Her hand slid down his leather vest to the breeches beneath, her fingertips tracing the hard bulge that strained toward her.
Breathing heavily, Aldfrith drew back from kissing her. His gaze ensnared hers once more. They continued staring at each other before Osana reached down with her other hand and began to unlace his breeches.
He sprang free: a hot, hard rod in her eager hands. Still holding his gaze, Osana let out a whimper; it was an animal sound and one that needed no further explanation.
Aldfrith knew what she wanted—what they both craved.
He reached down and pushed up her skirts: the heavy woolen tunic she wore and the linen one underneath it. The air was cold inside the scriptorium, but the sensation of the cool feathering across her naked thighs just heightened Osana’s excitement.
With her skirts about her hips, he slid his hands under her naked buttocks, kneed her trembling thighs apart, and thrust deep into her.
Osana took him in easily, to the root. She was ready for him, and the sensation of his shaft filling her, stretching her, sent waves of pleasure rippling out from her core. She cried out, her body shaking from the force of it, arching up against him.
Aldfrith muttered another curse—one the monks here would blanch at—and ground himself against her.
Osana let out a low moan and bent her head back, letting the exquisite sensations sweep her up and carry her away. Coupling had never been like this for her, even in those heady first days with Raedwulf. She did not know her body was capable of such pleasure.
Aldfrith continued to move his hips against hers, bending his head down so that his lips branded her neck.
Osana shuddered and moaned as he moved up the column of her throat to the shell of her ear—and when he kissed and licked her there, she gave a choked cry, her pleasure cresting once more.
Holding her tight, he began to move inside her in slow, deep thrusts. The pleasure was almost unbearable now. Osana tipped her head forward, gasping his name. She was about to ask him to slow down, so she could regain control, but his mouth claimed hers once more.
This time the kiss was savage, bruising. Osana responded in kind, her tongue tangling with his. He thrust deep and hard into her, pinning her against the wall. A moment later Osana screamed into his mouth as he pushed her over the brink, and she spiraled into a vortex of pure sensation.
She felt him reach his climax too, his muffled cry against her mouth. And then his body went rigid as he spilled his seed within her, the muscles cording in the arms she now gripped.
They sagged against the wall together, the raw sound of their ragged breathing filling the scriptorium. Aldfrith buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing Osana in as he recovered, while she buried her own face in the tousled crown of his head.
“You’re finished, I take it?”
Osana and Aldfrith both froze, their breathing stilling.
A chill stole over Osana’s skin, and she shivered, noting for the first time just how cold the room was. Reluctantly, she raised her face and looked over to the doorway. Framed there, the pale afternoon sunlight silhouetting his tall, spare figure, stood Bishop Wilfrid.
The look on his face made her blood run cold. Mortification flooded through Osana. How long had he been standing there … watching?
Aldfrith raised his head, his own gaze traveling to the bishop. “No,” he rasped. “We’re not … get out, Wilfrid.”
The bishop’s gaze narrowed and he clenched the hands that hung at his sides. “You have defiled a holy place,” he hissed.
“Get. Out.”
The chill in Aldfrith’s voice made Wilfrid pause, and a nerve ticked in his cheek. His gaze, full of outrage, slid from Aldfrith’s face to Osana’s. He then spat upon the ground. “Hore.”
Wilfrid stepped back, drawing the door shut after him with a dull thud.
Osana swallowed the bile that stung the back of her throat. She felt as if she was going to be sick.
Gently, Aldfrith shifted away from her, and she felt his shaft slide free. A pang of acute emptiness followed. She did not want him to leave her. His gaze was shuttered as he refastened his breeches; however, his attention remained upon her.
“I don’t care that Wilfrid found us,” he said quietly. “But Iamsorry that I lost control … I shouldn’t have done that.”
Osana stared at him. “Aldfrith,” she whispered. “I—”
He reached up and placed a cautionary finger on her lips. “Don’t,” he warned, his blue eyes full of pain. “There are no words that can change this. We need to rejoin the others now.”
“But … we need to talk. We won’t get another chance to be alone.”
