The boy crossed the room and presented him with the packaged book. So, Susana couldn’t come. His disappointment was overwhelming. Without looking at the lad he motioned at the desk. The boy placed the book on the table nearby instead, bending down with his back to him.
Surprised and annoyed, he stared at the boy’s backside. No boy this. The pants were much too snug, defining a heart shaped bottom and slim legs. The waist too small, the - she turned with an impish grin.
"Like it?" She turned about, sweeping the knitted cap from her head. A tousled span of gold covered her shoulders.
He threw back his head and laughed with delight, falling into the large overstuffed chair. He patted his knee and she gingerly sat down.
"I won’t break, you know." He leaned back, pulling her against him. He knew about the ball tonight, even who her escort was to be. Some perverse streak in his nature wanted her to choose between seeing him and the ball of the season, between him and his rival. He should be ashamed but he wasn’t. He had waited forever for the week to be up. Then, he’d simply had to see her, today.
At their feet was a fur rug laid over the wool patterned carpet. He deposited her upon it and followed her down. He was a little out of breath. He began to unbutton her shirt, pulling it from the snug pants.
"Are you all right?" She could feel his heavy heartbeat. But he’d removed the offending garment and was pulling her breeches from her hips, the laced ties already undone. She kicked off her rough shoes and lay down before him, a nude display of slim beauty against the dark fur.
His mouth trailed over her, his fingers, teasing their way until they reached their moist destination of curls. He stroked her slowly, increasing the pressure. He wouldn’t hurry. She was here, she had chosen him.
He swallowed, trying to slow down. He removed his shirt, unfastened his pants. Her hand slipped within, covering his manhood. He was hard in the same instant.
He hadn’t meant to do it. He’d meant it to be as it was before, only a threat to her virginity. But then he was between her legs, pushing, and she was heaven.
She didn’t stop him, barely cried out as he made her his. He stopped when he breached her barrier, kissing her mouth, her ears, her eyes. Oh, God, she was so wonderful - and he was her first. He began to move inside her, feeling every ripple of her response to him.
Spurred on by the wonder of her, of being alive, he ground against her, his entire shaft buried within the tight sheath. She moved with him, her back arched to meet him, her long legs wrapped about his hips. The white fire that filled her was his very life, his seed, his being. Exhausted, they lay in each other’s arms. Her fingertips trailed over his back, her nose nuzzled against his neck.
"I love you, Susana. Say you’ll marry me. We’ll have to wait to tell them. There’ll be a courtship and I’ll have to fight him again and - ." He could feel her belly moving as she laughed. He raised up on his elbows. "I’m mightily worn out, my petite chevette." He kissed her nose and rolled onto his back.
They both shown with perspiration. Her hair hung in limp strands. He’d never managed to get his pants entirely off; or his boots. He looked down at his dishelved state. "I must apologize, Milady. I’ll be better prepared next time." He rolled over to hug her and they both broke into laughter again. They lay back onto the fur rug, sated, content in each other.