John Thornton, Look Back at Me – pt 19

Warning: Adult Content, this chapter

Chapter 19

     More Then Joy

 

Finding John unwinding from the excitement of the day, lounging across the couch, Margaret curled up beside him.

“Today was so wonderful.  I can’t think of any other day in my life that I have enjoyed more.  Sadly, I think I shall have to be going home tomorrow.  John, thank you for these past days; they’ve meant more than you could know.  They have been the loveliest and happiest days of my life, ever”

“Do not thank me.  I need no thanks from the one I love.  I cannot tell you how it has pleased me to my very soul to have you here.  I’ve laughed more in a few days than, literally, my entire life.  And like you, our time together has meant more to me than all my life experiences.”

Margaret smiled at John.  “You’re going to have to be on your best behavior tonight because sooner, or later, you will discover that Dixon is out for the entire evening.  She will return to my house instead of here.  So, we are totally alone all night.”

His body flooded with warmth at her words.  He knew his control would not last through the night.  His mind started whirling, and he could feel the heat rising in his body.  Damn the proclamation; this chance may never happen for a long time, he thought.  He more than thought – he wanted to act.  He dreamed and hoped that the night would bring him the opportunity to allow Margaret to know herself and feel like a real woman.  John wanted that more for her than anything.  His own ecstasy was secondary.  “Hmm.  This presents a dilemma,” he said.

Again, Margaret was experiencing sensual stirrings that were causing her body to shiver, and this was not the first time since returned to Milton, only a month previous.  She was not so naive as to misconstrue them as anything other than a passion for John.  Against all propriety and a pious upbringing, she wanted him to make love to her.  She knew he could make her feel like the woman she wanted to be for him.  Margaret still held doubts about herself, as she had never known anything different with Booker.  But sensing the differences that her body was telling her, she knew that John was the one to clear all doubts.  Although, just coming out of her bereavement period and already feeling a commitment to John, there was no chance of intimacy tonight.  The possibility of conception was at its peak.  She knew she had to move away from being so near him.  She rose and went to sit by the fire.  “What do you mean by a dilemma?” she asked, refocusing her mind.

“Excuse me just a minute; I will return, momentarily,” John said, as he walked to his bedroom.  He turned up the gas heater so the room was warm and pulled down the sheets.  He came back, passing through the parlor into Margaret’s room.  He ruffled her sheets so it might appear that she had slept on her bed and then leaving, he closed the door.

“John, what are you doing?”  Margaret asked in bewilderment.

As John sat down next to her in front of the fire, he said, “I am preparing for a dilemma.”

“What dilemma?”

“I think we are out of yarn,” he laughed.

Margaret broke into a smile, but it further deepened her knowledge of the disappointment she knew was coming.  She started to rise from the carpet to sit in the chair when John grabbed her arm.

John sensed she was pulling away from him, but this time it seemed serious.  “Please, sit with me, here.  What is wrong, my love?  Are you apprehensive about what you perceive this night could bring to us?  I can remain the perfect gentleman if that’s what you truly want, but please let me be near you.”  John looked over and saw tears welling in her eyes.  Was she frightened of him?  He couldn’t bear it, if she was.  “Please don’t be afraid of me.  Nothing will happen unless you allow it.”

Margaret didn’t know anything else than to be honest with John.  “I am not afraid of you; it’s quite the reverse.  I am afraid of myself.”  Margaret paused, wondering how to explain the rest.  “I am well aware that the Thornton Proclamation is not, in effect, tonight.  I am sitting here . . . very . . . much desirous of you.  But it cannot happen tonight.  I am quite sure that I’m near or at the peak of conception.  I’m sorry.”  Margaret exhaled loudly, finally getting those words out of her mouth.  She was embarrassed about sounding so unladylike, or being too forward and expectant.

John fell back on the carpet, reeling at her words, not so much about the conception, but that she desired him enough to let him love her.  Every day of heartbreak for the past four years dissolved in those words that she had just spoken.  He put his arm over his face, and only pride kept his tears from falling.  It was the epitome of his hopes and dreams.  A word had not been invented that expressed his emotions at that moment.  He was not sure he could withstand the rush of four years of unrequited love, now reversing its course.  If Margaret’s feelings for him in the past had been a drop of water upon his face, he was now standing under a delirious waterfall.

He sat up quickly, took her hands in his, as her tears fell, and studied her.  He looked at her face, her eyes, her lips, her hair, missing nothing of her beauty.  She was his world, his universe, his everything.

 

Can this moment really be happening?

 

Margaret couldn’t understand all that was showing on his face, but he now expressed the most intimate smile she had ever seen, if there was such a thing.  He was in awe.  “John, you’ve said nothing in the last five minutes.  Please speak to me.”

John didn’t know where to begin.  “Those words that you just spoke, and I know they were from your heart, have fulfilled a hope and dream I’ve had for many years.  You are giving me the chance to love you, because you desire ME, John Thornton, a person you hated at one time in your life.”

Margaret flinched at the remembrance.

“I’ve had a ladder to climb all of my life that would equal the tallest building in the world, and I am only a couple of rungs from the top.  And I know the top is achievable, now.  As for the Thornton proclamation, it is now null and void because I know that you love me, even if you are not completely and utterly sure for yourself, yet.  Still, I do not want you to say the words.  And least of all, about your conception worries, let me love you tonight without any concern there.

“But . . .” Margaret started to say.

“No buts . . . Do you trust me?”  John asked solemnly.

“I do.  I just don’t see how . . . “Margaret trailed off.

John searched her fire-lit face for any signs of dissent.  All he saw was a weak smile.  He slowly stood, pulling Margaret up with him.  He looked into her eyes, his heart still hammering through his chest.  “Margaret, are you sure?”  John asked, very tenderly.

“Yes, John.  I am sure.  I’ve never been this sure about anything.”

His passion and want of her lost its long-suffering control.  The brake was released.  He took her passionately in his arms and kissed her sensuously, for a long time.  Margaret clung to him, clutching his shirt, and then finally trusting the night, encircled her arms around his neck.  Without taking his lips from hers, he lifted her to his chest, carried her to his bed, and closed the door with his foot.

“John . . .?”  Margaret said, holding her glance steady in his eyes as their lips parted.

“Shhh, Margaret,” John said softly.  “These moments of our love are going to happen between you and me.  They have been waiting in the shadows of our dreams for a very long time.  I will be extremely gentle with you.  If you say stop, I will.  I will be slow until you show me differently.  He looked deeply into her eyes for any sign of fear; the light was dim, but he saw none.  John gently set her down allowing her to stand.

“Margaret, I love you.”

He lightly moved his finger tips up her arms to her shoulders and neck.  Touching his lips to hers, his fingers slowly traced her cheeks, down her throat and finally to the nape of her neck; he pulled the ribbons and pins from the back of her hair, letting her light brown curls cascade.  His dreams and fantasies were no longer in his mind.  They were in his hands.  She had beautiful, long, full tresses that wound around her neck and down her back.  John raked his fingers through her hair, feeling its silkiness, and pulled it to his face to inhale her stimulating scent.  He held her face and hair in his hands and drew her to him for another long sensual kiss, probing all, stroking the inside of her mouth, searching for her tongue.  Margaret hesitatingly entwined her arms around his waist.  John pulled away just enough to look into her eyes, for any signs of discomfort, one final time.

“Are you very sure?”

“I am very sure.  But . . .”

John smothered her mouth with devouring hunger before she could finish.  His lips were warm and wet and they covered her mouth.  He lightly nipped and sucked on her bottom lip before parting her lips with his tongue.  John was pulling her face hard against his.  He tightened her to his frame, so they could each feel every soft curve and rigidness of the other.

“Margaret?”  He could see her eyes were closed, but she was responding sensually, whether she was aware of it or not.

“John, I am anxious and frightened at the same time.  This has been a very long time for me.  There was very little intimacy in my marriage.  So . . . please John, take care with me.  I’ve had a very sheltered and sparse physical relationship and don’t know what to expect.  I am already more overwhelmed than I ever was in my marriage.  I don’t think I will know what to do.  I feel so different,” Margaret said, with a hushed voice that trembled as she spoke.

“Margaret, I love you more than life itself.  You will not have to know what to do.  I will guide our passionate journey, my love.”  John whispered these words as he wrapped his arms around her and held her for a long time, letting the fear lessen and the anticipation grow.  John knew he didn’t want to scare or spare her.  He swayed and rocked her, there, where they stood.  He would not let it end too soon.

The gas light from the mill yard cast shadows and spilled angles of light into the room.

Still standing by the bed, John began kissing her again.  He teased her with his tongue.  Long slow probes that were making Margaret’s knees weak.  He held her tightly realizing he was overwhelming her, which he had intended.  He slowly turned her toward the light streaming in the window and unbuttoned the clothing that bound her.  He did this as he kissed her, stopping only to place her hands on his shirt, encouraging the same sensual act of removing his clothes.

Margaret began to unbutton his shirt at the neck, exposing his dark chest hair across his broad frame.  His maleness was unfolding in the dimness of the night.  The slowness of this passionate act was building the anticipation, stronger than it had been only a moment before.  She unbuttoned his shirt further, pulling it out of his trousers.  Only recently, she envisioned  this moment.

John pulled it over his head and then turned to Margaret, completing all the fasteners of her clothing.

His body was beautiful, muscular, and so . . . masculine.  She rubbed her hands through his chest hair and circled his flat nipples, stimulating them into a hard bead with the light touch of her finger tips.  He closed his eyes and sighed, almost bringing his own movements to a standstill while he felt her delicate touch to his body.  He couldn’t ever remember being this hard.  Opening his eyes and looking into hers, he slowly slid the dress off of her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, revealing lovely, pristine, translucent shoulders.  He pulled her forward and kissed each shoulder, her neck, and throat, moving back to her lips as he let her corset and petticoat slip from her body.

Margaret was standing there, only in her undergarment, in shyness, with naked bosoms.  John looked down and cupped both of her well-rounded breasts with his warm hands, as he leaned down and gently kissed each one, running his tongue over her nipples.  He loved the fact they were already responding like lush berries, pink, pebbling, and sweet.  He breathed in the scent of her.  He was on fire.  He could feel her feminine shivers as he moved from her breasts.

He took Margaret’s hands and brought them back to his trouser opening.  She found all the closures, and she could not miss the hard ridge that was lying beneath.  She trembled at his size.  His manhood was . . . He was a big man in all his attributes.  She wasn’t sure how . . .

His trousers dropped to the floor.  He stood in his undergarment and she stood in hers.  John gently removed her undergarment slowly and then his own, freeing his erection.  He sat on the edge of the bed, and drew her in front of him.  With the pale light of the outside gaslight casting its light upon her, with her ivory cream skin, she was the most beautiful creature his eyes had beheld.  He moved her back a few inches so he could take in the whole radiant image of her femininity.

Margaret was quaking with her own shyness.  “What does he think of me?”  She trembled.

Holding her arms out to the sides for her, he said, “Margaret, you are exquisite.  You are perfect and lovely, and soft.  You are more beautiful than I dreamed.  You are the closest I can get to heaven, while here on earth.  I have imagined this moment for years.  God help me to be the man worthy of the woman who stands before me.”

Margaret, having been holding her breath, now exhaled a loud sigh.  She felt relief from John’s most beautiful words.  “I am here because I want to be with you, she told him.  “I want to know you; I want you to hold me, and I want to feel your body and to feel your breath upon my face.”

He kissed her almost translucent skin, circling her nipple with his tongue before drawing her into his mouth with a strong but gentle suckling.  The taste of her was sweet as honey, and she started to sigh softly, while wavering on her feet.

He reached for her and pulled her down on top of him, as he lay back on the bed.

Lying on top of John, she was very aware of his erection.  Margaret felt the heat stirring her own womanly area as he pressed against her.  He adjusted her so that his hardness was pressing into the notch of her thighs.  She was always inhibited with Booker when they were naked, even in the dark.  She now felt nothing but the need of John and his firm lean body touching hers.  Two naked lovers were casting shadows against the wall for the very first time.

John sensing that his own firmness was losing control, rolled her onto her back, so he could look into her face and kiss her again, but he knew he had very little time left before he erupted.

“Are you sure about the conception?”  Margaret asked softly, still unsure.  “I trust you, but how can you stop now, or me, either?  I’ve never felt these sensations.  I don’t know how to bring them down.”

“You won’t have to, and I certainly won’t let you.  Give yourself to me without any fear.  I have waited an eternity for this moment.”

“I want to give myself to you, but it’s the wrong . . .”

“No, my love, there are no wrong times.  These ‘times, that you seem embarrassed about, make you a woman, and I love you because you are this woman.  God has brought you back to me.  We will be united as one in the future, but not tonight, and neither of us will be disappointed.”  He turned her wet simpering face towards his.  “Look at me.”  He knew she would soon find solace.

“Give me your hand, my love . . .  Keep looking at me.  I want to look into your face.”

John took her hand and slowly guided her toward his erect penis.  “With your warm hand, just hold me and feel me.  That is the only passion that I need right now.”

Margaret, timidly, took John into her hand, grasping the firmness of his manhood.

John inhaled loudly.  “Oh dear God, Margaret,” he barely whispered.

Feeling his length and girth, and smoothness, she slowly started to stroke him, even though he hadn’t asked for that.  She sighed at first and then trembled over his size.  John, struggling for concentration, was looking at the uninhibited innocence on her face as she touched and caressed him.  Margaret watched as he slowly closed his eyes and shuttered heavily against her, gasping deeply with completion.  She felt the flood of his warm release.

With misted eyes, John hugged her tightly.  “How I’ve longed for you to touch me in that way.  Thank you,” he reverently whispered into her ear.

Margaret wrapped her arms around John, loving the fact that he reacted to her with his manhood.  “Thank you, John, for responding to me in that way.  I feel . . . well . . . I don’t know how to explain how I feel . . . needed.  Perhaps, I feel needed or wanted, as a woman, to bring you to that act.  It was so fast.  Could I do better next time?”

“That was fast for both of us, but it’s only because I have wanted you and needed you for four years.  There was love from both sides, and that never warrants regrets.  We will learn together, since I will need and want you for the rest of my life; this will happen again.”

Margaret kissed him, but he pulled her over on top of him again, and they kissed for a long time.  He slid his hands up and down her smooth back and buttocks, just feeling her fevered skin and soothing her emotions.  She could feel that John’s arousal was returning.  She lifted herself up on her elbows and said, “Maybe, it’s best if we stop now.”

John held her fast, not letting her go.  “Oh, no . . . not yet.  I’ve only just begun.  You are staying in this bed all night.”  He gently turned and laid her on her back.  He lingered over her, kissing and licking her face, while he parted her legs slowly with his knee, determined to show her pleasure.  He was going to explore and enjoy every part of her body.  “I want to know all of you, Margaret, the feel of you, the scent of you, and the taste of you.  My hands and tongue have been waiting for the discovery of every texture of you, from head to toe.”

John began very slowly letting his hands and tongue, cover all of her.  Margaret started wincing beneath his touch, to some extent from embarrassment and partly from ecstasy.  Her sheltered life had never prepared her for this.  “Oh John,” she murmured.  She felt like a thunderbolt was starting to travel through her body, searching for a release to the outside, as his hands roamed.

He began his soft kisses around her neck and down to her breasts, already hard with anticipation.  After licking and suckling at her breasts, he continued down to her abdomen, circling her navel, while his hands now glided from her breasts to her inner thighs.  He encouraged her slim thighs to open for him, to welcome him into their embrace.

Timidly responding, she felt exposed and helpless, about to burst into flames.

“How long can I bear this . . . this . . . ?” she moaned.  It did not matter, for he was not going to stop.

“Just let the sensations happen; just let go,” John whispered.

Still kissing her lower abdomen, his gentle hand stopped at her soft mound.  His finger entered her.  First one and then another.  He loved hearing her moans and her rapid breathing.  His slid his wet fingers out of her sheath and found that most sensitive area of her, and started to massage her delicately, like butterfly wings’.  He knew this was going to cause the greatest response.  Her legs started to tremble.  She was too close, so he stopped for a moment, watching her body yearn to go on.  She started to arch her back.  John wanted to sustain her pleasurable torment a bit longer.  He could feel her sensual desire rising, so he held her writhing hips and legs tenderly, readying them for his sensual assault.

Her consciousness started to reel out of control.  She was shuddering on the brink of . . . what… she didn’t know.  “What’s happening to me?”  John heard her gasp.

“I am loving you, Margaret.”

She quieted down, but John could feel her body shaking violently.

“Margaret, don’t hold yourself back from me, release your feelings.  I love this as much as you do.”  He had wanted to give, only her, this pleasure.

John lightly parted her soft mound with his tongue.  He had waited a long time to pay this sweet tribute to her femininity.

A startled cry tore through her when he claimed her with his mouth.  He knew to be as gentle as possible now.  Tenderly exploring her folds, his slow tongue swirled and licked, and stroked and savored the sensitive area at the top of her cleft, wanting to send her over the edge.  He gently circled the outer rim of the soft entrance to her body.  Returning to her sweet erect womanly nub, he could feel light throbs there as he paused; they matched her rapid heartbeat.  He knew she was there, teetering, where he wanted her.

Margaret would have screamed from the wildfire running through her if she had any breath, as everything seemed to center on that one single spot.  She could feel his wet hair lightly brushing the insides of her thighs.  Her back bowed in agonizing pleasure.  She was the tempest to his calm.

“Joh . . .”

John knew she was existing only through her physical sense at this moment, and he was controlling her.  She was heavenly in her responsiveness.  She was fire beneath him.

He was dispatching her to luscious torment.  “John,” she cried out, piercing the silence, as she was consumed in sensual swirls sweeping her upward to the pulsating darkness at the top of the unknown.  Her body clenched unbearably and tightened, and John held her down with his mouth.  She cried for mercy, but John had none.  The sensual tension became tighter and tighter.  She couldn’t breathe, and her heart was beating so rapidly, she was beyond caring whether she lived or died through this.  She could not hold on any longer, and it suddenly snapped.  She heard her own blatant cries and moans, disbelieving they were coming from herself.

Margaret split the silence again with her exquisite sounds of euphoria.  “Dear God, John!”

John heard her loud cry and felt her body quake and her muscles quiver.  He allowed himself a smile and only a few brief moments of breath before he started again.  He did not want to stop.  He felt her hands tighten on his shoulders, and her nails dig into his skin.  This moment was so spectacular; he loved giving her this pleasure.  She found his hair and pulled it, trying to coax him away, but he wouldn’t stop.  He wanted so much to hear her sounds, to listen to her continued moans, to feel her legs tremor and spasm.  He climaxed again only from the pleasure of feeling and listening to her.  John wanted to enter her so badly, but he knew he could not.

“Joh . . . Joh . . . John . . . I’m . . . going to . . . faint . . .

He pulled himself up to kiss her neck and shoulders, and cheek, and held her while she quivered and cried as her orgasm floated her back to consciousness.  He almost cried himself for this most precious of moments.

“I didn’t know . . .  I had the capability to feel whatever that was, in every muscle, and nerve ending, “Margaret said between gasps for air.  “I can’t stop crying and I can’t stop smiling from the miraculous feelings.  John, you have brought the dawn of an awakening to my womanhood.  I thought I was being driven mad until . . . until I  . . .

“You climaxed, Margaret.  It’s called an orgasm, apparently your first, and you don’t know how happy, as a man, it makes me feel to be the one to bring that to you.  I once hoped to be first in your life for that experience, and now I find that I am.  I’m afraid I am going to weep, myself,” John said ardently to her.

“I have never experienced this, or anything close to it, before.  And just when I thought I was falling gently back to earth, you brought it back again, leaving me unable to breathe.  I think I was on the verge of a delirious faint.  John, I felt your passion run all the way through my body; every fiber was on fire. All worry and embarrassment was gone, until I just burst inside.  I didn’t want you to stop, but I just couldn’t take the pleasure anymore without fainting.  I feel so selfish.

“Margaret, you are a woman in every way possible and thank you for allowing me to show you that.  I was taken away with your rapture, by your response to me.”

John held her close, both their hearts racing because of the physical action, but more obviously from the emotional connection they had just shared.  These were the most wonderful moments of both of their lives.  It ended all too soon, though.  It wasn’t all it would be someday for both of them, but it is everything right now.  He had taken Margaret to the edge and caused her to fall into ecstasy.  He had never wanted this kind of exalted pleasure with anyone else, and had never felt this gratification, so overwhelming to him.  John realized that this union, this evening, had brought to him the most aspired moment in his manhood: His ability to carry Margaret to the zenith of her orgasm and hold her there, giving her all she could take.

 

She is a woman, and she is mine.

 

“John, I don’t have the words to describe what you caused to happen to me.  I’m sorry that you could not engage in it the way you would have wanted to do,” Margaret said, feeling her breasts heave as she struggled for air.  I’m not sure I would have permitted it, had I known the immeasurable pleasure that I would be receiving, and you with none.

“Margaret, I would not have exchanged my own pleasure in this for anything in the world, except more of it.  You cannot know the emotional climax I have experienced.”  John held her tightly.  “Someday, we will have a life full of this, you know.  I just want you in my arms every minute of the day.”

They lay together in silence letting their luxuriant feelings ebb.

“Margaret, you are positively glowing,” John said, as he watched the light streaming in on her face.  “And we still have the whole night ahead of us.”  Although she couldn’t see it, she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I wonder how long this floating feeling will last.  I feel like I have wings.  I would have it forever if I could, but John, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, you can.  Never ask if you can ask me.  Whatever is on your mind, I want to know all about it.  And yes, you can have it forever.  That’s certainly my intention.”

Margaret looked rather embarrassed and in hushed tones asked, “Was that legal?”

John, trying to be a gentleman and a sensitive passionate man, couldn’t help himself, but nearly came off the bed, bursting with laughter.  He should not laugh but he was so happy, and it was the perfect finish to their first hour of the night.  “Oh Margaret, my love, how innocent you are.  Magistrate as I am, let me put it this way:  Whatever two consenting adults want to do in their own privacy is legal.  The key word, of course, is consenting.  But yes, it is legal between two people who love each other.  Why?  Do you wish to file a complaint to someone?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes? . . .  You do?”  John almost gulped.

“Yes.  Why have we waited this long to be together like this?  I wish you were the first man to take my virtue, but then again, I wouldn’t have known what an extraordinary lover that you are.

“And Margaret?”

“Yes, John?”

“It gets better!”

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