31. In which a name is forgotten
IN WHICH A NAME IS FORGOTTEN
She had to have him. Immediately.
Hester dropped her coat to the floor of the tent, along with her snow goggles and hat, then kicked off her boots.
Septimus’s gear followed. She threw herself at him, leaping and wrapping her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles together like she’d never let go.
He hauled her against him, his hands pressing into her ass.
Their mouths met in a hard, blazing kiss.
Heat prickled along her skin. She wanted to lose herself in him.
If this was love, she wanted more. Wanted everything he had to offer.
She pulled the leather tie around his hair free so that it fell loose and dragged her fingers through the black strands. Oh God, he was everything she needed.
And then the world tipped as he dropped her to the floor and kissed his way down her jaw, down her neck, along her collarbone. Heat flared in her blood.
“Too many clothes,” she muttered, pulling his hips down into hers.
“It’s freezing.”
“I’m not cold.”
He yanked her jumper over her head, then swept his hands under her shirt, rough skin against the curves of her hips, and then the shirt was gone too.
He let out a ragged breath that had her bucking her hips into him, and she made quick work of baring his top half.
He flattened his body on top of hers, nipping her bottom lip, staring with such intensity into her eyes that she thought she might unravel at any moment.
“You’re incredible,” he said, smoothing his hands over her breasts.
She tipped her head back. “God, do that again.”
He did. She writhed under him, sure she would catch fire, that the ice would melt underneath her. And then he dipped his head, taking her nipple between his teeth and flicking his tongue.
She arched up. “Oh, yes. More.” She reached down and tugged the ties of his breeches, pulling them down over his hips, his undershorts too, kicking them down with her feet.
She sucked a breath through her teeth when he pressed his hard length against her.
A brightness in her chest flared. She saw it in her mind’s eye, blazing brilliantly.
“Hester,” he growled, and she sank into the way he said her name. Desperate, full of emotion. In two quick tugs her breeches were off, and her underwear quickly followed.
“Look at you,” he murmured against the skin of her stomach, sweeping his hands down her torso and then parting her legs, his eyes turning feral as he gazed down at her.
Then he laughed, tapping a finger to her backside.
“Septimus, kiss me here. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to follow up on this. ”
The tattoo on her ass.
She sniggered, lifting her hips as he kissed the words and then settled her back down, his eyes darkening in shadow as he beheld her.
Hester hardly dared to breathe. It was as though every nerve ending stopped between her thighs. “Are you waiting for something?”
His lips curved, and he ducked his head between her legs, his warm breath hitting her, and she thought she might die, or scream, or both.
“Septimus,” she panted. “Please.”
He looked so damned smug. “It’s…odd, to hear you being polite.”
“Just fucking touch me already,” she growled.
“There she is.”
He licked her from her opening to that extra-sensitive spot, his tongue cleaving through her.
She groaned. “Hell, yes. More.”
He huffed a laugh against her, setting her teeth chattering with pent up desire. He dragged his tongue across her again, and again, and Hester closed her eyes and bucked her hips into him, moaning loudly.
“Shh, everyone will hear you,” he said, voice low.
“I don’t give a damn. More.”
It was building already, the orgasm. And she reached out for it as he sucked and kissed. She closed her eyes, praying—she, Hester Orn—praying to God he would never stop.
And then he slid a finger inside her.
“Oh, God.” She rocked her hips against his tongue, against his finger, clamping her muscles around him. The brightness in her chest seemed to grow, but no magic remained, used up out on the ice. This was something else. Something new.
“Come for me, little witch,” he purred, amused, then licked her in a slow rhythm, white heat building in her thighs. “Let go.”
He didn’t need to ask again. Hester tipped over a precipice, delicious spasms rocking her body as she sank into ecstasy.
His voice rumbled through her, “Yes, Hester.”
Who the fuck was Hester? She’d forgotten her own name.
She wrapped her hands into his hair. He was never allowed to move from between her legs.
“More,” she groaned, her legs shaking as he built her up again. She crested the wave, plummeting down the other side of it, crying out and rolling her hips until he pressed her down with a strong arm.
His laugh vibrated through her. “Good girl.”
“More.” Would it ever be enough?
“I need to be inside of you.” He surged forwards, a hand at the nape of her neck and another under her ass. He lifted her up, standing, muscles flexing, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her back hit the pole of the tent, and in one smooth, blissful thrust he was inside her.
“I’m going to take you like no one ever has. You’re mine, Orn, and I’m not letting you go.” He slid out slowly, then thrust so hard, so deep, that she cried out his name. “Hold fast.”
Her eyes locked onto his, and she thought she might drown in being wanted like this, wanted to drown in him, as he took her like no one ever had. Oh, that line had sounded so cheesy in the romance novels. And it was so fucking hot in real life.
She clung to his shoulders, the tent fabric starting to shake as he rocked his hips into her, and she cried out with every thrust. He muffled her cries with his mouth, sweeping his tongue over hers.
And that bright light in her chest knotted with something in him.
She could feel him at the end of a tether, at the end of an invisible rope.
The tent pole moved back an inch.
“Septimus,” she warned, gripping tighter to his shoulders. “The tent.”
And then the pole gave way completely, the fabric falling down to cover them. He laid her on the floor and carried on, his mouth on her neck, her breasts, his fingers reaching down to stroke her. “I want to feel you come around me.”
She groaned at his touch, at the way he filled her, consumed her, and she clutched at that blazing rope, that lifeline, that invisible tether growing between them.
She rocked up into him, finding that sweet, sweet spot, her fingers digging into his ass as he slammed into her, and white heat rose in her legs again.
“Don’t come without me,” she gasped, as his strokes settled into a perfect rhythm, his breathing coming faster.
He groaned, twisting a hand into her hair, still working her with his other. “I won’t.”
She pulled his head down, desperate for the taste of his mouth, the press of his tongue, her climax building until she shattered around him like ice, her muscles tensing and loosening, and he didn’t stop, kept up that punishing pace until he moaned into her mouth, his movements faltering, his shoulders tensing.
He stilled, pulling his head back and staring at her. “Do you feel that?”
She knew exactly what he meant. His soul twisted around hers, like two strands of rope, forever entwined. She nodded.
“What is that?” he asked.
“I have no idea.” She paused. Looked at him aghast. “Did you just come inside me?”
“Shit. Sorry. I couldn’t stop.”
She covered her face with her hands. “It should be alright. God, that was good.”
He kissed her tenderly. “I’m sorry.”
She smirked and brushed her fingers over his jaw. “I haven’t had a cycle the last few months. One of the joys of malnourishment. It should be fine.”
“God,” he whispered. “You’re incredible.”
“So you said.” She smiled smugly, propping herself up on her elbows and batting the rolls of canvas away. “You were sublime.”
“Hmm.” He brushed kisses along her neck, laying down and tucking her close to him.
“Do you think anyone heard us?” she asked.
“Heard us? They probably saw us by the end.” He pushed the canvas up.
Hester sniggered, nestling into the warmth of his body.
He tightened his arms around her. “I am so in love with you, Hester Orn.”
She laced her fingers through his, tucking his hand over her heart, over the tattoo that had caused her so much pain to look at lately.
Maybe she could move past that loss after all.
Hester awoke sometime later, nestled in Septimus’s arms, sheets of tent canvas on top of them. That new tether in her chest burned brightly. She didn’t understand it, but she felt him there too.
He stared down at her. “You had wings.”
“Ah. Yes.” She swept the loose feathers up. Would he shove her away? Reject her? “That is a new thing. They’re always gone when I wake up.”
He picked up a feather. “They’re beautiful.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Thank you.” She shouldn’t have doubted him.
“Charlotte has a book of mythical people.” Was she really going to tell him everything?
“I’m one of them. There are people called aquiline.
They have wings. That’s the only thing I know.
That, and they come from a place the book calls The Hidden Wilds.
I knew I was different. I didn’t know I was a myth. ”
Septimus stroked the feather along her cheek. “I love you whatever you are.” He bent his head, pressing his lips to hers.
She pressed into him. “And my mother really is dead.” It was difficult to know what to do with that information. There was no neatly marked shelf for the chasm that had opened in her heart.
He stroked a hand over her hair, pulling her closer. “I’m here, if you want to talk about it.”
Hester shook her head. “We should get up.”
“I suppose.”
Hester batted away the canvas and grasped the metal tent pole.
With Septimus’s help she repositioned it, then crouched to pull his watch from his coat pocket, abandoned on the floor.
“What time is it?” she muttered, then frowned as she looked at the watch face.
“Eleven fifteen? That cannot be right—wait.”
She raised her eyes to his.
He took the watch from her, pulling his breeches and shirt back on and giving her a pointed look. “That was the worst moment of my life.”
She sucked in a breath and wrapped her arms around his neck. “So why keep being reminded of it?”
“As a promise to myself. Not to let it happen again.”
She kissed his cheek. “I never took you for the sentimental type.”
He smiled ruefully, saying nothing.
Hester pulled her clothes and boots on, then poked her head out of the tent flap. The whole camp was dismantled and gone. Only one sled remained, with Snowball, Sooty and three other dogs harnessed to it. Hester walked over to Snowball and plucked a crumpled note from her harness.
She read it out, “Follow our tracks. We couldn’t bear to hear you screaming any longer. Hope you had a good ride, Fliss.”
Hester laughed and tucked the letter into her pocket. “The best ride of my life,” she said, her lips curving.