Blood and Iron Ch. 04

A man's domain. A man's desires. That was what her mother always said. The preachers, too, when she'd found the time for service, warning menfolk of the evils of their lusts, not to covet their neighbor's wives. No such warning for the wives themselves - a proper woman wouldn't lust at all. No more than she would carry iron, or wear blue jeans, or kill a man...she knew she was no proper woman, but the knowledge gave her little guidance, little help. It did not give an answer to the worried question that arose whenever she let her mind drift off into a further fantasy, into the dream she'd entertained that first night at the villa, of his strong and roughened fingers slipping, probing down below into her most private place, thrusting confident inside her. Would he be horrified, disgusted if he should truly touch her there?

She had so far refrained from it, frightened of that very thing, that it would be a final straw to make him touch her where she should not even touch herself. That he would tear his hand away, repulsed, scold her dark and furious, never let her draw his palm again so sweetly on her skin. The mere thought of it was terrifying, enough so to send a shiver trembling down along her spine, enough so that she'd sworn she wouldn't risk it, that she would be content to keep his hand above her waistline.

That was her intention, determined in the sober daylight. Its strength was somewhat waned before the pleasures of their nest, the jigger of bourbon coursing hot and fuzzy in her veins. The want, the need inside her purring so earnest and convincing that she had nothing to be afraid of, that the past few nights had proven he would not reject her. Spinning fanciful ideas as to how it was maybe even necessary, that he perhaps was only waiting for her to bring his hand below, to offer him her womanhood, before he would take it for his own. Perhaps.

Little meaning to the thoughts - they were hardly more than just a feint, distraction from the true assault. Yearning sharpened to the keenest edge by these three nights together, slicing slowly at her fear with every heartbeat. Carving it away to show the trembling of need beneath.

She could barely even feel it now. The dread, the worry - it was hidden in the tender glow of love, the forceful ambiguity of feeling that throbbed inside her soul. Soft and wild all at once, wanting to be cradled in his arms as much as to be claimed, to be possessed in all the ways a woman could be. Whatever ways those were...to feel his fingers squeeze her every inch of skin, to feed the hungry part of her that pulsed and ached and whimpered from the junction of her thighs.

There was just a little exhalation from beside her as she slowly pulled his finger from her lips, left it to lay a moment wetly on her chin. Slackened. Silent. The only sounds were of the night outside, the low rustle of wind and chirp of insects drifting in through the slightly-opened window. Of their breathing - hers a trifle quick. Of her blood, humming eager and excited past her ears as her fingers curled tight around his wrist, gently moved his unresisting hand down again across her body, arousing in its wake a blissful tingle in her skin, an even greater quickness to her pulse as she held it briefly firm above her heart.

Lower, then. At the border that had been a barrier, the slender ribbon of revealed flesh beneath her rough corset. His fingers pointed to her feet, touching just upon the upper hem of her drawers, atop the little ridge of the drawstring there inside. A test, a gamble - and as he still did not object, she ventured further yet, pushing down his hand across the softly woven fabric, along her heated curves to nestle in the narrow pathway there between her thighs. His fingers loosely molded to her mound, encircling her center, the burning core of her desire held so gently in his palm. She could not resist to set her smaller hand on top of his, to squeeze his fingers tight...

A shudder of sensation, aching straight and true along her spine. A gasp of sudden feeling, of swollen flesh abruptly singing in delight, compressed so perfect in her father's grasp. Her legs crossing there beneath the covers, sliding past each other as though to hold him, to trap him there between her thighs as instinct slowly rocked her hips against his hand, as her heartbeat spurred into a gallop.

She could not have spoken now even if she wanted to, could hardly even shape a solid thought for the feeling flooding through her, foreign yet familiar. Alike her guilty explorations from nights lonely on the trail...but this was so much more. Deeper. Real, like a lantern to the sun, like a bucket to the sea, her senses shocked and squirming with the scope of this sensation. Her insides melting with his touch, dissolving to a liquid heat that circulated thick and luscious from the center of her hips, begged her ever onward as she rubbed his hand against her. Slow and forceful, back and forth, feeling wild and slippery inside, the fabric of her drawers scraping subtle at her skin, dampened bit by bit with the trickling of her desire.

Seconds flowed past in this haze of rapture, bliss and yearning mixed in equal measure, blurred into a state of being. Writhing rhythmic with his touch, his fingers stroking at the thinly-threaded cloth, all that now kept his hand from contact with her deepest treasure. A paltry palisade, indeed - it was only a matter of time, of swift and eager seconds, before his fingers found their way through overlapping layers to her drawers' central split, before he was abruptly slipped amidst dewy, tangled hairs. Sensation multiplied a hundredfold to feel him touch at last directly on her skin, to feel his fingers wet themselves along her nether lips...

She couldn't breathe. Didn't want to breathe. Just wanted to dive into this feeling, let it saturate her soul. She even stopped her forceful kneading of his hand against her body, let it just to lay a moment with his palm again cupped warm upon her mons, his weathered fingertips kissed gently to her womanhood, their slightest motion scorching on that slick and yielding flesh. That tantalizing ache inside of her now throbbing at her chest, almost strong enough to speak. Pleading. Demanding. Touch me. Take me, pa, fill me up, make me yours, forever and ever. Your woman, your wife, your little girl. Your little rose.

She didn't say it. The silence there between them still intact, despite the boundaries already shattered. Halfway afraid that words would break the spell that they were under, would wake him from his stillness, make him tear his hand away. There was safety in the quiet, in the dark, refuge from her fear. Room enough to let that urgent instinct rise up tall inside her, to overwhelm hre trepedition and dare to try still closer to her dreams. Her fingers closing once again on his, pushing them to scrape exquisitely upon her thickened, sopping lips, almost shivering against him as the feeling crashed and broke like ocean waves upon her mind. His middle digit dragged sweet and slow along the center of her cleft, tracing at her gateway. She was sealed shut, her thighs still tightly closed around his hand - but all the same, on every stroke his fingertip would tease between her lips for just the slightest fraction of an inch, and she could not resist to push a little harder, to slant his finger further down, grazing ever deeper until at last...

There. A blissful shudder shooting up her spine, a gasping inhalation filling up her lungs as she felt him enter her, his solid digit batter down her gates. Forcing his way further, deeper, slipping inward on a tide of her own nectar. So thick inside of her - even when she'd had his finger filling up her mouth, it had not seem so huge as this, so powerful and strong, her body squeezing open for his passage as she pushed him slowly deeper, inch by inch. All of her awareness centered down in the space between her hips, feeling every line and wrinkle of that advancing digit, a fresh shiver of ecstatic bliss as the subtle rimple of his second knuckle forced her entrance briefly wider. Her velvet petals wrapped tight around him, not wanting to let go...

He was inside of her. The fact of it pulsed hot and dizzy in her mind, luscious as the sweetest fruit. He was within her, they were joined...perhaps not just the way a husband was supposed to be, but it was close, it was so very much alike. It didn't even hurt, the way so many whispered words had made it seem it would - though the pleasure that she felt here had a flavor sharp and raw and aching, a perfect, agonizing sting almost close to that of pain. Blazing like a fire in her belly, tingling beneath her skin. Pleasure locked in an embrace with that deep, compelling hunger.

Even in the almost-stillness of this moment she could feel it looming there before her, the vague and formless chasm for which her instinct cried and pleaded, the mountain that she'd sometimes sought to scale. As close already as she'd ever been, in any of her scattered nights of trying, of guilty fingers touching at her body's secret places. It was a dream now come to life - the dream she'd had not even a week past, in this very room, this very bed, imagining his sturdy fingers driving fearlessly inside her, pushing her into a madness of delight, carrying her across the edge of that welcoming abyss.

An easy thing to slide again into that fantasy, to let its currents guide her. Her hand on top of his, still clasped between her thighs. Extracting carefully his finger from inside her, the faintest sound of suction playing quiet in her ear, vibrating through her flesh. Her channel squeezing urgently around him as though to trap him there within, crying out with loss to feel him slip away...and then shuddering with satisfaction as she reversed, as that delicious digit came driving in again so deep inside her, as the bottom of his palm ground so sweetly on her pubis, as she thought she saw the flash of stars behind her eyes.

Again. Faster. Firmer, just as she had fantasized, his hand so confident and strong, thrusting bold into her depths. Her hips rising up in little circles with every stroke, driven by an instinct that was far louder now than thought. The fire there beneath her belly flowing swiftly in her veins, bright and hazy, trembling and tight...there was nothing like this, nothing in the world. Madness. Joy. A frenzied feeling in her soul, pounding in her heart, clutching at her throat - despite the need for silence, she could not keep herself from crying out, senseless little sounds, incoherent moans and whimpers forced onto her tongue by the pleasures of her father's hand. The warmth and comfort of his body there beside her, her shoulder resting just upon his chest. The scent of him caressing rough across her consciousness, reaching back into the depths of distant memory, sweat and earth. Dust and toil, and the agony of delighted tension pulling ever tighter as she breathed it in, as she half-turned to press her cheek into his shoulder. Complete conviction pounding in her heart - she was meant to be here, at his side. She belonged with him, belonged to him...

"Oh, pa..." The words leaked breathless from her lips, high and helpless. She was near to it now, shivering at the edge of the precipice. Energy poured into her every muscle, trembling and triumphant, wild and uncontrolled - her grip now fumbled slightly at his hand, struggling to sustain the tempo of his finger flickering inside her while her body arched and writhed before the feeling flooding through her nerves, so near now to the summit. All of her emotions blended in to one another, the joy of this embrace, the scorching satisfaction of his touch, the low and urgent need that called out still for more...they blurred together to a single stream, a river running to the sea, sweeping her along within. Drowning her awareness in those waters so intoxicating and divine. Consciousness contracting to just this little bed they shared, to the subtle quickness of his breath, the heat of his body at her side, the perfect pleasures of his hand, squeezing, thrusting, stroking at her garden now saturated with her slickness. "Pa..."

It was a moan, a whimper, a cry. She needed him, his warmth, his presence all around her. Turned over all the way to hold herself against his chest. Their legs entwined together, grinding mad and frantic at his thigh. A bubble glowing at her chest, close to bursting. "Hold me, pa, hold me tight..." Words gasped out like a desperate prayer, her face buried in the scratchy fabric of his shirt. Hoping desperately with what little thought she still could manage, panting, squirming there against her father.

A moment passed, still in his enduring silence. Waiting, straining, dreaming - then bliss bloomed almost painful in her heart as she felt his free arm shift and close across her back, squeeze her tight against his chest. Her body held, compressed so wonderfully against him, her pa, the man she loved...it was in that single moment that the tension snapped inside her, that she crossed those last few inches to the summit of her desires. A joyous shudder arching up along her spine, a flood of feeling and sensation, a high and wordless scream upon her tongue.

There was no more room for thought at all, every part of her resounding with delight, with ecstasy so strong she couldn't help but laugh against his chest, couldn't help but cry. Her fingers grabbing, slipping at his side, her mouth moving without knowing what she said. She could feel him breathing, the lifting of his chest beneath her, and it was beautiful, it was perfect. Everything was perfect. Clutched in her fathers arms as her body shook and shivered with a pleasure far beyond what she had ever felt before. As though the sun itself had come to rest there in her breast, warm and bright and shining, burning off the slightest cloud of doubt or worry. Leaving just this crystal blue of joy, stretching out to the horizon. Love.

She did not know how long it was before a trace of sense returned to her, before she could even recognize the words she murmured fiercely into his neck. "I love you, pa." Earnest enough almost to be a promise - but even so, the statement scarcely held a candle to the blaze of feeling in her heart. It had to be repeated, again and again, just to hold the faintest fraction of what he meant to her. "Love you, I love you, god, I love you..."

Sliding upward on his chest, she blanketed his jaw with tiny, forceful kisses, planted inbetween her words as tears of joy yet glittered in her eyes, on her cheeks. The jagged peaks of pleasure which had towered in her breast now slowly ebbing, melting down into a gentle golden glow. The frenzied fervor of her motions slackened to a quiet, tired bliss, laying supine there across his chest as her scattered kisses gradually slowed, as she tried to find the words for what had just transpired.

"Pa, I ain't ever felt a thing like that before." Her voice was roughened, slightly ragged, trying still to catch her breath. Murmuring into his stern and rugged jaw, feeling on her skin the subtle scratch and tickle of his growing stubble. His hand how resting lightly on her back, gingerly extracted in her paroxysm of pleasure. A heated hardness pressing firm upon her upper thigh...her thoughts were like molasses, running sweet and slow along the channels of her mind. "Ain't nobody else on earth coulda made me feel it, either. I know they couldn't." A whisper, her throat trembling with adoration. Her hands clasped gently on the fabric of his underclothes, briefly resentful of this barrier still holding them apart. She wanted to be naked with him, free, drifting into slumber with his warmth held bare against her. As though they were alone in Eden, free of sorrow, free of shame...

Not that she had much of either, as it was. In the sleepy glow of her release, there was no fear, no doubt, no pain. Just these sluggish thoughts crawling heedless on her tongue, further whispers filling up his stubborn silence. "I wouldn't want'm too, anyhow." Almost humming, purring soft and vibrant as he stroked slowly at her back. "Ain't nobody else out there I give half a damn about. I'm your woman now, pa." Felicity buzzed eager in her soul, just to speak the words, tugging upward at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers tracing down along his chest as she let the notion's taste to saturate her mind. His woman. His lover. His little rose...it was a shiver down her spine, a thrill of soft delight. A giddy whisper breathed into his neck. "I ain't afraid to say it. Not a bit. I'm yours, an' any time you're feelin' like you'd maybe want to-"

"Go to sleep, Alice." At last he broke his silence. Croaked out this interruption as his fingers briefly tightened on her back, conflict harsh and rasping in his voice. No more words than just these four...but the note of hurt that rippled through her could not persist for longer than a moment, evaporated soon away before the love so warm inside her. She felt like sleeping anyway, a deep and comforting fatigue aching soft inside her bones, as though she'd just been hours in the saddle. It was no unwelcome task to nestle closer now against her father, settle in upon his chest. To let the blanketing of sleepy bliss to rise up and surround her, let it shut her eyes.

"I love you, pa." One more affirmation. Once more spoken, murmured quietly into his collar, as awareness loosed its hold and she drifted into slumber.