“I want more.” The thought escapes me and he smirks against my mouth. “Give me it all.”
Holding me tightly, Ilryth leans forward and lays me down in the sand and surf.
“I have every intention of accommodating your request,” he says. “But all in due time.”
“You are an unbearable tease,” I say with a gasp as he bites my collarbone and kisses down my chest.
“I must admit no one has called me that before.” He lavishes special attention on my breasts.
“I am certain someone has.” My words are breathless.
He makes a show of thinking about it and I groan as his movements stop. He laughs once more and continues showering his affection upon me. “No, I do not think anyone has.”
I am sure I’ll be the first of many. The errant thought is unwelcome and unwanted, though it stays in my mind alone. I do not want to consider just how many countless others will be sure to follow, drawn by his allure and undeniable charisma. I won’t theorize about which of the beautiful women I saw in the Duchy of Spears will become his bride. I can change the future as much as I can change my past—all I can do, want to do, is be helpless to the here and now.
Ilryth continues down my body with eager hands and kisses, pushing up the tightly wrapped skirt, hands gliding over my thighs as they undo the fabric. I groan, back arching off the sand. Just when I think he is about to reach for the apex of my desire, he stops and leans back onto his knees. The only thing that keeps a whine of objection from escaping is when he reaches for the tie of his skirt. He undoes the knot and the skimpy piece of fabric falls away, exposingallof him.
We both get our first real look at each other at the same time. We stay in a moment of mutual silence. Of awe.
Somehow, this does not feel like the beginning of the end for us. Only the former. It is as though, together, we can somehow escape the harsh fate that is inked into our very flesh.
Ilryth shifts and settles atop me. Our bodies flush, I can feel every inch of him between my thighs, pressing against me. Seeking entry without word. A sense of guilt overtakes me; it’s sudden and unwelcome—its root I can’t place. Ilryth freezes. He must see the momentary panic in my eyes.
He caresses my cheek lovingly and says, “We can stop.”
“I know,” I reply. “I don’t want to.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am,” I insist. The first time with anyone is at least a bit awkward. The first time with a man who is not the one you married seems to be even more so. ButI am doing nothing wrong. I remind myself that I am free in mind, in law, and in spirit. I can hardly even remember the bindings that were on me to begin with.
It is as if Ilryth knows the turmoil—every doubt and insecurity—that haunts the seas of my mind. He waits patiently as I work through them all. As I spend my time worrying away my insecurities until, finally, I can give him a nod. The smile he returns is not one of lust, or unbridled passion. Rather, it is earnest, filled with genuine joy and affection.
Ilryth leans forward and kisses me one more time—gently, almost chastely. But there is nothing chaste about the way he rolls his hips, pressing forward and into me for the first time.
I let out a gasp at the momentary pain of expanding to accommodate his substantial size. While I haven’t had much experience in the ways of the flesh, that I can recall, I suspect Ilryth is particularly blessed. He seems to know it, too, as he eases slowly into me, searching my face for any sign of pain or hesitation.
Finding none, he presses forward all the way until our hips are flush and our bodies are one. The sun shines brighter. The chorus in my mind is louder, clearer, as if the universe itself is opening to reveal a long hidden, great secret. I am as light as a song, as intense as a prayer. I relax as the sweet feeling of fullness overtakes me. And then, just as I have grounded myself in this new reality of our own making, he begins to move. Every thrust destroying and remaking my entire world.
His hips pound against mine, slow at first and then picking up speed. I wrap my legs around his waist as I did last night, hanging on to him as though my very existence depends on his. Ilryth kisses me fiercely, lips pressing hard against mine—as though he wants to capture every moan that passes between my lips, exhaling it back to me as a song in my mind. His pace reaches its steady point, stamina unyielding, sending waves of pleasure across my body.
My moans echo so loudly I cannot tell if they are only in my mind or if I am now leading the songs of pleasure sung on this beach. A part of me almost hopes it is the latter. I want him with a desire that is all-consuming. I want them all to hear—for the old goddess herself to look out from her tree and smile that somehow we have uncovered the great secret. Thatthiswas what it was going to take all along to make an offering that could quell Krokan’s rage.
It had to be a duet that would honor—harmonize with—the promise Krokan made with Lellia. Two lovers. Not cold and unfeeling sacrifices. But an offering made of passion.
Ilryth slows and leans away. I look at him, confused and fighting a whimper. He smiles, a wicked glint in his eyes, and leans back. My legs stay locked around his hips and without him leaving me for an instant, he is now on his back. I am astride him. He grabs my hips, goading and guiding me. It is my turn to set the pace. My turn to be in control, and I revel in it. I move fast, enjoying the moans and cries it elicits from him as I do. And then at once, without warning, I stop.
His fingertips dig wells into my flesh as he tries to yank me into him, but I do not budge. My hands splay against his broad, strong chest and I smirk as I rock my hips slowly, purposefully. His head tips back and Ilryth lets out a groan that devolves into a growl. He knows I’m teasing him and he’s relishing it as much as I am.
I repeat—fast then slow, fast then slow. We continue creeping toward the edge of that wonderful sweet release, but never quite get there.
With a frustrated grunt, he pushes me off. I think for a moment that I’ve gone and teased him too far. But his eyes are still filled with lust and intensity. He twists me, guiding me onto my knees and hands. Hands still gripping my hips, he thrusts into me in one fluid motion, taking me from behind as an animal would. Even with holes in my memories, I know I have never felt a man from this angle. I have never known that there were so many ways to feel pleasure—different spots within me that could be struck again and againand again.
And as it is already becoming too much, he leans forward. With one hand he grabs my breast; the other reaches around my hips, stroking at the apex of my thighs as he continues to thrust in and out of me relentlessly, begging surrender. It is too much to resist.
I let out a cry. I shudder and I find my sweet release. Ilryth grips me, supporting me through my passions. His chest against my back. He stays within me as he kisses down my shoulders, moving his fingers over my body as though he is drawing new lines upon me.
When I finally collect myself enough to speak, I say, “That was incredible.”
