Chapter 21 George and Isahn make love. #2
He hummed happily, her bosom soft and squishy against his face as a delightful shiver ran up his spine. The apprehension of leaving her loomed in the background, but he refused to give credence to those fears, to that dread.
George laughed, husky and sultry as she shoved her hands into Isahn’s hair and forced him to come up for air.
“I need you,” she admitted, her words carrying a deep, almost painful double meaning. “I want you naked. Now.”
“Yes, Princess.” He peppered one last smattering of kisses over the exposed tops of her breasts, then rose up on his knees. With one of her soft legs pinned between his thighs, Isahn tugged at his tunic, ripping it over his head and turning his attention to his trousers.
George murmured her appreciation, fondling herself for him.
Love, he thought with a grin as he unfastened the cord on his linen pants. Before he could remove them, George’s hands were there, hot and needy, peeling them down herself.
Isahn didn’t bother with small clothes in Domos. Their style of undergarment was different and not entirely to his liking, so he’d eschewed the practice. Something Georgie apparently appreciated very much, if her squeal was anything to go by.
When his cock sprang free, she wrapped her warm palm around his length, using it to tug him down to her. He pulled back, remaining upright, and she squeezed his head before releasing him with a pout. Pleasure tightened his abdomen.
Once his trousers were kicked off, he captured her smoldering gaze. “Your turn,” he growled and pounced, wrapping her in his naked embrace and rolling them so he was beneath her supple body.
“Oh!” George shrieked before popping onto her knees and straddling one of his thighs.
Isahn nudged his knee up, pressing it into bunched-up fabric and her.
The heat of her sex escaped the thin linen of her dress, seeping into him, warming his soul.
He didn’t just want to see her nude, he needed to—needed to etch her in his memory for the long road home—every movement, every soft curve, every gasp, everything that made her uniquely George.
The sense of urgency hurt, tightening behind his ribs.
Georgie set about divesting herself of her clothing, tossing her fibulae to clatter onto the bedside table, before the fabric of her gown dropped and pooled around her waist, freeing her large breasts.
His hands lazily explored her body, and his mind wandered, inspecting his very soul. Gazing up at the beautiful woman on him, a profound sense of comfort, purpose—of rightness settled in.
He’d never been in love before. This was a first.
Yes, he’d loved people: family and friends.
And of course, he’d experienced the simple pleasures of lust and attraction.
He’d once thought himself knowledgeable on the matter as a whole—had been absolutely certain he’d experienced romantic love when he was studying at the Institute as a young buck of seventeen.
Oh, how wrong he’d been. This was love. And it would never, ever, cease to surprise him.
George settled on him, fully nude, her hot core pressed shamelessly against his thigh. Her breasts hung heavy between them, and he couldn’t help himself; reaching up to tweak her nipples earned Isahn a mew in response.
Distantly aware he was in the eye of a storm, he appreciated the fine weather and studied the way George’s black lashes fanned out against her copper skin each time she blinked.
He loved the way the beauty spot on her cheek scooted upward when her lips curled.
And he itched to kiss the corner of her smirking mouth.
So, he did.
He pulled her in close, he memorized her, feathering kisses over her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her adorably round nose, before landing on her soft lips. She opened for him, dipping her small pink tongue into his mouth while her hips rolled, slicking his thigh with her wetness.
“George,” he moaned, hands finding purchase on her plump arse. He squeezed, then softened his grip to support her natural movements. With his knee bent further, pressing firmly against her, she wriggled against him. “Use me. Take your pleasure. Come for me.”
“I want you though, we’ve been over this,” she panted into his mouth. Georgie’s stern words didn’t match the moan that punctuated them.
Isahn slid his hands up her smooth back, his thumbs swooping over her curves and coming to rest beneath her breasts. “If you come once like this, the next part will be much more enjoyable, or so I’ve been told.”
She grunted her agreement, words impossible as her tongue dipped back into his mouth and she resumed pleasure-seeking in earnest.
Their breathing became one, mingling in a sweet, intoxicating blend as they lost themselves to the moment.
Coherent thought fled his mind. All that remained was emotion, everything he’d felt over the past weeks, coursing through him, flowing over him as he grasped her bottom with one hand while his other tended to her breasts.
Isahn spun in the deluge: the early charming realization that George wasn’t anything like her father, the fear when Gasparo slapped her, the horror of realizing they were all caged by the king.
He bathed in his love for Domos’s future queen, and used the force of that feeling to dam up the terror that flooded him at the idea of leaving her side.
Because she loved him, and he was certain he could weather the other half of the storm to get back to her.
George panted against his shoulder, kissing forgotten as she rocked harder and faster against him. “Touch me,” she ground out before biting the sensitive skin of his neck.
“Anything,” he rumbled, slipping his hand between her thighs, palm pressing against her clit. His fingers slid against her sensitive center, and he slipped the middle one into her entrance, dipping in and out, awaiting her approval.
“Yes,” she hissed as she rocked against him again, her breasts bouncing in time with her movements, tantalizingly close to his face.
Isahn pushed deeper, her slick warmth clenching around his single digit. So tight.
“More,” George commanded, earning a chuckle from him as he added a second finger, moving slowly so she had time to accommodate him.
That was what she needed. Georgie writhed, tipping forward as she quickened her pace, grinding against the heel of his palm. His fingers curled within her, applying counter pressure, and he took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and teasing with his tongue and teeth.
It wasn’t long before she cried out his name, convulsing around him as she shattered.
Her breathing ragged, George fell forward and braced herself on her forearms. Her bosom suffocated him in a glorious death. “Deiwa hathemi,” she mumbled.
He slid his fingers from inside her, but kept his palm cupped against her pulsing sex. “Still want me?”
“Yes.”
A gruff sound of happiness emerged from somewhere in the back of his throat, and he brought his hands to George’s hips. “Do you want to be on top?”
“No. You.”
With that, he flipped her onto her back and settled between her legs. The head of his throbbing erection teased against her swollen clit as he dropped down to kiss her.
“Isahn,” she whined into his mouth, taking him in hand with needy, frantic fingers. “Now.”
So demanding. He bloody loved it. Bracing himself, he put his hand over the top of hers and guided himself to her entrance.
Like love, he’d apparently never known the meaning of restraint before in his life. But as he sat there, with his throbbing member pressed against her wetness, Isahn used every fucking ounce in his body. With a minuscule thrust, he pushed his head inside of her.
She was so fucking tight her walls felt like a fist, squeezing the crown of his cock, urging him to come before he’d begun the act in earnest. She couldn’t take him; she was too small.
“What’s wrong?” George asked, noticing the way he’d stilled.
“I’m so afraid I’m going to hurt you. Do you know what to expect?”
Her hands found their way around to his backside, where she squeezed, fingernails digging into his muscled flesh. “Yes. I trust you. If it hurts, we’ll stop.”
He pressed his lips to her mouth in a searing kiss and pushed onward, sinking into her. Beneath him, George’s face pinched and she whimpered.
Heart clenching, he tried to withdraw, but she stopped him. With a firm grip on his arse, she rasped, “No. Stay. I’m adjusting.”
Frozen, his cock in absolute ecstasy, he waited for her muscles to relax. She’d chosen him. She loved him.
He didn’t want to leave.
Kissing her languidly, like his lips could slow time, he ran a thumb up her cheekbone and down her jaw while taking her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on her softness.
George moaned, fingertips pressing into his arse as she rolled her hips, urging him to move inside her.
He withdrew to the tip before gliding in again and again and again. Keeping his pace slow, he pressed soft kisses to her luscious mouth while she tangled her hands in his hair.
“Fuck, Isahn,” she breathed. “Don’t hold back. I want you—all of you.”
“You sure?”
She merely cocked a brow in response, because of course she was sure. She knew her own mind. It was one of an ever-growing list of reasons why he loved her.
So Isahn drove into his Georgie, only holding back a bit—it was her first time, after all.
She brought her legs up to wrap around his back, her ankles locking them together, pulling him deeper with every thrust. Her breasts bobbed in time with him as she matched his rhythm.
Hypnotized by her perfection, he cupped her mound and dipped his thumb down. She cried out in pleasure when he drew slow circles over her bud.
“Oh! I’m going to—” Georgie’s words devolved into a shuddered moan as she clenched him everywhere, her sex squeezing him so forcefully he almost popped out.
Burying his face into George’s hair, Isahn breathed deeply, drowning in her heady, rosy aroma. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she rasped before taking his earlobe in her mouth and sucking, hard.
He came quickly. And in the most torturous decision of his life, Isahn withdrew at the last second, directing his release onto the bare top of her perfect sex.
Panting, he slumped over Georgie, bracing himself to avoid crushing her under his full weight. She still wasn’t as close as he wanted her, so he hooked his left arm around the small of her back and flipped onto his side, taking her with him.
She responded adorably, throwing one of her legs over his hip and driving the other between his thighs. With a happy sigh, she pressed her breasts firmly against his chest and nuzzled into his tousled hair.
“That was amazing,” she murmured, voice barely a whisper.
Isahn grinned over her shoulder, the compliment nearly enough to ready him for a second round.
“I almost wish I hadn’t waited so many years,” she mused.
“That ‘almost’ is doing a lot of work,” he growled, squeezing her arse. “I am well aware of how selfish I sound, but I’m incredibly glad you waited for me.”
She giggled delightfully before Isahn captured her mouth in a soft kiss that spoke of his frustrations, and regrets at having to leave, and of the depths of their shared love—unexpected and rejuvenating. He’d never let her go.