Free Stephen’s Bride by Callie Hutton

don’t know what you mean,” she gasped. “I don’t know what to do.”
    “You’re doing fine, baby. Just fine.” He took her hand in his and moved it to his erection. At first she pulled her hand back, then wrapped her palm around him, and he almost exploded.

Chapter Seven
     
    Calliope allowed Stephen to move her hand up and down his . . . well she didn’t even know what to call it. However, this did not seem the best time to ask for an anatomy lesson. Whatever its name felt soft and hard at the same time. She ran her thumb over the tip and sensed a bit of moisture. Before she could question him, he moved his mouth from her breast and rose over her.
    A black curl fell over his forehead which she brushed back. His fingers continued to give attention to her woman’s place. “You are a virgin, I assume?”
    “Of course!” Whatever made him ask that question? Weren’t all properly brought up young ladies virgins until their wedding day? Of course the fact that she was well beyond her wedding night was pushed to the back of her mind.
    Frankly, she was tired of holding him off. The restless sleep she’d suffered had a lot to do with his kisses and touches before he scrambled from the kitchen. Perhaps allowing him his husbandly rights would not change things, and not make him try to control her. She could enjoy the experience and not relinquish any of her independence.
    Yes, she could.
    He smiled down at her. “I didn’t doubt it, but I don’t want to hurt you either. The first time can be painful. Short, but nevertheless you will feel me break through.”
    Lord, why hadn’t her mother talked to her about these things? No doubt most mothers waited until their daughter’s wedding to bring up the subject of married love. She turned her head aside. “Just do it.”
    He chuckled. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m not interested in any sacrificial virgins.” With that comment, he used his thumb to circle her opening and once more moved down to suckle her breast. The fire was certainly doing its job. She was very warm now and felt achy and swollen where Stephen suckled and circled. The pull on her breast went straight to her core, making feel restless, like something was out there that she was missing.
    While Stephen was busy pleasuring her, finding places on her body she never knew were sensitive, she used her hands and mouth to imitate some of what he was doing. She found a great deal of enjoyment in touching him, feeling the differences in their bodies, the texture of his skin, his hardness where she was soft. She particularly liked running her fingers through his hair, liked the feel of its silkiness.
    He raised his head and stared into her eyes. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted you, my beautiful wife. From the minute you stepped off the stagecoach in Bartlett Creek, I’ve wanted you just as you are now, naked, and writhing underneath me.” He moved his hips so the swollen part of him nudged her. “Do you feel what you do to me? How much I desire you? How much I want to bury myself deep inside your body, watch you come apart in my arms?”
    His words floated over her as the spot he was concentrating on began to tingle, making her push against his hand, looking for the relief she knew only he could give her. “Please,” her legs shifted, “please make this stop, or make it finish. I feel as though I’m missing something.” Her head moved back and forth on the carpet, beads of perspiration gathered on her upper lip.
    “Shh, sweetheart.” He kissed her closed eyelids. “Just relax, let me help you.”
    She was almost there—where she didn’t know—but knew somewhere out there she was headed toward completion. “Stephen, please.”
    “Relax, love. Don’t try so hard, let me do the work.”
    There were no sounds, no smells, no feelings except those between her legs where his fingers played, like a fine instrument, her body tensing, then relaxing, trying so hard to . . . The tightness in her