Chapter 24 #2
Erik moved fast, lifting her, turning them until her back was against the smooth rock at the spring’s edge.
The stone was warm from the water but solid, grounding her even as everything else spun out of control.
He braced one arm above her head, the other hand sliding down to grip her hip as he kissed her again.
“Tell me if ye want tae stop,” he murmured against her lips. “Any time. Fer any reason.”
Her hands explored the broad expanse of his shoulders, the hard ridges of muscle across his chest. “I want… I want ye.”
“Thor’s bones, lass.” His forehead dropped to hers, and she felt him trembling with the effort of holding back. “Ye’ve nay idea what ye dae tae me.”
“Then show me.”
His hand slid lower, fingers trailing down her stomach and making her gasp. When he touched her between her thighs—gentle, teasing—she nearly came apart.
“Ye’re so soft here,” he breathed, his accent thickening as he stroked her. “So warm… och, lass, ye’re perfect.”
She couldn’t form words anymore. Could only hold onto him as he did something with his fingers that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
“Och… och… och, Erik!” The orgasm hit her like lightning strike—blocking everything out except the feel of Erik holding her through it, his mouth swallowing her cries as she shook and gasped against him.
When she came back to herself, he was watching her with such raw want it stole her breath all over again.
She pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing him with renewed urgency.
Her hand drifted lower, wrapping around the hard length of him beneath the water, and the sound he made was somewhere between agony and bliss.
“Claricia—” His hand caught her wrist, gently stopping her. “If ye keep that up, I’ll spend before we even start.”
“Then dinnae wait.” She nipped at his bottom lip, emboldened by the hunger in his eyes.
He lifted her again, positioning her carefully. The blunt head of his arousal pressed against her entrance, and she tensed involuntarily.
“Easy.” He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth––soft, soothing touches even as every line of his body screamed with restraint. “We’ll go slow.”
“I’m nae made of s—”
The words cut off in a sharp gasp as he pushed forward, just the tip of him breaching her. The stretch burned, uncomfortable and strange. “Breathe, lass.” His voice was strained. “’Tis alright.”
She forced air into her lungs, tried to relax muscles that wanted to clench tight. Erik held still, letting her adjust, pressing kisses to her temple as he murmured things in a language she didn’t understand—Old Norse, maybe, prayers or curses or both.
He pushed deeper, slowly and carefully, watching her face for any sign of pain. There was discomfort, yes—a burning fullness that made her catch her breath—but underneath it, was the promise of something else entirely.
“Gods, Claricia…” Erik breathed when he was fully seated inside her. “Ye feel… like ye were made… just fer me.”
He gave her time to adjust, peppering her face with kisses until the initial sting faded into something warmer. Then he started to move—slow, shallow thrusts that dragged against something inside her that coiled tighter and tighter with each move he made.
“Erik… I… och!”
His movements grew bolder. She wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him deeper, and they both groaned at the sensation. The water lapped around them, steam rising in ghostly tendrils into the cold night air.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough as stone. “I want tae look intae yer eyes when ye come fer me pleasurin’ of ye, wife.”
She forced her eyes open, met that storm-gray gaze, and what she saw there nearly undid her. Raw hunger, yes, but also something else. Something tender and fierce and terrifying in its intensity.
He loves me. And Saints help me, I might love him too.
The realization hit her at the same moment another orgasm crested.
“Erik!” His name was a cry and a prayer as she shattered around him.
He followed her over with a hoarse shout, his whole body going rigid as he poured himself into her. Then they were both gasping, holding each other like drowning people clutching wreckage, as reality slowly seeped back in.
“That was...” Claricia couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Aye.” Erik pressed his forehead to hers, still breathing hard.
They stayed like that for long moments, tangled together in the warm water, neither willing to break the spell. Finally, Erik pulled back just enough to look at her.
“Nay regrets?”
“Nay regrets,” she confirmed, then added with a small smile, “Though I may never look at yer ‘puddle’ the same way again.”
He laughed then, a real laugh, the sound rich and warm. “Good. Means ye’ll come back here with me.”
“Presumptuous.”
“Optimistic.” He kissed her softly, tenderly. “There’s a difference.”
When they finally emerged from the water, Erik wrapped her in her cloak and pulled her close, both of them dripping and breathless and utterly content. The night air bit at their skin, but neither seemed to notice.
Claricia rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “Erik?”
“Aye, little bird?”
“What we just did…” She felt heat rise to her cheeks despite everything. “That was… I mean, I never imagined…”
His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “That good, was I?”
She swatted his arm. “Ye’re impossible.”
“And ye’re still here.” He caught her hand, brought it to his lips. “Still mine.”
“Aye.” The admission came easier than she expected. “I suppose I am.”
He kissed her, swallowing whatever else she might have said. When he pulled back, his eyes held a warmth that made her chest ache.
They dressed slowly, stealing touches and kisses between laces and buckles. When Erik helped her onto his horse for the ride back, he held her against him like something precious, irreplaceable.
“We’ll face whatever comes next together,” he promised. “As husband and wife. As partners.”
“As lovers?” she added, feeling bold.
His grin was pure sin. “Aye, little bird. Always as lovers.”
They rode through the keep’s gates together, and for the first time since arriving on Skye, Claricia felt excited for the many years still to come in her marriage.