Chapter Thirteen
There were some things Hypatia had, if not expected from her arrangement with Thorn, then known were a distinct possibility; that sense of possibility had in turn largely factored into her decision to accept his proposal, and risk all the comfort and safety she’d benefited from previously—for no matter how unfulfilled her life was, she had possessed those things.
She’d known from their few minutes together it was likely they would get along, have lively conversations; shared a certain sense of wit, and plain sense.
She’d wagered he was in essence, a good man; respectful, kind, not a wastrel.
That wager had meant she’d wagered something far more important; that she could trust him, that he wouldn’t injure her, mistreat her, or abuse his power over her once he’d gained it.
And finally, she’d suspected after their kiss, and discussion of the matter, that they would do well together as regarded intimate affairs, and that in all likelihood, she might enjoy some sensual time, at some point in their marriage, with him, and that it would be very pleasant.
However, Hypatia had to admit two things to herself, as they, well, there wasn’t really any word for it but mauled each other messily, making their way from the kitchen—where they’d left their baskets, devoid of anything but crumbs, blankets, and linens—clutching at each other, at the bundles of clothes in their arms, at walls, door-frames, and eventually, banisters.
Firstly, she had to admit that she was very glad she’d married this man with a house devoid of furniture and baubles, for it made their progress much smoother than it might’ve been otherwise, and resulted in no damage but to their shins and shoulders as they bumped and rolled against uneven wooden surfaces when they got too carried away and lost their balance.
Secondly, she had to admit that she’d gotten far more than she’d bargained for with Thorn; in the very best ways.
She’d found all she’d wagered she would—kindness, respect, good company—but also all she hadn’t truly dared hope for, such as profound care, understanding, and true partnership.
She’d trusted him with her future, and her person, and also found someone she felt she could trust her whole self to, as she had, with every word, every question, every confession, such as those spoken tonight in the stream.
She’d found someone who trusted her with parts of himself she was sure he hadn’t before, and that was something extraordinary, and potent, and vibrant.
And if she was honest, though she’d expected any intimate encounters with Thorn would be good, pleasant, and somewhat satisfactory, she’d not quite expected their compatibility to be quite so potent.
She’d not expected to become quite so quickly addicted to his taste—to all of his tastes—to be set quite so afire by the look of him in full natural state, or when he lost all composure and control, because of her.
She’d never been desired, felt wanted so insatiably, and desired so insatiably.
Perhaps most discombobulating of all, was that she’d not quite expected to need him so much—she’d expected to want him, not to need to feel his hands on her, or to know what he felt like inside of her, or how his whole body might feel above, or below, or—
‘Why did you stop?’ she asked, somewhat petulant, likely glassy-eyed, and very out of breath when Thorn broke their kiss.
‘We have arrived at our rooms.’
Blinking, she turned to discover that they were in fact leaning against the wall between the doors of their rooms.
Looking back at him, she found him breathing exceptionally hard, dried strands of hair both falling dangerously over his forehead, and sticking up in the oddest manner, while sweat beaded at his temples, and his eyes glowed in the semi-darkness of the moonlit corridor.
‘Would you think me presumptuous if I invited you to my room, under no pretence but that we continue this, and with the reassurance I did happen to buy a preventive in Sandham?’ he asked, determination and desire laced with hesitancy.
‘I likely should,’ she grinned. ‘However, considering I too acquired such an item during our outing to Sandham, it would be most hypocritical.’
‘I am beginning to realise just how much I’ve underestimated my luck on finding you in the garden,’ Thorn sighed, shaking his head desperately, and claiming her mouth once again.
Hypatia lost herself in that fierce and deep discovery for a few moments, before initiating a half-roll, half slide towards Thorn’s door, fumbling around with her free hand for the latch, before finally finding it, and throwing open the door.
Making a sound that resembled both a growl and sigh of relief, Thorn followed her as they stumbled in, thankfully having the presence of mind to not fall in too far before closing the door, not that she thought anyone would come spying.
All bets were off then, as the bundles they’d somehow managed to keep hold of fell to the ground, and liberated of those burdens, they put their hands to better use, tearing at each other’s dressing gowns, shirts, trousers, and at their own boots—thankfully only slipped on—then skin, hair, fingers, hips, chests, breasts, anywhere really, they could reach, still refusing to end the kiss, tongues winding and darting in exploration in between every sharp inhale they could muster.
They left a trail to the bed they managed to find—Hypatia only realising they’d found it when the back of her knees hit the mattress, without enough warning to prevent a reflex from having her break away from Thorn, and sit upon on it.
He remained somewhat frozen before her in mid-air, leaning but not looming, as surprised as she was, until his eyes refocused, glinting in the moonlight streaming in, and a slow grin divided his face.
His chest heaving as much as hers, he slowly straightened, letting his eyes catalogue and drift over every inch of her much like they had at the stream, sure and sweet as a caress; and she did not resist the impulse either.
In fact, to better aid both of them, she slid back on the coverlet, leaning back on her forearms to better see, and be seen; and because she felt safe, and appreciated, and unjudged, she tantalisingly slid her legs slower and slower apart, so that he could see all of her.
Thorn made a strangled sort of noise, focusing in, his own private self certainly appreciating the view.
And with every breath, every glance, every second, I find myself hungrier, and more in need of whatever this man can give.
What he gives me now.
‘If I ever think to get the shutters on these windows repaired,’ he breathed, licking his lips, that little dimple above his mouth teasing her. ‘Please remind me of what a foolish notion that would be.’
‘Certainly, husband,’ she said.
Why…
She wasn’t entirely sure. All she knew, was that she felt the impulse, and Thorn certainly seemed to appreciate, eyes flashing wider for a second, before his jaw tightened determinedly.
He stepped forward, but Hypatia was confused when he then leaned down to his left; at least until he slid a case she recognised well from under the mattress, and tossed it on the bed beside her feet.
‘Any preferences?’ he asked, raising a brow. ‘Once I’ve ensured you’re positively dripping with need, of course.’
I already am, but perhaps I am mistaken, Hypatia thought, shivering against her will, swallowing hard, the way he spoke, his presence, his beauty and that terrifying, screaming need she had for him, conspiring to make her behave and react in ways she never had.
He accused her of commanding him, but she found, he commanded her body just as frighteningly; he scared her just as much for how everything within her clamoured for him to touch her again.
‘Once you’ve assured yourself of my readiness, we can discuss,’ she managed to get out, and if it sounded breathy, well, she didn’t rightly care.
A quirk of his head in assent, and he was kneeling before her, then sliding his roughened and deliciously calloused hands up her legs, from ankle to knee, where he grabbed hold, and slid her back towards him, until her bum was just on the edge of the bed, her quim was in his face, and then his hands slid up the tender inside of her damp and sweaty thighs, and he spread her legs even further apart.
He inhaled deeply of her scent, while she scrambled to inhale at all, his eyes drifting closed for a moment.
Then, having taken what he would, he held her right leg where he wished for it to remain, resting his other arm on her left thigh, curling his hand around so he could spread her intimate, already drenched and dripping lips apart, and without further preamble, licked her in one wide and masterful stroke from cleft to bud.
Hypatia’s shoulders slid forward as her back bent upwards, and her toes curled, and everything tightened deliciously.
‘Damn it, Hypatia,’ he gritted out, the vibrations tickling every already sensitive nerve. ‘I’ll not last long with you tasting like this.’
‘Who said you had to?’
Another growl was his answer, and Hypatia found that when Thorn set his mind to do something well, he did so, a sense of time-pressure adding to his focus and mastery.
He remembered every spot she’d shown him previously, and laved succinct, but lavish attention on it, swiping, licking, and teasing with flicks and grazes of teeth.
He explored every part of her intimate self, whilst she fought not to buck and move too much; clenching, and tightening her belly as she waited for his next move.
He kissed, and delved deep into her, drinking and making the most otherwise disturbing noises, which somehow made her pant and moan even more.
He brought her to the very edge, and the blasted man knew it, for he stopped, and rose to his feet, and she gazed up to find him waiting for an answer to her previous question.
In response, she slid back up the bed whilst he found the preventive case in the mess of bed linens—a miracle in itself—and covered himself.
When he had, she turned over, the coverlet scraping tantalisingly at her sore and peaking nipples and tender flesh, and tucked her arms beside and somewhat beneath her, knees nearly to elbows, and slightly spread, and waited.
Another pitiful moan escaped Thorn, and she grinned, her cheek flaming against the bed, which dipped without much ado as he clambered on.
‘You’ll be the death of me, woman.’
‘Only a little death.’
And then he was cursing, and right behind her, tucking himself against her flesh in every way possible, and she managed to get in one stilted breath as he filled her, and took hold of her hips in one spectacularly smooth and determined move.
Closing her eyes, and letting herself fall into this dizzying, mind-splitting, and mouth-watering connection and incandescent compatibility, Hypatia clenched and released him inside her, moving with him, yet trusting his hold, his control, his everything.
She breathed in the old coverlet, and his sweat, and their scents, as she scraped and slid against the bed, his grunts and sounds of approbation and pleasure true music to her ears.
‘More,’ she breathed, feeling his nearing his own peak.
So he grasped her tighter, not shifting his position, but pulsing into her harder and deeper, before finally one of his hands did shift, following the dripping trail her body gave him, and he found her bud, and then she was muffling screams by twisting her head into the coverlet, and grabbed it tightly too.
The most incredible pleasure she’d ever reached, by her own hands or another’s, blinded her; sending stars and dancing magma into every corner and reach of her.
And with a few final thrusts, Thorn surrounded her with his body, having reached his own height of pleasure, and once he’d released himself into the preventive, encircling her with his arms, he guided them into a side and backwards tumble so they could lay back to front, and catch their breaths.
‘That was far from a little death, Hypatia,’ he chuckled lazily after quite a few minutes recovering, sliding the rest of the way out of her.
‘Yes, you’re very good at that,’ she grinned, and he chuckled again.
‘Happy to serve.’
They remained there a few minutes longer, at which point Hypatia’s last echoes of pleasure had dissipated into chill, and she began to feel the stickiness, and the sweat, and the heat of Thorn’s body, and feel all of it in a way she didn’t like.
For though she enjoyed sensual encounters, she’d discovered early on that there was something about the after, about the reality of others’ bodies and her own, which was entirely uncomfortable, and marred the entire preceding experience if she didn’t separate herself from it.
And much like with the hand-holding or touching, Hypatia had never really found but that she slept worse with someone else in her bed or chamber; that more generally she was entirely happy and more comfortable in solitude than in company of any sort.
Besides, it was late, and she needed some rest—especially after that—so she rolled away from him, and he grunted discontentedly.
‘Thank you,’ she smiled, turning back to kiss him gently, and swiftly. ‘Good night, Thorn, and rest well.’
And though he looked somewhat surprised, he neither said anything, nor moved much at all, while she threw on her shirt, and made her way towards their interconnecting door.
‘Good night, Hypatia,’ he finally said.
So she smiled back at him, and left, cleaning up before tucking into her own bed.
Thinking all the while, how well suited they were indeed, since he didn’t seem to be of the sort who minded she didn’t stay—but rather of the sort who liked their pleasure, and their own personal space as she did.
Much more than I expected.