‘If I ever think to get the shutters on these windows repaired,’ he breathed, licking his lips, that little dimple above his mouth teasingher. ‘Please remind me of what a foolish notion that would be.’
‘Certainly, husband,’ she said.
Why…
She wasn’t entirely sure. All she knew, was that she felt the impulse, and Thorn certainly seemed to appreciate,eyes flashing wider for a second, before his jaw tightened determinedly.
He stepped forward, but Hypatia was confused when he then leaned down to his left; at least until he slid a case she recognised well from under the mattress, and tossed it on the bed beside her feet.
‘Any preferences?’ he asked, raising a brow. ‘Once I’ve ensured you’re positively dripping with need, of course.’
I already am, but perhaps I am mistaken, Hypatia thought, shivering against her will, swallowing hard, the way he spoke, his presence, his beauty and that terrifying, screaming need she had for him, conspiring to make her behave and react in ways she never had.
He accused her of commanding him, but she found, he commanded her body just as frighteningly; he scared her just as much for how everything within her clamoured for him to touch her again.
‘Once you’ve assured yourself of my readiness, we can discuss,’ she managed to get out, and if it sounded breathy, well, she didn’t rightly care.
A quirk of his head in assent, and he was kneeling before her, then sliding his roughened and deliciously calloused hands up her legs, from ankle to knee, where he grabbed hold, and slid her back towards him, until her bum was just on the edge of the bed, her quim was in his face, and then his hands slid up the tender inside of her damp and sweaty thighs, and he spread her legs even further apart.
He inhaled deeply of her scent, while she scrambled to inhale at all, his eyes drifting closed for a moment. Then, having taken what he would, he held her right leg where he wished for it to remain, resting his other arm on her left thigh, curling his hand around so he could spread her intimate, already drenched anddripping lips apart, and without further preamble, licked her in one wide and masterful stroke from cleft to bud.
Hypatia’s shoulders slid forward as her back bent upwards, and her toes curled, and everything tightened deliciously.
‘Damn it, Hypatia,’ he gritted out, the vibrations tickling every already sensitive nerve. ‘I’ll not last long with you tasting like this.’
‘Who said you had to?’
Another growl was his answer, and Hypatia found that when Thorn set his mind to do something well, he did so, a sense of time-pressure adding to his focus and mastery.
He remembered every spot she’d shown him previously, and laved succinct, but lavish attention on it, swiping, licking, and teasing with flicks and grazes of teeth. He explored every part of her intimate self, whilst she fought not to buck and move too much; clenching, and tightening her belly as she waited for his next move. He kissed, and delved deep into her, drinking and making the most otherwise disturbing noises, which somehow made her pant and moan even more. He brought her to the very edge, and the blasted man knew it, for he stopped, and rose to his feet, and she gazed up to find him waiting for an answer to her previous question.
In response, she slid back up the bed whilst he found the preventive case in the mess of bed linens—a miracle in itself—and covered himself. When he had, she turned over, the coverlet scraping tantalisingly at her sore and peaking nipples and tender flesh, and tucked her arms beside and somewhat beneath her, knees nearly to elbows, and slightly spread, and waited.
Another pitiful moan escaped Thorn, and she grinned, her cheek flaming against the bed, which dipped without much ado as he clambered on.
‘You’ll be the death of me, woman.’
‘Only a little death.’
And then he was cursing, and right behind her, tucking himself against her flesh in every way possible, and she managed to get in one stilted breath as he filled her, and took hold of her hips in one spectacularly smooth and determined move.
Closing her eyes, and letting herself fall into this dizzying, mind-splitting, and mouth-watering connection and incandescent compatibility, Hypatia clenched and released him inside her, moving with him, yet trusting his hold, his control, his everything.
She breathed in the old coverlet, and his sweat, and their scents, as she scraped and slid against the bed, his grunts and sounds of approbation and pleasure true music to her ears.
‘More,’ she breathed, feeling his nearing his own peak.
So he grasped her tighter, not shifting his position, but pulsing into her harder and deeper, before finally one of his hands did shift, following the dripping trail her body gave him, and he found her bud, and then she was muffling screams by twisting her head into the coverlet, and grabbed it tightly too.
The most incredible pleasure she’d ever reached, by her own hands or another’s, blinded her; sending stars and dancing magma into every corner and reach of her. And with a few final thrusts, Thorn surrounded her with his body, having reached his own height of pleasure, and once he’d released himself into the preventive, encircling her with his arms, he guided them into a side and backwards tumble so they could lay back to front, and catch their breaths.
‘That was far from a little death, Hypatia,’ he chuckled lazily after quite a few minutes recovering, sliding the rest of the way out of her.
‘Yes, you’re very good at that,’ she grinned, and he chuckled again.
‘Happy to serve.’
They remained there a few minutes longer, at which point Hypatia’s last echoes of pleasure had dissipated into chill, and she began to feel the stickiness, and the sweat, and the heat of Thorn’s body, and feel all of it in a way she didn’t like. For though she enjoyed sensual encounters, she’d discovered early on that there was something about theafter, about the reality of others’ bodies and her own, which was entirely uncomfortable, and marred the entire preceding experience if she didn’t separate herself from it. And much like with the hand-holding or touching, Hypatia had never really found but that she slept worse with someone else in her bed or chamber; that more generally she was entirely happy and more comfortable in solitude than in company of any sort.
