Seriously, he wastotallyandcompletelyasex god.
He didn’t even clean up before he was down again on his backin the bed, and he had to give barely any guidance with his hands before I wasswinging a leg over his head in order to ride his face.
And serious to all the gods in two universes, he was good atthat.
He left me, drained from two huge orgasms, full ofchampagne, wine and the best meal I’d ever consumed, in his bed in order to goto his dressing room and clean himself up.
He blew the lamps out on his way back and joined me in bed.
Gathering me close, drowsily, I called, “Loren.”
“I have come to the conclusion, my love, that the trials weboth faced to be in this bed together were the tribulations we needed to pay toearn what we have right now, and the beauty we will build for our future.”
I closed my eyes tight.
But he wasn’t done gutting me.
“And as such, I’d do it again,Satrine.All of it.Again and again.”He squeezed me tight.Tighter than wascomfortable.It was sheer beauty.“If this is where it leads me.”
“Be quiet,” I begged.
His arms loosened.
“I speak truth,” he whispered.
“You’re killing me,” I mumbled.
“No, darling, finally, we both are living.”
Oh my gods.
Yes.
He was killing me.
In his rooms, Loren had two window seats.
They faced the park.
And once he was asleep, his breath evening out, his arms notholding me quite so close (but they didn’t let go), I gave it time, and thenmore, to make sure he was out.
Then I slipped away from him, pulled on his dressing gown,and padded to one of those seats.
I curled into it and stared at the park.
I was a lie.
I wasn’t a virgin.
I wasn’t a count’s daughter.
I didn’t have a sister.
I didn’t know but considering what a big deal it was and howmuch havoc and heartbreak it caused over centuries in my world, evidencesuggested that in some situations, a dude having a bride who was a virgin was abig deal.
I could fake it, of course.Not everyone had an intact hymenwhen the time came.Shit happened to break it along the way.I could talk myway around that.
But it’d be a lie.
