28. Artemis #2
My hands refused to stay in one place. Every time they settled somewhere, I wanted more. His shoulders. The warm line of his neck. The steady strength of his back beneath my palms.
Arthur reacted to every movement.
A shift of breath. A tightening of his grip. The quiet rumble in his chest when I pulled him closer again.
“You carry so much,” he said. “I wish I could take it all from you.”
I tipped my face up toward his, the water sliding between us, and for a moment it felt like the rest of the world was very far away.
He kissed me then. Soft at first. Slow. Asking instead of taking. I deepened the kiss, reveling in the gentle sureness of his mouth on mine. Every time he kissed me like that, it made my chest ache in a good way.
His fingers ghosted over the skin between my breasts, making me shiver.
“May I touch you?” he murmured.
“Yes,” I said. “Please.”
He cupped me, his thumbs brushed over my nipples. Gasping, I gripped his shoulders. He made a low sound like he was holding back.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said. “You are so beautiful. All of you.”
I looked up at him. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true,” he said as he slid one hand down my waist, my hips. He parted me with two fingers, finding how ready I was for him. “God, you’re so wet for me.”
I wrapped one leg around his hip as he slid a finger inside me, my entire body lighting up with desire.
“Arthur,” I said. “More.”
He added a second finger. I bit my lip, trying to keep quiet. His hand moved with purpose now, but he never stopped watching my face.
“You’re perfect,” he said. “Every sound you make. Every way you move.”
I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his hard length. He sucked in hard and his hips jerked.
“Artemis,” he said. “If you keep that up, I’m not going to last.”
“I want you,” I said. “Please.”
He turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around me before lifting me easily into his arms. I laughed, half dazed, half aching. I kissed along his neck as he carried me into the research room. He laid me down on the couch like I was something fragile.
“Are you sure?” he asked again.
“Yes,” I said. “I want this. I want you.”
He traced his fingers over me once more. “You’re so ready for me. Artemis, I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”
He entered me slowly, and we moaned together as our bodies met. I arched up, my hands digging into his back.
“So good,” I said. “Arthur, you feel so good.”
He moved with care at first, deep and slow. He kissed me like he was trying to tell me something he did not have words for. His eyes stayed on mine the whole time.
“I love how you look at me,” I said. “Like I matter.”
“You do matter,” he said. “You matter more than anything.”
When he picked up the pace, I wrapped my legs around him. Arthur pressed one hand into the couch beside my head, holding himself steady as he thrust into me.
“God, Artemis,” he said. “You are incredible.”
The words went straight through me. Not just to my skin, but deeper. To every old doubt that told me I was too much or not enough. The way he said it made it feel like truth, not flattery.
I broke under him then, murmuring his name like it was the only thing holding me together.
He slowed, then stilled. One arm slid behind my back, and he lifted me with careful strength as he sat down on the couch. I followed him without thinking, settling over him, still joined, still so full of him it made my whole body feel alive and open.
He looked up at me with a raw openness, as if he could hardly believe I was real. “Artemis,” he said, low and thick.
I braced my hands on his shoulders as he thrust into me again, one long, deep movement that tore a moan from both of us. My legs shook at the fullness, and I moved with him, finding a rhythm that felt natural and right, like our bodies had always known how to do this together.
We were both breathing hard now. Water still clung to our skin, catching the light in small, shining drops.
His hands moved over me, restless and sure all at once.
One moment he was holding my hips, the next he was sliding his palms up my back, then down again, like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch me most.
“I need you,” he said, almost like a confession.
He leaned in and kissed me as I rolled my hips. His kiss was deep and hungry, and it said more than any words ever could. I kissed him back just as hard, just as desperate. We moved together faster now, chasing something that felt bigger than either of us.
I felt an orgasm building again, starting low and spreading through me until it was too much to hold back. I tilted my head back, a sound breaking from me as it took over.
“Arthur,” I cried.
He moaned brokenly as he followed, holding me tight as it all crashed through us at once. For a moment, everything went still, like the world had narrowed down to just us and where we were joined.
When it passed, I was shaking. He kept his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest, making sure I stayed right there with him.
I started shivering the second Arthur laid us down on the couch, even with his warm arms wrapped around me.
It was the small, annoying kind that made my teeth chatter and my shoulders pull in like I was trying to disappear inside myself.
Arthur noticed right away.
He wrapped me in the towel, and before I could argue about being fine actually, really fine, thank you very much, he scooped me up like I weighed nothing.
“Come with me,” he said quietly.
The way he said it sent a little zing of pleasure through me. Like there was nowhere else I was supposed to be.
“Arthur, I can walk,” I mumbled, my arms wrapped around his neck even as he kept carrying me. “You don't have to carry me everywhere. I’m not made of glass.”
He just looked down at me with that steady, soft focus. “I know you can,” he said. “I just want to.”
He carried me, newlywed style, out of the research room and into the mansion proper.
Even half dizzy and wrapped in a towel, I couldn’t help staring.
The place was so massive, it made modern houses look embarrassing.
Stone walls rose up into vaulted ceilings.
Old beams crossed overhead, dark with age and history.
There were tall windows set deep into the walls, rain streaking down the glass.
Every few steps, a hallway branched off into shadow, full of doors and secrets and probably at least three cursed objects.
“Your house is ridiculous,” I muttered.
He smiled a little. “I know.”
We passed tapestries and carved pillars and more bookshelves than one building should be allowed to have.
The floor was smooth stone, worn down by centuries of footsteps.
I tried not to think about how many people had walked these halls before me.
Or how strange it was that I was here at all, wrapped in a towel, in the arms of a dragon.
Thankfully, his room wasn’t far. He nudged open a heavy wooden door and carried me inside.
It was huge. Of course it was. Tall ceilings. Exposed beams. A wide stone fireplace. A balcony with doors that opened out to the dark, stormy evening. His bed sat against one wall, all thick blankets and dark wood, looking like it was meant for someone who took rest very seriously.
He laid me down gently, then he climbed in beside me, pulling the blankets around us both.
“We should get some rest,” he said. “You’re freezing and exhausted.”
“I am not freezing,” I said automatically, even though I absolutely was.
He pulled me closer anyway, and I sank into his body heat, tucking myself against him, my head on his chest, my legs drawn in. He held me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The room was quiet except for the rain against the windows and Arthur’s breathing. For once, my brain did not feel like it was sprinting in five directions at once. It was still.
Safe.
“I love you, Arthur,” I said softly.
The words came out before I could overthink them, which was probably a miracle.
He tightened his arms around me. “I love you, too.”