Chapter 31 A Vision
~ DONAVYN ~
“Oh, thank God. I need your help.”
The moment I stepped into the apartment I heard Bren’s voice—which was odd. She was supposed to be at training. I closed the door quickly, then scanned the room, stopping cold when a vision swept to a halt in the doorway of the bedchamber.
Bren stood, staring, her warm, brown hair swept up and twisted, though small tendrils fell around her face. Her neck and shoulders bare, collarbones in full view, along with an inch or more of quivering cleavage because her breasts had been pressed high and held in the grip of that fantastic gown.
Her muscular arms were bare, while the bodice of the dress hugged her so tightly, her waist was pinched to nothing, then flared to her hips, now wide and round with thick pleats of the heavy fabric that gleamed with the shimmer of luxury.
I was stunned, speechless. Gaping.
Clearly this was the work of the queen’s seamstress. What sorcery did these sewing women possess that a gown could so richly frame a woman’s body?
My mate cleared her throat, and I yanked my gaze up from those plump pillows, pushing away the mental image of burying my face between them.
“Sorry, uh, Bren. I was only… surprised.”
High points of color pinked her cheeks, and her lips were thin. But the light in her eyes—and the rush in the bond—reassured me that she enjoyed my bald appreciation. But her face fell.
“The queen stuffed me into this because she said I couldn’t go to court without a gown—and I met some of the noblewomen!
—but then she had to go, and the maids weren’t there, and she said I should take it with me to Fyrehold.
But, Donavyn, I couldn’t go to training because I can’t get myself out of the damned thing! ”
I almost laughed. I thanked God profusely for the gift of seeing her like this. Though it took a moment to align this vision with my mental image of her in leathers, hair pulled back in that severe braid and…
“Donavyn!”
“Sorry. Sorry,” I muttered, hurrying towards her.
“I have to get out there. I’m already late.”
“You’ve already been training.”
“Ronen will wonder what happened to me, but I couldn’t go to the stables and I couldn’t walk around in the Keep like this—I think I got dirt on the hem sneaking around the back of the building.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to get through the undergrowth and up three flights of stairs in this thing? ”
“I told Ronen you’d been called to the palace unexpectedly. He understood you might not be released early enough to attend.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“Yes, definitely.” I reached her where she’d backed into the bedchamber in the space between the bed and the door.
The light was dimmer in this room with its single window.
But it only teased my eyes with further hints and shadows as she turned her back to me and tipped her head forward, revealing that slope at the back of her neck.
A few, small curls falling from the twist of her hair to the sweet skin there.
Kicking the door closed, I stepped up to the folds of that thick skirt. I couldn’t resist, and reached out with two fingers, tracing that line from the nape of her hair, down that slope, to the smooth skin of her shoulder.
Bren went still, but she quivered, and when I leaned down to kiss that skin softly, she exhaled and leaned back into my chest.
“Donavyn…”
“I’ll help you,” I graveled, my voice deep and rough.
It should have frightened her, but instead, a flare of heat reached me through the bond.
God, help me. I cleared my throat as I reached for the tiny buttons that began between her shoulder blades, and followed the soft curve of her spine all the way down.
I cursed my thick fingers, and the tiny loops, worried I’d dirty them. The fastidious work gave me more time to enjoy the sight of her shoulder blades being slowly bared, but also revealed the angry lines of compression from the dress and buttons.
I freed a few inches of her tortured skin, but then met the top of the corset underneath, and my cock twitched.
Dear God.
I loved my mate. Adored her body. Wanted nothing more than her, in any form.
But the sight of that fabric falling in waves away from her, and the laces pulled tight underneath… God, I needed to free her.
Hurrying, as best I could with thick, calloused fingers and those tiny loops, leaning my forehead against her spine as I knelt to free the last of them, Bren stood, hands at her waist, unmoving. But I could feel the churning in her.
She enjoyed my touch.
When I’d finally freed that bodice and it peeled away, dropping forward to reveal her corset, the waistband gaping to offer a peep at the underskirt, I couldn’t stop the low rumble of approval that puttered in my chest.
“Bren, you’re so beautiful.”
She looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes bright. “You really mean that,” she murmured. A statement, not a question. No doubt she could feel my fierce approval in the bond.
But I nodded and stepped close, running hands over her shoulders and down her arms, kissing the side of her neck. When she leaned her head aside to give me more room, I thanked God again, because I felt her giving over, relaxing into me.
I reached for the tied laces at her back with trembling fingers, kissing and tasting her skin between frustrated wrestling with the tight knot.
Bren’s entire body jerked and bobbed with each of my tugs. I was tempted to simply grab a blade and cut through them—surely the laces could be replaced?—but then, finally, the knot gave and the lowest line of laces slipped an inch.
“That’s it,” Bren breathed, looking over her shoulder. She caught my eye and we both went still. Then her throat bobbed. “More,” she whispered.
That was an instruction I wouldn’t hesitate to obey.
Trusting my experience with harnesses and safety straps, I leaned over her shoulder and took her mouth as I started the process of tugging those laces free.
Sadly, we didn’t corset dragons, so I was forced to stop sipping at her mouth and focus on the task, hooking fingers under the lowest lace to pull it loose, then the one above, slowly, slowly, slowly easing them free.
It took minutes, but eventually, enough of the lower half of those tight lines were loosened, so the laces began to pull through.
“Nearly there,” I growled, almost cheering with relief when I finally had the two sides of the corset pulling wide. Bren’s head sank back, and she gave the loveliest sigh of relief.
“I couldn’t begin to unfit this puzzle,” I growled, still tugging those laces looser. “Lift your arms, I’ll pull it up over your head.
“Good idea.”
She did as I asked, the muscles on her back rolling as she reached for the ceiling.
I gripped the top of the corset and drew it up, surprised by how stiffly it kept its shape, but then finally, only catching a few strands of her hair, I pulled it up and over her arms, then tossed it aside as Bren sighed again, rolling her head and shoulders to loosen the strained muscles.
She stood, bare to the waist, the waistband of her underskirts now loose, the bodice folded forward and thick skirts now resting on her hips, and for a moment, I could only stare.
I let my eyes follow the sweet line of her shoulders as she rotated them, the defined muscles in her arms, those planes of her shoulder blades, and the natural curve of her waist, down to the hollow of her spine which dipped and rolled to the top of her buttocks, just barely peering out from the widened waist of the skirts.
“I told you I’d find a way to have you in the middle of the day,” I said hoarsely, then couldn’t speak further.
Bren turned her head again, her eyes bright, but questioning. “Are you sure Ronen won’t—?”
“I’m certain,” I rasped, yanking at my own jacket to open the worn buttons, tearing at it until I was free, then jerked the buttons of my shirt free.
I would have winced when one popped off, but I couldn’t find the energy to care.
I needed to have her, skin to skin. The moment my shirt fell open, I took hold of her waist and pulled her back against me, diving to kiss her neck again, sliding my hands up to cup and knead at her breasts, so soft and warm, massaging the reddened skin where the corset had been so tight, and thrilled by her sighs of relief and pleasure.
Leaning my chest up against her back, I stroked and kissed and filled my hands with her.
Bren dropped her head back to rest against my shoulder, one hand lifting up and back to slide into my hair and hold my head, urging me to keep my mouth open on her neck.
“Is this what nobles do?” she whispered, her nipples hardening under my fingers. “Have tea and then make love to each other?” I played my thumbs over those puckered peaks, enjoying her gasp and twitch in response.
“I haven’t seen a great deal of love in the Court,” I growled, then licked the shell of her ear. She shivered. “But I love you, Bren and… dear God.” I latched onto her neck, sucking harder than I should. But I was voracious for her.
Unable to resist, I slid both hands down her belly, under the loose waistband of the dress and skirts, then over her hips, letting all that fabric gather at my wrists, and sliding it down her body until it fell in a deep puddle around her shins.
She started to turn, but I nipped her skin and held her in place, bringing one hand back up to her breast, sliding the other down, between her legs, and almost howling when I found her already slick.
Bren raised both hands then, gripping my hair, my neck, using me to balance as she widened her stance as much as the thick skirts on the floor would allow, and when I entered her with one finger, her breath caught.
It was the smallest thing, the simplest detail, but I felt the pleasure spark where I touched her and roll through her body—felt her body ripple against mine, and the heat my touch inspired in her.
Touching her, penetrating her, holding her… my body roared for more, but I was still half-dressed. I didn’t want to let her go, didn’t want to stop, and yet—
“Donavyn, please.”
She twisted her shoulders towards me, looking at me, but leaving her body in my hands. I slipped a second finger into her, and huffed with need when her eyes fluttered and her hips rolled into my touch.
“Holy fuck, Bren.”
“I—”
I couldn’t wait. Praying she’d forgive me, I wrapped my arms around her middle and lifted her, stepping as carefully as I could over those expensive skirts, to set her back on her feet next to the bed.
I had to let her go, to unbuckle my belt and leathers, and my stunning mate took the opportunity to turn, her breasts brushing my stomach as she pulled the shirt off my shoulders, then slid her hands down into my trousers to shove them off in much the same way I’d done with her skirts, but she opened her mouth on my chest as she did it, kissing her way down as she freed me from the leather.
My body thrilled. I knew if I let her, she’d take me in her mouth, and with the rabid need building behind my navel, it would be moments before I’d spill in her. But I didn’t want that.
With a growl, I caught her chin and pulled her up before she reached for me, taking her mouth and kissing her so deeply, I worried if she could breathe.
Then, with a gasp, I broke the kiss and took her by the shoulders, turning her and bending her over the bed, one hand flat between her shoulder blades, positioning myself with the other, then sliding up, reaching under to cup her breast as I eased into her.
Bren’s head fell back and she gave a delighted moan, then her breath caught as I withdrew. Her hands gripped the quilts in fists, and she leaned on her elbows, bracing as I took her again. And again.
I’d intended to slow this down. To take my time. But the sight of her, bent for me, legs spread, back arched, and the sound of her high cries were fuel to the fire within me.
“Bren… I… can’t stop.”
“Don’t!” she gasped, then whimpered when I took her harder.
“One day,” I rasped, pumping into her, stroking her beautiful body, “one day, I’ll find you having tea and pull you out of the room to lift those skirts. Have you just like this—”
“Yes.”
“Pin you to a wall until you have to bite your tongue so you don’t scream.”
“Yes.”
Grunting with the effort of holding my body back, I pounded into her so hard, our thighs slapped. Bren dropped her head to the quilt, her cries growing rhythmic as I picked up the pace.
“One day… shit—” She tightened around me and her knees began to shake. I grabbed for her hips and kept going. “I’ve got you… fuck… I’ve got you, Bren.”
Then she looked back over her shoulder, her eyes glazed and lower lip slack. “I want you to do that to me… just… hide me—oh, God!”
Her eyes rolled back in the same moment she clamped on me and began to twitch. A guttural roar broke in my throat as the surge of her orgasm reached me through the bond and shoved my pleasure past restraint.
I crashed into freefall, still thrusting, tipping over her, grabbing her hand and pinning it to the quilts as our bodies writhed and jerked, and the calls of love and need echoed in the room.
The world disappeared for long seconds, in which the only thing I knew was the ecstasy of her. Her warm, supple body, her high, keening cries, her tantalizing touch…
And then we crashed, collapsing onto the bed in an awkward tangle, my feet still encased in my boots, and ankles tied by my leathers.
Grunting, twitching as the final throes of my orgasm snapped through my veins, I rolled us to the side and held her to me, eventually finding the clarity to toe off my boots and leathers, and curl my body around her.
With a shaking hand, I pulled the pillow down to rest my head on it and held her. Her head on my arm, her body cradled in mine. Still joined. Still stunned.
And so fucking grateful that she was mine.