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"Ah, Your Grace!.."
The white sheet crumpled under curling, disheveled hair.
Eileen, hugging the lily, raised her gaze to Cesare.
The huge man loomed over her like a beast, and it seemed to her she was about to be eaten.
Especially because of his scarlet eyes shimmering in the darkness with a bright gleam.
He leaned on his hands on both sides of her head, intently looking into her eyes.
The longer this look lasted, the more strongly Eileen was nervous.
In the end, not having endured, she slightly turned her face to the side, but he softly ordered:
"Look at me."
He like no one else knew how to achieve obedience.
Eileen immediately again looked at him.
Cesare, leaning on one hand, with the other was leading fingers over her lips.
The touch of the leather glove caused a strange sensation.
The bedroom, lit only by the weak light of a lamp, was drowning in soft twilight.
While he touched her lips, Eileen's breath became more and more uneven.
When it finally went off, she barely squeezed words from herself:
"You have come?.."
It was a belated greeting.
A timid attempt to hide embarrassment and awkwardness, but, for an unknown reason, Cesare, it seems, liked this.
"Yes."
Slowly he pulled Eileen to himself.
Her delicate skin was pushed into the firm buttons and orders on his uniform.
She instinctively tried to squeeze her legs, but between them there was already his strong thigh, not allowing her to move.
He pressed her to himself with his whole body and whispered into her ear a quiet answer:
"I have returned, Eileen."
He smelled of alcohol.
As a groom, he must have drunk all the toasts the guests offered.
Eileen, having pressed to him, stealthily drew in air with her nose.
The smell of alcohol from her father had always caused her disgust.
When he slumped home drunk, she threw wide all the windows to air out.
But, strangely enough, Cesare was different.
His smell was tart, but with sweetish notes.
Probably he’d drunk much fruit wine.
While Eileen stealthily sniffed, Cesare also took a deep breath, and then released the air.
He slowly lead with his tongue over her neck.
At first he licked and sucked, as if tasting a candy, then cautiously bit.
But even this seemed little to him—he pressed with lips more firmly and sucked in the skin.
Only having covered her neck with red marks did he finally let go.
Just at that moment when he was about to remove the peignoir from Eileen.
*Atchoo!* A sneeze rang out.
Eileen winced and apologized:
"Forgive me, Your Grace."
Cesare laughed, and Eileen's face instantly reddened.
She’d put on this provocative peignoir, and now she’d sneezed and spoiled the whole mood.
After such she can indeed be treated like a child.
He chuckled for quite a long time still.
Cesare, rubbing with his cheek against Eileen's disheveled hair, asked with laughter in his voice:
"Cold?"
"Yes...
But not very!
Just a little bit.
Actually, I'm almost undressed anyway, so there's almost no difference.
I think it's because of your uniform... the orders and buttons.
They are cold." Eileen hurriedly explained.
Cesare, still chuckling, raised himself.
He got off the bed, and Eileen followed him, sitting up.
"You're the first to ask me to undress."
Eileen wanted to object that she hadn't meant that, but stopped.
Having thought, she realized that so it was.
"E-eh... i-in any case, after all we..." She murmured something inarticulate, but in her voice there was not a drop of confidence.
Though she’d prepared for the first wedding night, she had no knowledge.
Everything she knew about intimacy she’d learned from Cesare.
"Undress.
If my wife asks." He began unfastening the buttons on the uniform collar before her eyes.
Starting from the upper one, one after another.
Then just as slowly—the shirt buttons, revealing clavicles under a firm neck.
Eileen ached, and meanwhile all the buttons were already unfastened.
Now before her were his firm chest and belly.
Unlike him, to whom it was all the same that he was seen undressed, Eileen was experiencing this for the first time.
Her ears, peeking out from under hair, were already blazing.
Cesare, looking at the small reddened ears, relaxedly asked:
"Want to touch?"
From such an offer Eileen's eyes became round.
Then her pale face was flooded with color, and she shook.
"Wh-what?!
I?!
You... that is You, Cesare?!"
"Don't want?"
"No, not that I don't want...
Just too unexpected, a-ah!"
He grabbed her hand and himself pressed it to his chest.
Eileen jerked, as if she’d touched a corrosive chemical.
"G-give at le-least a m-moment to prepare!"
But Cesare, not paying attention, began leading her hand over his body.
He made her feel the thick pectoral muscles, lead her palm over a nipple, then lowered it down to the abs.
She felt each relief muscle.
Eileen was forced to feel over his whole upper part of the body.
All this time she fidgeted and murmured "no need," but meanwhile swallowed saliva.
These muscles were created not for beauty—they were forged in countless battles.
And yet they were beautiful.
Feeling under fingers the springy, healthy skin, Eileen thought: *‘Can a male body really be so beautiful?’*
Just as she wanted to slightly squeeze with fingers, she stumbled upon an unusual sensation.
Not such as the smooth skin she’d touched before.
When she understood what it was, a chill ran down her spine.
Eileen grabbed his uniform and completely threw it open.
"Ah..."
Cesare's body was covered with scars.
Cuts from blades, gunshot wounds and even marks similar to lash strikes.
With a trembling hand Eileen touched each of them.
Her nose immediately twitched.
She clenched her lips, but soon her eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't want to bring you to tears." Though her heart had squeezed from pity, Cesare himself behaved as if it were trifles.
He threw off the uniform and lifted Eileen in his arms like a child.
Holding her by the thighs, he kissed her tearful cheek.
"Don't cry, Eileen."
She hugged him by the neck.
Restraining sobs, she suddenly bestirred herself and raised her head.
"Show the lower part."
Perhaps there were even more scars there.
Thinking about how not to allow the commander-in-chief of the imperial army to be sent to war again, Eileen hurried him.
Cesare smiled slightly embarrassedly, but submissively complied.
He sat Eileen on the bed and unfastened his belt.
A metallic click rang out in the silence of the room.
He took a step forward and asked:
"You really want to look?"
"Yes!
Faster."
She was a bit awkward from the fact that his groin turned out right before her face, but she answered resolutely.
And almost immediately regretted it.
"..."
Cesare slowly pulled off his trousers together with the underwear.
When what was hidden under them appeared, Eileen's eyes slowly rounded.
When it fully opened to her gaze, she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.
Tears suddenly vanished.
Eileen suddenly remembered that day in the brick house.
Then Cesare, having brought her to trembling, himself had done nothing.
He’d definitely said then: *[I don't want to frighten you.]*
He’d smiled so meaningfully, as if he were giving her an opportunity to flee before the wedding if she were frightened by what she saw...
Eileen with a pale face stared at the moving stake.
Although she hadn't even touched it, it under her gaze continued to grow, proudly raising its head.
"What, disappointed?" Cesare lazily smirking, and in his voice languid notes were heard.
"You yourself wanted to look, Eileen."