a gentle contrast between both. Her inexperience and voice made her so sweet that he felt like he was tasting the forbidden fruit. But her red hair and pale skin made her much more wild, and touchable, and open to him.
She was neither. She was like a sweet candy with sea salt. She was his.
He rolls them over then, pining her on her back and holding her hands by the sides of her head. He licks his lips as he stares down at her.
She was intoxicating, and he couldn't find it in himself to be patient anymore. She was too much.
Sensing her obvious arousal, he pushes deeper, hips thrusting harder into hers and pressing his whole body against her own. She moans, gasps, when he grasps the back of her left leg, puling it up by his side to angle himself better.
"Fuck." He grunts, mouthing pressing into her beating chest and tongue touching her, the sickly flavour of her sweaty skin eliciting another groan. He knits his brows when she moves her arms around his neck and cups the sides of his face.
"Look at me." She whispers, "please."
He does, eyes watching hers with a soft frown. She smiles and chews her lip when her back arches, teeth clamping down on her lip. Her legs tremble and she weakly continues to let him take her, pushing harder into her for the last few thrusts he gives.
He almost collapses on top of her, holding himself up by her sides as he comes down from his climax, and she does the same, both of their breaths heavy and her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Now I know you're a woman."
She almost laughs, but chooses to sigh with a grin instead.
"Well, thank you."
Jackson nods, forehead still creased as he contemplates something.
"What is it?" She rubs her hands up and down his arms, resting on his biceps and pulling her legs up around his waist, heels digging into his bottom.
The man brushes it off, wetting his lips before he kisses her briefly and moves to stand.
"My Lord-" April sits up, pulling the sheets to cover her chest as she watches him pull his pants back up.
Was that it now? He had gotten what he wanted and he was done?
"It's nothing you should worry yourself with." He reassures her, leaning over to brush a strand of hair from her face, "I have to go do something. This is my problem. "
"And you're only just remembering this now?" She frowns and pushes his hand away, kneeling on the bed and keeping the cream-coloured sheet around her body, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Now that I've bled? Are you going to tell the King that his son's new wife has been fucked? I'm sure he'll be proud."
She sounds bitter, pissed, ticked and he rolls his eyes, pulling his shirt back up from the chair in the corner.
"I'm not going to tell him about this!"
"But you are supposed to! I'm positive the court would be happy to know that the virgin girl let you fuck her! Will they be proud, do you think?"
He tries to ignore her, going about his business and redressing.
"Or maybe you should be the proud one. With that thing in your trousers, I'm sure your father didn't expect any less than a good fucker-"
"Will you shut up?!" He snaps, turning back around to face her. He blankly faces her, eyes wide and she does the same.
Maybe he wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he would be decent. He had been kind enough with her up until now.
Stepping closer to the bed, he leaves his shirt partially unopened as he approaches her and she's suddenly afraid of the man that she had been open with five minutes earlier.
She had rattled his cage, ticked him off. He had snapped. She had made him.
His green eyes darken and his hands clasp by his sides before he touches her, pulling the sheet away from her body and staring into her eyes. "Do you really think that people care about your honour? Do you?" He shakes his head slowly, biting down on his lip for a short second and licking his lips when she gulps, taking an uneasy breath, "I had people telling me to fuck you bloody." He informs her.
April squints her eyes when tears begin to form, taken back by his new demeanour. "What?" She's afraid, almost scared, of him now.
But he wouldn't cause her pain, she was sure of that much.
"They told me to hurt you, and fuck you, and make you mine. And make sure that you knew that. They told me to spread your legs and fuck you dry. And I did."
"But-"
He kind of smirks, kind of shrugs, and looks at her in a way she's never seen, "And you liked it. Didn't you?" He asks in a husky voice, eyes squinted and teeth gracing his lower lip as he glances down at her naked body. He reaches a hand to her neck, ignoring her weak protests and runs his thumb down the front, "You liked it. You liked me, and that thing in my trousers."
He catches her soft blush and continues, moving his hand down her chest, fingers dancing between her breasts.
April doesn't flinch, doesn't blink. She just stares at him, teary-eyed and vulnerable, "I hate you."
"Well, I don't love you either."
She could do it. She could intoxicate him, kill him.
And he couldn't risk that.