Chapter 17 #2
She had already been close before, when Archer had been teasing her with his fingers, but now every sensation felt magnified, so much stronger than before. His manhood slid against her walls, filling her up to the brim, and her body twitched around him the deeper he pushed.
“Please, Archer...daenae stop,” she said, looking into his eyes.
“Ye’ll be the death of me,” said Archer, but then he began to move.
At first, his thrusts were slow, measured, each dart of his manhood against her walls sending another rush of pleasure through her.
Every time their bodies met, stimulating that spot at the very top of her seam, River cried out in pleasure.
Every time he thrusted deep, hitting another spot inside her, she held onto him even more tightly, never wanting to let go.
“Ye’re perfect, mo ghraidh,” Archer whispered into her ear. “Perfect.”
The two of them, tightly entwined, rocked together on the bed, each thrust bringing River closer and closer to her climax.
Archer kissed her anywhere he could reach—her shoulder, her neck, her cheek, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as he took her.
Pressure built deep inside her, demanding release, and after a particularly hard, uncontrolled thrust, River finally reached her climax with a shout of his name.
Archer cried out as she began to pulse around him, losing all control.
He rutted into her, chasing his own release, which he soon found when he spilled deep inside her, filling her with his seed.
River clung to him, petting his back soothingly as he panted over her, trying to catch his breath, his body still rigid and shaking.
They stayed like that for a few moments before Archer pulled out and back from her, the air suddenly hitting River’s skin and leaving her cold.
For a moment, Archer sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the other end of the room. Then, he began to pick up his clothes and dress himself, much to River’s confusion.
“Will ye nae stay?” she asked.
Archer turned and gave her a small smile. “I’d better go back to me chambers.”
He didn’t offer an explanation for it, and River didn’t ask. She only slid under the covers, quietly accepting the kiss that Archer pressed on her forehead, though there was something strained about it—about him.
“Goodnight, River,” he said, and with that, he was gone.
River lay there, luxuriating in the golden haze of her orgasm.
Her entire body seemed to tingle with the lingering sensations, her mind blissfully blank—at least until she began to realize there was something wrong with the way Archer was acting, and her heartbeat picked up, a cold fear gripping her.
Could he regret claiming her, she wondered? But how could that be? How could he regret it when he had told her just that night how much he wanted her, how much he craved her?
But there was certainly something wrong with him, that much River knew.
She simply didn’t know what could have changed so quickly.
Archer stumbled out of River’s chambers like a drunkard. When he was in the corridor, he took a moment to brace himself against the wall, pain splitting his head and nausea crawling up his throat.
He had managed to keep it all under control while he was in front of her, but now there was no stopping the wave of memories that flooded his mind.
He remembered everything. He remembered everything but that one night, when he had been attacked, and his entire life came back to him with violent intensity, like a hammer to the head.
The entire castle seemed to tilt around him, like a ship in bad waters, and Archer had to hold onto the wall for dear life as he struggled to get to his chambers.
On his way there, he bumped into Finlay, much to his chagrin—though not his surprise. The man appeared like a ghost, like he usually did in the eastern wing, where he seemed to patrol at all hours of the day and night.
“Me Laird,” said Finlay, his tone flat, though not tired. There was something else to his voice, a strange quality that it didn’t have when he was around River. “What are ye doin’ here so late at night?”
“I could ask ye the same thing,” said Archer.
“I’m patrollin’,” said Finlay.
“So am I,” said Archer.
“I didnae ken Lairds have to patrol the grounds like common soldiers.”
“The good ones do.”
For a few moments, the two of them stared at each other in silence. Then, Finlay gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Quite right,” he said. “Ye do seem rather…tired, though. Are ye?”
“Nay,” said Archer immediately. “I’m fine.”
Finlay said nothing in response, but Archer could tell he wanted to. In the end, he only tilted his head as if to say goodnight and walked past Archer without another glance or word.
And Archer was left to stand there, a strange shiver running down his spine. The moment passed, and he continued on his way to his chambers, but the same thought kept circling his mind again and again.
Nae one can ken about this. Nae one can ken I remember, nae until I find who attacked me.
And River...Lord, I’ve been such a fool.