“Your praise is extravagant, I think, sir,” she answered him, and then realizing that her arms were about him, she unwrapped herself from him, but he protested her actions.
“I like that you held on to me, lambkin. I think for all your maidenly fears, you know me to be a man who can be trusted. I am not a man who scatters compliments like raindrops. When I offer you praises, it is because you deserve them, Cailin Drusus. You are beautiful. I have never known such a beautiful woman. I will be proud to have you for my wife, and I will be jealous of any man who looks at you, lambkin. We are going to make fine, strong children together.”
“How?” she boldly asked him, surprising them both.
He grinned boyishly. “So you are curious, are you? Then we must continue with our lessons.” Reaching out, he began to draw back the fox coverlet.
Cailin cried out softly, attempting to stop him, but he would not be stayed. The look of awe upon his handsome face, however, when he gazed upon her nudity for the first time, gave Cailin a tiny glimpse of the power a woman holds over a man. He did not touch her at first. Rather, his eyes drank in her smooth, fair flesh; her small round breasts; the graceful curve of her waist; her slender, but well-fleshed thighs; the tightly bunched curls upon her Venus mont.
He smiled, almost to himself, and touched her there with a single finger. “These curls match those upon your head,” he said.
She watched him wide-eyed, silent.
Then he said, “Remove my half of the coverlet, lambkin.”
She pulled the furs back, and caught her breath at the sight. He had called her beautiful, and yet it was he who was beautiful. He had the body of a god, surely. Everything was in proportion; perfect, perfect proportion. There was nothing that surprised her but for the appendage between his legs. She stared at it curiously, touching it gingerly with a finger even as he had touched her. “What is it?” she asked him. “What use does it serve for you? I do not have one.”
Wulf Ironfist swallowed hard. Her curiosity was almost detached. “Nay, you do not have one, but your brothers did. Did you never see theirs?”
“What is it?” she repeated.
“It is called a manroot.”
“And my brothers had them, too? No, I never saw them. My parents believed in modesty. They said a great many of Rome’s problems today stemmed from a lack of morals. They did not believe we should be ashamed of our bodies, but they also did not believe that we should flaunt them lewdly. What does your manroot do?”
“It is the means through which my seed will flow into your womb, lambkin. Encouraged, my manroot will grow large, and hard. I will sheath it within you, releasing my seed. The act will give us both pleasure.”
“Where will you sheath it? Show me,” she demanded.
He bent and kissed her once more, and as he did so, he took a single finger and, pushing gently between her nether lips, touched the entry to her woman’s passage. “There,” he told her, lifting his mouth from hers.
“Ohhh!” she answered. That single light touch had not simply startled her. It was as if something had burst in her midsection. Tiny tremors of sensation pulsed throughout her entire being.
“We have a ways to go before that,” he told her, removing the invasive digit. “I will answer all your questions later, lambkin, but perhaps it would be better if we did not talk so much right now.”
“Why do you call me ‘lambkin’?” she persisted nervously.
“Because you are an innocent little lamb, with your big purple eyes and your naughty russet curls; and I am the wolf who is going to eat you up,” he responded. Then his mouth pressed down hard on hers. He wanted to be gentle. He wanted to be patient. But her nearness was driving him wild with longing. He needed to get on with it, and if the truth be known, the longer he waited, the harder it was going to be on Cailin. Her lips softened beneath his, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She tried to draw back, but he held her firmly.
At first she tried to elude the tongue seeking hers, but he would not let her. She could taste the honeyed mead on his breath, and it excited her. Tentatively her tongue sought his out, joining it in an exquisite dance that gratified both their senses. Her arms tightened about him once again, drawing him half over her, her young breasts pushing up to meet his smooth chest.
Pulling away, he took her heart-shaped face in his hands and covered her face with kisses. His lips trailed once again down her straining throat, moving into the valley between her breasts. When she cried out softly, he soothed her. “No, lambkin, do not be afraid.”
Her breasts felt as if they were swelling beneath his kisses. When he cupped one in his hand and tenderly fondled it, her cry was one of relief. She had wanted him to touch her there. She wanted him to keep touching her there. Her heart was beating so violently that she thought it would come through her chest, but his touch was far more compelling now than her fears.
Wulf bent and kissed the young breasts in his charge. His tongue began to tentatively lick at her nipples, first one, and then the other, teasing the soft flesh into tight, hard spear points of tingling sensation. Cailin’s breath sounded ragged in his ears as he finally closed his mouth over her left nipple and began to suckle strongly. “Pleasure,” he heard her half sob as he moved to her other nipple, offering it the same erotic homage he had offered its sister.
Cailin watched him through half-closed eyes as he worshiped her body. She felt weak with unfamiliar longing, but in her heart she felt stronger than ever before. She realized suddenly that he had swung himself over her, as bending forward he caressed and kissed her torso. Thrusting from his body was … was … his manroot! But it was suddenly enormous. It could not possibly fit within her young body. He would tear her apart! “You are too big!” she cried, her voice genuinely frightened, her palms against his chest, pressing away. “Please don’t! I do not want to do this thing now!” She arched, struggling against him.
He groaned. It was a desperate sound. “Let me fit just the tip of it in your passage, lambkin, and you will see it will be all right.”
“Just the tip?” she quavered.
He nodded. Gently he guided himself with a hand. She was wonderfully moist with her excitement, and he easily fitted himself into her waiting passage. The heat of her flesh welcomed him as she closed tightly about the tip of his manroot. Wulf wondered how long he was going to be able to maintain his control. She was simply delicious. What madness had made him propose such foolishness? He wanted to bury himself as deeply within her as he could. He took a deep breath. “There,” he crooned to her. “That is not so terrible, is it, my lambkin?”
The invasion was a tender one. She felt it most distinctly. The tip of him was stretching her, but it did not really hurt her.
He kissed her lips softly and murmured against them, “If you will let me come just a bit farther, I will give you sweet pleasure.” When she did not answer him, he began to press his advantage forward, moving with delicate, quick strokes within her, while continuing to kiss her mouth, her face, her neck.
Cailin closed her eyes and allowed him his will. Although the feeling was new, it was not altogether unpleasant. In fact she was beginning to grow quite warm, and when she felt her body start to move in rhythm with his, she was surprised, but she could not refrain from the motion. Indeed, as she moved with him she began to find herself overcome with a sensation of overpowering sweetness. It was as if a hundred butterflies were caught within her body. Cailin suddenly took Wulf Ironfist’s face between her hands and kissed him passionately for the first time.