Chapter 32 #2
It seemed like a glorious eternity of absolute euphoria before the sensation began to ebb, the pleasure releasing her body from its potent grip. But this time, unlike the last times, she knew it didn’t have to end there.
“I want you,” she panted, dizzy with satisfaction.
He kissed her stomach, a sly grin on his lips as he looked up at her. “Ye do?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, Hunter.”
“Beg for me,” he urged.
He withdrew his fingers slowly and began to move back up her body, his lips trailing kisses across her feverish skin.
“Please,” she moaned. “Please, Hunter. I want you.”
“How much?”
She bit her lip, her hips bucking as if she could draw him into herself through sheer will alone. “All of you. I want all of you.”
As his lips took hers again in a deep, sensual kiss that kept the inferno of her desire burning, she finally felt him brush against the sodden peak between her thighs, gliding through her folds, a slow back and forth that stoked her craving to new heights.
A friction like striking a match, igniting a fresh blaze that made her breath catch and her heart thunder in her chest.
“Beg,” he repeated in a whisper, his mouth catching hers in a passionate graze.
“Please,” she managed to whimper when he stilled at her entrance, the pressure mounting.
Then, with the slightest tilt of his hips, she parted for him.
“Oh, fuck… Oh… Oh, Hunter!” she cried out as he eased inside her, inch by teasing inch, clearly making certain that she felt every single one.
He, too, didn’t seem immune to the intensity of the moment, as a low growl rumbled in the back of his throat, the vibrations tickling her neck as he bent his head to kiss her there.
She relished the sound of his pleasure. Her fingernails clawed at his back, steadying herself for a moment by gripping his powerful biceps.
He stilled for a moment, as if to let her get accustomed to the immense size of him.
A courteous gesture that, despite herself, made her fall just a little bit harder for the man she was supposed to marry.
Had always been destined to marry, regardless of the outcome.
An ancient tale that was brand new to her, living it for the first time.
His hips drew back, and she had to stop herself from tilting her hips just to keep him deep inside her. Instead, she reminded herself that she’d feel that full, satisfying length again, every inch of it, in just a moment.
But she’d underestimated the talent of this man, whom she might never get to call husband.
Withdrawing to the tip, he pulsed his hips, the shallow thrusts hitting the most sensitive parts of her all at once, setting off a surge of electricity that bolted through her, until it felt as if every cell in her body was ablaze in the best possible way.
“Yes… yes…” she moaned, no longer certain if she was forming words or not.
A moment later, he plunged inside her. Her back arched off the blankets, her hands running over the heat of his body, clinging to him as he sank into her eager depths.
And when he drew back again, she met his next thrust with delirious abandon, until the two of them were moving together, perfectly in unison, perfectly attuned and entwined, as if they had done this a thousand times before and would never tire of it.
It was like nothing she’d ever xperienceed. It wasn’t sex, it was the art of making love, of connecting with someone on a level that neither magic nor science could explain, of binding two souls together, not merely two bodies.
In perfect harmony, the bed became their playground, moving through positions that thrilled and delighted, as if he’d made this night his moment to learn what she liked the most.
Sitting astride him, she rode him with everything she had, grinding against him until her swollen clit teased the promise of another ferocious orgasm.
His hands on her hips urged her onward, and when she tired, he sat up and kissed her fervently, taking over as he plunged deep inside her, his hips driving upward as if he, too, were about to come.
But it was only when he laid her back down on the bed and thrust with measured strokes, rocking his hips at the last second to brush his pubic bone against her clit, that the soaring, crackling feeling of ecstasy finally reached its peak.
“Oh my God… Yes, Hunter… Oh… Oh… Oh, yes!” she screamed as she came, the feeling unlike anything she had experienced before.
It was pure light, pure fire, burning through her until she felt as if she might truly fly, her whole body seemingly aglow with the rush of that sweet, fierce pleasure.
She gripped him tight as the inferno swept through her again and again, a storm of bliss that might as well carry her off, and as his pace quickened, he let out a growl of pleasure that triggered a fresh flurry of sparking bliss.
“Love,” he rasped, his breathing ragged. His mouth caught hers in a desperate kiss, and she felt him pulse deep inside her. “Och, love…”
Love?
She held him tighter, as if clinging to that word as much as the warmth of his body.
My love…
It was almost as earth-shattering as her climax to hear him call her that. Even in the throes of passion, she knew he wasn’t the kind of man who’d say it as a term of endearment if he didn’t mean it.
As his arms slid around her and held her close to him, their pleasure ebbing together, she prayed that tomorrow would never come. She prayed they could just stay like that forever, suspended in time, in this one night of complete and utter happiness, where nothing could tear them apart.
As she began to feel the weight of him, he seemed to sense it and rolled them both onto their sides. There, his hand cradled her neck and brought her head to his chest, their bodies fitting together like fate had carved them from the same stone.
“Daenae leave,” he said softly, though she couldn’t tell if it was a command or a request.
She draped her arm over his waist and nuzzled into him, squeezing her eyes shut so that no tears would have a chance to escape. “Stay alive.”
“I plan to, lass,” he murmured. “I plan to.”
A frantic barrage of knocks jolted Nancy out of a contented, satisfied slumber. Her heart leapt into her throat, disoriented as she looked around and found daylight streaming in through the bedroom windows.
We fell asleep! It’s morning!
The night had escaped them, and now, despite her wish for the night to last forever, it was the tomorrow she feared.
“Hunter!” Jack’s voice reverberated through the door. “Hunter, get up!”
Hunter was out of bed and on his feet in an instant, pulling on a shirt before he made his way over to the door and wrenched it open. Grumpily, he asked, “What are ye wailin’ for?”
“It’s Laird MacLeach, Hunter,” Jack replied, though Nancy couldn’t see him from her position in the bed. “He’s at the chapel with his men. He’s askin’ to speak with ye.”
Nancy’s blood ran cold.
“I’ll be there at once,” Hunter replied, slamming the door in Jack’s face as he turned and grabbed his plaid, hurriedly pleating and belting it into place.
“Don’t,” Nancy urged, slipping out from beneath the covers. “Hunter, don’t go.”
Hunter looked at her and smiled, grabbing his sword. “I have nay choice, love.” He paused, his eyes glinting with sadness for a moment. “This is me destiny.”
Before she could argue, before she could throw herself at him and hold him by the legs in a vain attempt to stop him, he was out the door, leaving her behind.
I’m not too late. The wedding hasn’t started yet, and it was the wedding that began the tapestry, she told herself as she jumped out of bed and struggled into her wedding dress, fighting with the laces of her stays, the endless petticoats, the stomacher that snatched her waist.
She wouldn’t be the neatest bride in the world, but with Hunter’s life on the line, she couldn’t have cared less about her appearance. In fact, if there hadn’t been a risk of it being tapestried into permanent history, she’d have run down to the chapel wearing nothing at all.