Moving.
A strangled sound came from my throat. “My husband.”
The noise he made sounded just as strangled as mine as he started to move again.
“My husband,” I called him again, clawing at his heart even harder.
“My wife.” He rammed me harder.
“Ah. Ah. Ah.” My voice quivered along with the rest of me.
“You will come to menow,” he commanded.
He started moving harder, faster, and that pulse between my legs couldn’t keep up. I gave in to him with a cry that tore from my chest, meeting the growl that came from his—something touchable, physical, visible, that could be caught if fast enough. It seemed to linger around us, smoke after fire, as he filled me up with his seed.
It took him a few seconds to catch his breath. My lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen, and I was so sensitive to his touch, when he pulled me close to his chest and kissed me, I orgasmed again.
My body felt like it had been transported to a place where my eyes couldn’t open.
“Mywife,” he said, and I unconsciously set my hand over his heart. “Mywife.Myheart.Myside.Mydirection.” He stroked my skin, from jaw to neck to breast, and when his fingertips danced over my aching nipples, I trembled like a house in the grip of a powerful storm, quaking over his cock for a third time.
He started to kiss me again.
Love me again.
My body went instinctually to his and his to mine. We moved in tempo. Like our bodies were synchronizing. And even though I was new at this, he was building my stamina, his body teaching mine how to allow a moment to linger—to draw out the moment before,finally, thekiss. Sometimes my body had a mind of its own, though, and demanded to be set free from desire. I squirmed and clawed and couldn’t contain the amount of want inside of me for my husband.
This...insane crave went on for days and nights.
This new claim we had on each other. And I understood why he’d chosen this place to begin with. It had no windows, only the soft light of the fireplace and candles allowing us to see only each other through it.
I wasn’t sure what day it was.
I’d lost all sense of time.
And I realized… he didn’t want to let go of those new moments as husband and wife either. It was him and I, nothing breaking our wedding night.
Not the day.
Not the time.
Not even people.
Our claimed spot in the world became our eternal wedding night. All the food and drink we needed was with us in a separate area of the suite. We ate in bed, feeding each other, exploring every inch of each other.
We barely bothered to bathe or shower.
It was like we were purging ourselves of anything but each other.
The spell we had over each other couldn’t be broken in this room.
If we were not touching, we were kissing, and if we were not kissing, we were entangling our limbs which led to touching and kissing, licking and sucking and biting and constantly comingapart at the seams, only to repair ourselves, stitching each other back together with…each other.
I couldn’t remember light.
I didn’t care.
I couldn’t remember how clothes felt.
