Chapter 9 #2
In our bedroom, he removes his jacket while I tug a seemingly endless number of pins from my hair. He combs his fingers through the soft waves.
“Beautiful.”
With a soft kiss to my nape, he begins unbuttoning the column of buttons marching down my spine.
“Corbin?”
“Hm?”
“I’m done waiting. Hurry up.”
His low chuckle sparks fire in my veins. I turn to face him, fist his shirt, and try to tear it from his chest. My failure to pop a single button makes him laugh outright.
“You’re not hastening the process.” He smiles against my lips.
In between kisses, we engage in a haphazard frenzy of clothing removal.
He yanks the sleeves down without a care for the delicate lace.
I’m aghast and amused, unable to bring myself to mind the damage as long as we remove every barrier between our bodies.
Three weeks, I’ve waited.
Three weeks since the night we defeated the witch and I first saw him in all his glory.
Three weeks with only chaste kisses and my fervid imaginings about what this would feel like—all entirely insufficient.
When my dress and underskirt finally puddle around my feet, he cups my face in a devouring kiss. His breath is ragged against my cheek.
“You don’t know how hard it’s been to wait,” he growls. “Not being able to touch you.”
“Touch me now.” He does, pulling me hard against his bare chest. One hand drops to my breast, squeezing it through the thin stays Gwen chose for me. Still too much of a barrier. They feel heavy and aching. I need his bare hands on me. His mouth.
“Get this off,” I snarl, yanking futilely at the tangled ribbons. He spins me around and makes quick work of the stays. We collapse in a tangle onto the bed.
His clever hands on my tightly beaded nipples are wonderful. His tongue is even better.
“I dreamed of this every night,” I sigh. “I actually missed the witch’s magic. Can you believe that?”
“Yes. What else did you dream of, my queen?” He kisses his way down my stomach. The forgotten silk stockings cling to my legs for dear life. He settles himself between my thighs. “Did you imagine me kissing you here?”
Heat blasts through me at his question.
“No. But I am now.”
“A failure of imagination. Such an innocent.”
He parts my slick folds with a wicked gleam in his amber eyes, partially obscured by a tangle of dark hair, and applies his tongue.
A low moan escapes us both. I’ve never known to miss something this wicked, this pure.
This feeling. Pleasure ratchets higher. I fist the bedsheets.
With shaking fingers, I reach down and touch his hair.
“You’re so wet for me.” He presses a soft kiss to my thigh and resumes licking me.
“You’re only...discovering...this now?” I pant. “These weeks have been torture.”
“The torment is over, my queen.” He is wrong.
It has only begun. Bearing down with the flat of his tongue, he slides one finger into my opening.
There is no pain, only the unfamiliar sensation of being stretched.
He pumps and sucks until the pleasure coiling inside me releases in a pulsing wave. Time expands and collapses upon itself.
When the climax subsides, I collapse against the bedsheets.
He crawls up beside me and half-covers me with his body. “I hope that’s not all you have to give me. We’re just getting started.”
Corbin begins all over again. Kissing my lips, my neck, my breasts.
His hard cock juts against my stomach. My thighs.
Inspired, I push him onto his back and give him the same treatment, kissing my way down the ridges of his abdomen to the stiff and rather intimidating cock jutting at his navel.
Experimentally, I close my fist around it.
“Firmer,” he instructs, and covers my hand with his to demonstrate.
The ruddy, blunt head weeps a single droplet of liquid.
I press my tongue to it and taste a faint hint of salt and musk.
His groan is all the encouragement I need.
I lick him the way he did me. Every muscle in his abdomen tightens.
He tents his fingertips against my head, half guiding me, half trying not to cling.
Emboldened, I suck his cock into my mouth.
His hips push upward, seeking. Pushing into my mouth.
“Fuck, Rowena, as nice as this is, I need you to stop. Now.” He gently pries me off his cock.
“I was doing well, wasn’t I?”
“Too well. You can try that again later.” He rolls me to my back and settles between my thighs. The blunt tip I’d kissed a moment ago bumps against my slick opening. I let my knees fall wide.
“I’ll go slow,” he grits against my temple. The intrusion is unfamiliar yet delicious, stretching parts of me I had never been aware of like this before. Initial resistance gives way to relentless pressure. He exhales a harsh breath.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “I don’t want slow. I don’t want gentle. I want you.”
He sets a methodical pace. Careful, despite my urging not to be.
“Corbin.”
“Yes, love?”
“Fuck me.”
With a kiss and a smile, he does.