The journey was a little tiresome. I helped the princess, my now-wife, with some of her bags, as she had not yet brought some; I mean, some were brought and others were not. Anyway, we were at the Lake of Tigris, and the food was still well-prepared. I asked her if she was ready to eat. Most of the chairs set for husband and wife were very far from each other. Like, how did they live and speak if they barely saw each other's eyes while eating? Anyway, I let her sit on one chair on the right edge, and I sat on the next chair that faced the length of the table just next to her. She was a little quiet, but I could notice she was smiling.
"I wrote you letters," I started after taking some bites. The food was mouth-watering; they always made the most delicious foods.
"What kind?" she asked, which made me stress a little. What if the letters never really arrived to her, and I was wasting my time writing, believing that she had received them?
"I mean, this week, before you wrote me back, I wrote to you. I made sure every night I wrote. If it did not reach you, trust me, I did write. I am no liar," I started, fumbling around. One thing I feared the most is my significant other seeing me as a liar or someone not worthy of believing their words. It just felt wrong; I needed to explain to her clearly.
"I got the letters; I loved the way you curved the 't' in them," she stated, looking at me. This was the first time she looked straight at me. She had already changed into simple clothing but still had the gloves on. I loved women's hands; they were soft, and I wondered how beautiful hers would be, as they were slender and long.
"Do you like my hands, or my gloves?" she asked, which made me look up. Yes, we were married, but it seemed more complicated than I thought. It seemed as if we were both in fear of each other's actions. I feared most; I feared I would stand up, and she would hate the style in which I stand. I feared I would swallow hard, and she could hear the lump in my throat from forcing too much to pass onto that throat. I was that scared; I wondered how people in arranged marriages worked. I had known the princess for some time, but it felt as if she still gave me jitters and anxiety, yet she still made me comfortable; she made me laugh, I would say.
"I like your hands and everything," I stated. Whenever someone would ask me if I liked something, most times, I was fond of ending up telling them about how my brother liked women who had certain curvatures and shapes, to the extent he went to our colonies in Africa to set eyes on such women. But today, I needed to be on my best behavior; I needed to.
After finishing, we went for the courtroom doors. Mine was farther ahead on the left, and hers was on the right of the staircase. As we reached the top, I looked at her, my heart screaming at the top of its lungs, and my mind telling me to just take her to my court. I knew if she were to enter hers, my brain would beat me up with the word "failure, failure...", and everyone knew what happened at night. That's why the maidens went to sleep so early, to give us some bonding time.
"Which one would you like us to stay?" I asked, after summoning all my strength and deciding to act like a man. Women sometimes wanted to be led around, as they followed without much questioning. She pointed to the side of my courtroom. It was a little bigger than hers, but it was not installed with as many commodities as hers was. Hers had a lot of girly things, wardrobes, and all that, but we had to understand that this was never home. We were to leave for Wales early this morning or maybe the next, but first thing tomorrow, I would take her to my mother's grave and introduce her. I took her hand, opened the door, and let her in, closing it behind her. Father had truly refurnished the room with nice lighting, and the room smelled really nice.
"Great room," she stated, and I just smiled.
"The one in Wales, you shall love."
"Have you dealt with the Barons?" she asked. It was never really a common thing for men to talk about their troubles and dealings with women, but I felt it was right. After all, I had married her for love, not like father, who just needed to inherit. Father never discussed most jobs with mother, except that of plantations, as mostly mother was always in charge.
"Yes, they finally accepted to give the lion's share that belongs to the King to me, and everything that belonged to him," I stated, and she started undressing.
"Can you help me with the zipper?" she asked, her English accent clearly heard. I reached to her; she was really short when we were near each other. Sometimes I never noticed when we were dancing, but today I did. Her skin was soft; I had barely ever touched a lady, and I hated to admit that. Fearing to have a bastard was one thing that made me never do it. I was scared; I was scared my son would lead the road that I had led, the road of no home and nowhere to call for respect. It is not the easiest road. I was skilled with zippers; I always played with my sisters' clothes when they arrived from the tailor, and mother would scold me, telling me that I would damage them, and my sister would have to wear a normal dress at the ballroom. But she was lucky; she was married right after her first ballroom. Not many spinsters are that lucky. I would have married off the princess right then, but I had almost a lot in mind; it was too much for me, and I would not love to have her face it with me.
I helped her out, and she slid the dress down until it touched the ground. It took me everything to call her name, but my hands did what my brain was not even thinking through. I turned her around to face me, and I looked at her, her eyes soft and innocent, as if she was not half-naked in front of me, and I was still in my suit. Hell, how do I remove this so fast and sexy as she did? But she did not have such an idea; I was thinking through, but her lips made me forget everything I hoped for, and I remembered the little peck I had given her that night in my childhood room back in my hometown. I let my head go lower and lower, and I looked at her eyes; I could not read them, but they were still almost small; they seemed to also anticipate. So, I just crashed our lips. At first, it was slow, and then it was fast; she was also breathing hard, and I could feel she was already losing her grip on the back of my neck, so I decided to steady my waist and carried her as her legs closed around my waist.
I knew the theory, everything. I just needed to make it right with her. The previous night I had restudied everything, I mean everything. I placed her on the big bed, which was adorned with flowers to signify congratulations, and she breathed more, and I breathed just after her, in the same rhythm, and I started helping myself out of the clothes until I was shirtless but had not yet removed my trousers. I started kissing her softly and reached her neck; she seemed already vulnerable under me. It was like she was losing it with me just touching her with my mouth; her breasts were tender, but they were already pointed, and I held one as my other mouth caressed the other. I could feel she was losing it; her legs were moving a little aimlessly, and I slid down to her belly. The books stated that these were the sensitive parts of a woman, and I needed to know hers. I could not underperform, but my own groin was aching. I had not yet released in forever, but I needed to stay right there. The focus was this woman, my woman. I kissed her belly steadily as I let my hand slide and touch the hem of her underwear; she wore white. She liked white, I would deduce. I sat myself up as I steadied her legs to remove them; her parts were full, not full of anything unrealistic, but I could tell she was aroused in all possible ways, and all I needed was to tease her until she would finally tell me yes.
I started with her thighs, kissing them delicately, and the more I kissed, the more fluids she released. The bed was already having a part in what was happening. Her eyes were shut, as if just feeling everything; this is what I wanted forever. I kissed her front vaginal part, and I heard her whimper, and I started collecting her juices. Her hands were already placed on the back of my head, pushing me to do it more. She was really good with her moaning; it just made me want to do her more, and I could feel she wanted more. Her body was already shaking, and her legs seemed as if she could barely feel them. I stopped after cleaning up the mess, but she continued to mess it up more. I liked the effect I had on her, and I looked at her, and she did to me. She looked down at my waist, and I knew what she wanted. I slid to the side of the bed and pulled down my pants and the little shorts I wore. It was up; my parts were not as huge as an African man's, but I sure defeated Amir, and my brothers; that gave me confidence. I was medium-sized; most whites were not blessed in such, maybe the reason why most wives cheated.
I then steadied myself on top of her as I knelt down and brought her body near me using her legs. My rock was steady; it was as if it was waiting for this day, forever. I pushed in slowly, and she whimpered with the slightest of moans. I knew I had to be slow; it was her first time. I just hoped I did not hurt her much. After steadying on top of her, I kissed her softly and started making the strokes as I kissed her neck, cheeks, and any part I loved in her. Suddenly, the only thing that came out of the room was her moans and my grunts. A man was never supposed to make any feminine noises; it's better to keep silent. She started losing it; her body became weak, and she touched my waist as if seeking her release. I steadied myself and became much slower, feeling her liquids embrace me. I also released; it had taken me a while. As I stroked, I would think of foreign cities just to forget how to release. Then all that was left were little whimpers, and I felt I had accomplished my goal. I kissed her as I made myself comfortable at her side, pulling her close to me. Her warmth, I needed. She turned to face me, and she smiled at me as she made her first kiss to me. I had no energy for another round; it was my first time too. One release was enough. I was lucky she too was tired, and we slept quietly and steadily.