“You feel amazing,” he said as he began to slowly rock against me. “This is amazing.”
I wound my arms around his head, pulling his face to mine.
“It gets better,” I said, tensing my diaphragm, ready to roll further onto him.
“How? How could this get better?”
“Push in deeper.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t, I promise. Push deeper.”
He did, and as I felt him nudge through my inner tightness, I gasped for air.
“Are you OK?”
“Never better. Don’t stop. I never want you to stop.”
My body had ached for William so long. I had craved him. But when I had imagined this moment, I had no idea I would feel this complete, this whole. It wasn’t only that he was inside me, that we were finally physically as one, but he was overwhelming all my senses, like a drug I was powerless to resist. I yielded, completely. I loved him, and I wanted to ride this wave of ecstasy for as long as possible.
It was not to be.
“I’m sorry,” William said, pulling his head back, eyes full of apology. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop it.”
I smiled. “It’s fine, my sweet boy. Fill me up.”
He shuddered into me, his face contorting in pleasure and joy. It was beautiful. As the pulsations ebbed away, he kissed meand collapsed onto me. I wove my fingers into his hair, content to feel the weight of him on top of me.
“Sorry that was a little… quick,” he said.
I giggled. “We have plenty of time. We can go again in a minute.”
“Oh, we absolutely will.” William laughed. He pointed down to where our bodies were still joined. “Should I leave this thing plugged in to recharge, or…?”
I grinned. “Leave him where he is for now,” I said, unable to bear the thought of not feeling him there. “We can rustle him up a new raincoat in a minute.”
William smiled. I kissed his forehead. It was salty and damp with sweat.
“I love you,” I said. I’d never said those words to anyone before.
His eyes searched mine. He leant on one elbow and traced his fingers along the side of my face. “Really?”
“Really.”
He smiled—and I felt complete.
Chapter 40
William
Nothing could have wiped the smile from my face, but Bramley was trying. The coffee was practically strychnine, my dippy eggs were cooked right through, and every time I called his name, I was met with the sharp sound of air being sucked through teeth. If I were a betting man, I’d have said my humble retainer was hungover.
“Fun night in the village, Brammers?” I asked, feeling jovial despite the sub-par petit-déjeuner.
Bramley put the heel of his hand to his temple before responding. “Yes, my lord.”
“Could I trouble you for a couple more eggs, dear fellow? Not that these aren’t delicious, but I’ve got a bit of DIY to do later, and I thought I’d save them to bash in some nails.”
