Chapter 33 #2
Hil nodded.
“Even if this didn’t work—the mindmolding—we’ll be all right. Go. Go to your apartment or Dunstan’s. Tell Ean where you end up, and he’ll give you an update after I give him one.”
Hildy offered one last hopeful smile before leaving.
Finally alone with her earl, exhausted, and overflowing with anticipation, George did the best possible thing in an unideal situation. She tossed one leg over his torso, moved his left arm to wrap her in a very real and non-magical embrace, and pulled herself right up against his side.
“Come back, now,” she whispered into the crook of his neck, placing a kiss there before snuggling her head against his chest. “I want to dream with you again.”
George awoke to warm fingers tracing lazy lines up and down her lower back. “Isahn?” she rasped, voice rough from sleep.
“Georgie?”
She gasped. His chest rumbled with quiet laughter when her eyes popped open. Pushing herself up on her left elbow, she leaned over the top of him and studied his face. “Do you— Are you...?”
Laughter and love danced in his azure eyes as his left hand found the back of her previously perfect hairdo. He threaded his fingers through her curls and tugged her down.
With her hand on his chest, over his thundering heart, she soaked up strength from the connection and massaged his pectoral with the pad of her thumb, loving the feel of him, there, in the flesh. Finally.
“Did you know we were apart longer than we knew each other?” George mused.
He grunted a word that could have been “barely,” but she couldn’t tell, her mouth was already touching down on his.
Their warm lips worked against one another as their hands roamed, untamed and uncorralled. For several long moments, they greeted each other in silence, save the pops of their kisses and gasped breaths.
Finally, Isahn drew back, cupping George’s face in his palms as he studied her. Heat engorged her heart and pooled at her core as he traced a slow line over her swollen bottom lip with his thumb.
“How do you feel?” she whispered.
“George Kastrumanos, I remember everything. I love you so much, and I never want to leave your side, ever again.”
His words were a balm to the wound of losing him for so many cruel weeks.
Stitch by stitch, her weary heart knitted together again, restored by his return.
His love, his unwavering support, his trust in her.
It was no different on paper from what she shared with her friends, yet what Isahn and she found in each other, what they built together, was remarkable.
They were more than the sum of their parts.
He completed her, supported her unequivocally, lifting her, grounding her, rebuilding her.
Grabbing his face right back, she announced, “I love you so much, Isahn Yaranbur. I missed you more than I can ever express, and I’m so fucking glad you’re back—in every way.” She grinned, and he pulled her into another kiss that began with them smiling into each other’s mouths.
Eventually, she paused and rested her forehead against his. “Isahn, would you call me by my full name?”
“Of course. Are you sure?”
“It’s time to reclaim every part of who I am. I have to get ready for who I need to become.”
“Full name all the time?” he asked with a cheeky smirk.
“Sometimes,” she clarified. “In the most important situations.”
Isahn chuckled, sat up, and repositioned George on his lap so she straddled him. Her thighs hugged the outsides of his, and her center pressed directly against the irrefutable evidence of his arousal.
“Well then.” He rolled his hips and wrapped a solid arm around her waist. His other hand tipped her chin down so he could stare into her eyes. “I love you, Georgetta Kastrumanos, future Queen of Domos.”
She couldn’t help but squeal as her name left his lips. It sounded perfect. It sounded right, finally.
“What time is it?” He toyed gently with the fabric of her dress, picking and pulling at the various pleats and ties as if considering the best possible way to get it off.
“The middle of the night. No one will bother us—not until I summon them.” With her nose buried in his thick hair, she nuzzled the top of his head.
“Good.” His response came back muffled by her breasts, currently plastered over his face.
Tearing at the bosom of her stola, he ripped right through the linen to get down to her tunic-covered and bound breasts, growling when he realized how much fabric remained.
George hopped off, tutting at the look of shock on his face. His two palms remained poised where her tits had been only moments before, and he pouted dramatically.
“I’m coming right back,” she promised, slipping her flouncy sleeves down her arms. For good measure, George used her magic to set a pair of weighty breasts in his open hands.
Isahn tossed his head back and laughed, giving the air a subtle squeeze.
She sent an invisible hand to cup the bulge in his pants.
He groaned, dropping his hands to his chest. “Hurry up, Georgetta.” His darkened eyes found hers, and the sheer heat of his piercing gaze sent a roaring flame to life at her core.
Nodding mutely, she stepped free of her stola.
Isahn’s right hand slid slowly down his torso as he watched her undress. Her heart leapt when he tugged his tunic up to access the waistband of his pants.
She let him get as far as loosening the tie before stepping in. “Ah, no. Shirt first.”
He hit her with a smoldering smile before tearing his tunic off and tossing it at her.
It landed on her head. Stifling a laugh, George inhaled his scent, enjoying his presence. Reluctantly, she peeled his shirt from her face and gazed upon his chiseled form through a haze of lashes. “Good. You may proceed.” Her command held more than a hint of laughter.
Isahn winked and thrust his hips into the air. His linen Domossan trousers and Selwassan-style undergarment were around his ankles and on the floor before she could even blink.
Fisting his cock shamelessly, he watched while she—distractedly—unbound her breasts, slipping the custom straps over her shoulders, and pushing them down her arms. Her actions were hurried as she struggled to catch up to his nudity.
Her fingers left a scorching trail on her skin. Good, but not what she wanted.
Focused solely on Isahn, she studied the rippling cords of muscles pulsing in his arm, the sheer size of his arousal as his hand stroked up and down its length, squeezing and twisting each time he reached the tip, the tensed carved muscles of his thighs.
Fabric fluttered to the floor as George stood bare before Isahn in the softly flickering lamplight.
His gaze raked over her reverently, lingering deliciously on her nipples, moving down to sear the spot between her thighs. Those deep sapphire eyes flicked up again to find hers. “I love you, Georgetta. And I need you, desperately. Get over here, this instant.”