Piano Sonata No. 8, Op. 13: II. Agagio cantabile, by Ludwig van Beethoven.

Amalia's heart had doubled in size and was about to explode in her chest.

She loved this man with everything she had, and she felt like an idiot for resisting him for so long. As she was lying in his gigantic bed while he worshiped her like a goddess, she promised herself never to doubt him again. When he lifted his golden head, parting their lips, his icy eyes pierced through her, and she wondered what she had ever done to deserve him.

Impatient to consummate their love and offer him her body as she'd given him her soul, she noticed he was still dressed. The sudden urge to see him naked, as exposed as she was, overwhelmed her.

She tugged at his hands, still holding her wrists, trying to free herself. "I want to feel your skin against mine," she protested.

His pupils dilated, a perfect black circle surrounded by blue. A euphoric grin was plastered on his face when he moved away from her to stand in front of her at the foot of the bed. With rapid gestures, he got rid of his shirt.

Amalia sat up, her legs dangling over the edge of the mattress, one on each side of him. She examined his body, taking her time. She was used to seeing half-dressed men. The ones at camp never failed to remove their shirts during an arduous task. Even her brothers often did, sometimes in the hope of wooing women.

However, none of them looked like Aiden did.

He was lean, his torso was defined, and his hips narrow. His muscular chest was covered in light blond fuzz, darker than his hair. She dared to put her hand in the middle of it, grazing the sparse fur. There was a large patch over his chest, which then formed a line that went down his stomach to widen right before it disappeared under his pants, hanging low on his hips.

Feeling compelled to, she nonchalantly followed the trail, enjoying the way his muscles contracted at the light touch of her fingers. When she reached the barrier of his trousers, she lifted her gaze to meet his.

He was visibly struggling to contain himself, his jaw tense and his eyes darker than she'd ever seen them. With a wicked smile, she pushed two fingers down under the cloth. She barely had enough time to notice that the hairs became denser before he jerked her hand out. Consumed by need as much as she was, he pushed her back onto the bed.

He impatiently laid her down, wildly kissing her. His hands were framing her face as he devoured her, keeping her right there. The lower part of him was pressed between her legs, and she bent her knees, tilting her hips to accentuate the pressure. She was already feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of their passion, and he wasn't even naked yet.

Because her eagerness couldn't be contained, she sent her hand between them and pressed it on the hard shape at his crotch, molding her palm and fingers over it. He moaned in her mouth and pushed her hand away to take care of the fastening of his breeches. She could feel his impatience in his hurried and clumsy gestures. And she reveled in it.

Never breaking their kiss, he shoved his trousers down, and she whimpered with yearning. Something hard, warm, and unfamiliar, touched the inside of her thigh. When she understood his manhood was free, a shiver coursed up her body, warming her everywhere. Her hands were on his sides, and she slid them down to rest them on his lower back and draw him closer.

This pull she had toward him was extraordinary. She wanted him with feverish intensity like she'd never wanted anyone, like she didn't even know it was possible to want someone. Soon, they would be the closest two beings could ever be. And she couldn't wait for it.

When she adjusted her position beneath him so his hard length would settle perfectly on the part of her that demanded him, he let out a low growl which vibrated against her tongue.

Once he was done removing the last of his clothing, he helped her move up on the bed to settle her higher on the mattress. He then placed himself above her, his hardness against her wet folds again. Curious to see what this part of him looked like, she tried to look down. But he was blocking the view, and she couldn't see past his muscular stomach against hers.

"Aiden, I want to see you."

He frowned, giving her request a thorough consideration. Once his decision was made, he kissed her again. "After," he promised against her lips.

She wanted to argue, but he took possession of her mouth. With a lascivious move of his hips, sliding right against the center of her needs, he robbed her of her ability to speak entirely. The friction on her tender folds sent a wave of raw pleasure throughout her body, making her moan. She tried to feel it once more, moving to rub herself against him. It was his turn to moan. She did it again, and he followed her. They moved together, their bodies becoming slippery with sweat, never letting go of each other's lips. She reveled in the wet sounds that came from their rubbing intimacies, the sighs that were escaping their mouths...

Their moves became sloppier, greed making them feverish and eager. With a groan, Aiden backed up and held her hips with both his hands, trying to fight something within him.

"I need to be inside of you," he hoarsely declared. He didn't move, and Amalia understood he was waiting for her approval.

Her nod brought him great relief, and she caught on to it. He leaned on one arm to make sure he wouldn't crush her, and with one hand between them, he guided his shaft to her entrance. He didn't push himself in right away, and slid the round and smooth shape along her slit instead, teasing that particularly sensitive spot.

Once the head of him was coated with her desire, he settled it lower and pressed in. She felt the instant he nudged in her and tensed, nervously anticipating the pain that would come.

"No, love," he said in a soothing voice. "Relax, open for me."

She tried her best to do as he asked, and he pushed deeper. Aiden was remarkably cautious, moving with gentle care. He kissed her, probably to distract her. And it worked. She welcomed his lips and barely felt it when he pushed further. His hips were rolling in small, continuous nudges, waiting for her to accommodate to his size. It was incredibly odd to have something stretch her like this. It was nothing like his fingers, the circumference much larger. Amalia experienced a slight pain when he reached deeper and winced. He noticed her discomfort and stopped moving.

As she lay there, tucked under his comforting weight, she couldn't help but think of all the terrible things her friends had told Amalia about their first time. It wasn't as bad as she had expected. Not at all. She gazed up at her lover and smiled. With his brow frowned, he looked at her with something conflicted in his eyes. Bending lower, he kissed her forehead, then each cheekbone.

"I'm so sorry, my love."

She was about to ask why when he withdrew before thrusting back hard, making her realize he had only been partially inside of her.

This time, she felt a sharp pain strike her as if she had been stabbed. She cried and tried to push him away, pressing her hands on his solid torso. Muttering an endless chain of apologies, Aiden thrust again, even deeper. Amalia felt like she was being torn apart. A tear rolled on her temple, and when he noticed it, distraught veiled his incredible eyes. He kissed the tear away before thrusting inside of her one last time, disappearing into her entirely. At the sensation of his shaft deeply planted into her, she released a throaty moan, half pain, half relief. There would be no more of him to fit, which was good because there was surely no room left to welcome it. He remained there, unmoving, allowing her some time to get used to the new sensations. She wasn't sure what to do and didn't dare to move, worried it would make the pain worse.

"I'm so sorry, Ama. Forgive me," he pleaded, his voice remorseful. "It was the worst part. It will get better now."

Aiden then proceeded to tenderly kiss her. After a moment, he moved away to welcome one of her nipples in his mouth instead, the warm and wet touch of it making her moan. With the help of his expert tongue, pleasure slowly took over again. With his free hand, he was caressing her skin, spreading shivers everywhere his palm and fingers touched.

Her hands had been fisting the sheet, and she let it go to move them to his sides. With a feather-like touch, she grazed his ribs, his back...

Taking it as an encouragement, he groaned, and his hips rolled slowly with sinuous shoves, filling and emptying her. The pain wasn't as sharp as before, but it was still there. Quickly, she felt uncomfortable again.

"Aiden, wait..." she begged, her voice breathless.

Anxious to please her, he complied and stopped moving. Letting go of her breast, he met her eyes. She was still holding back her tears, which he must have guessed since he swore under his breath.

Lifting himself a little, he sent a hand between them, where their bodies joined. With an experienced touch, he caressed the sweet spot right above where he was in her, sending sensual shivers through her entire body. He kept doing it, granting her more and more delectable sparks, until all notions of pain left her mind. She only sensed the pleasure he was giving her. With a moan, she threw her hips toward him, taking him deeper, wanting more.

For the first time, she could feel beyond the pain, and she realized she could feel his shaft, all of it, inside of her. She pushed again, and he moved with her. Her hands went down on his back, and she tried to pull him closer. She wanted to feel all of him. He complied gladly, his thrusts becoming longer and faster.

They were moving together, their momentum building up. Sounds escaped from her lips, and she couldn't hold anything back. This, the union of their bodies, was better than anything she could have imagined.

Earlier this afternoon, she hadn't known what to expect, but now she knew exactly what was coming. The tension built slowly in her center, and she knew where it would lead. She could feel Aiden over her, inside of her, around her. He was everywhere, their intertwined bodies rubbing together, their moans blending in unison.

The tension at her core was so intense, so good, that it felt as if it were too much. She wanted him to stop, the sensations making her unhinged, but she also knew she'd want whatever was coming.

Never halting the rhythmic ramming of his shaft, he did something with his hand, still between them? The smooth rolling over her most sensitive spot was enough to send her over the edge.

She tensed, pressed her face on his throat, and then exploded, muffling her cries into his skin. Waves of pleasure paralyzed her as she shattered over and over. Her body trembled against his, her arms and legs clutching him tightly. She barely heard his roar, but understood it was his turn to find relief, his hips jerking uncontrollably.

The seconds stretched, their bodies arched, tensed, and pressed together, their breathing hectic, unable to move. After endless seconds of this astonishing communion of their bodies and souls, he collapsed on her, his weight almost crushing. But she welcomed it gladly, wrapping her arms around his heaving form. She felt as though she'd just learned how to fly, and his heaviness seemed to help ground her.

He didn't move until the last tremor passed through him. Then, with a grunt, he lifted himself, pulled out of her, and rolled to the side. He seemed to have no strength left in him, and Amalia loved the fact that she was the one who'd made him so weak.

She pressed her body on his side, reluctant to let go of him yet. He was looking at the ceiling, trying to understand what had just happened. Amused, she kissed his shoulder, and he turned to look at her.

"My God..." he said, astonished. "Ama, that was amazing... I have never—" He couldn't find the right words. So he simply put his arm around her to pull her closer, kissing her forehead with a smile. "You are incredible."

"I barely did anything."

"And clearly, that was more than enough. Next time I should last longer." Next time... Amalia shivered with enthusiasm at the thought. They would have dozens, hundreds of these times from now on. She was to become his wife, after all. They would be united before God, and what had just happened would become a part of their life together. An important one, if she had any say in it.

He squeezed her one last time and rolled away to get out of the bed. "Don't move."

Amalia pulled the covers over her body and lifted herself on her elbows. She watched with delectation as he moved around the room, completely naked, without an ounce of prudishness. As she watched, she took the time to take care of her messy hair, distractedly undoing the braids her aunt had done for her. He spent a moment in front of his washing basin, rigorously cleaning his member. When he came back with a clean cloth and a bowl of water, she shamelessly stared at his groin.

She knew this part of a man became larger and hardened when aroused. Right now, it seemed less rigid than before, but it was still impressive and dangled arrogantly, half raised.

When he came back to her side, she lay down as he pushed the sheets away. He dipped the cloth in the bowl, wrung it, and carefully pressed it on her sore intimacy. The coldness made her jump a little, but she tried to remain still. When he removed it, the fabric was stained with patches of pink. The proof of their union made her ridiculously happy. She was his, and he was hers. He rinsed the soiled cloth and started over. When there were no traces of blood left, he abandoned the cloth in the bowl.

With careful hands, he then took care of removing her stockings, untying the ribbon that held them high on her legs. When he rolled the thin wool down, he revealed the garter's marks, embedded in the skin of her thigh. As if he couldn't hold back, he kissed the reddened spot, and finished removing the garment fully. The other leg knew the same tender treatment. Then, Aiden bent over her, his hands on each side of her, their gazes locked by an unbreakable force.

It had been a very long time since someone had taken care of her like this. For once, she thought, it felt good. Especially when he was the one doing so.

Knowing he would forever take care of her, an irrepressible smile curved her mouth.

A little romantic song, from the composer named after a St. Bernard (don't come at me, this is a joke): Piano Sonata No. 8, Op. 13: II. Agagio cantabile, by Ludwig van Beethoven.