Chapter 33
F yn returned. He carried a bag of something that smelled oily and savory along with a bottle of wine and a flask of something, probably water.
“I’m late, forgive me. I made a short trip to the bathhouse before the market.”
“A bath,” she sighed as she got up and went to open his bag of goods. “How I envy you.”
“Oh.” He looked guiltily at the water basin. “I can gather you some water after we eat, and you can bathe.”
“No need. I’ve already done so.”
“You left?”
“Just downstairs to get water to bathe.”
“Don’t do that again.”
She turned to him before she opened the bag of food in his hands. His look was serious, but he didn’t sound angry.
“If you need something, I will get it for you,” he continued.
“I can’t stay here forever.”
“No, you can’t, and you won’t.” He opened the bag before she could. “Just until tomorrow. ”
The tempting aroma of malaas quieted her rebuttal. He held what was in the bag out for her to smell. “ Malaas bread,” he said with a wink of his eye.
Malaas bread was made with hard, crusty bread, unlike the usual Dark Elf flatbread, and it was cut into large cubes and fried in oil. It looked like it was rolled in malaas spices after, so the spices coated the fried bread.
He rolled the bag open so they could eat from it. There was only one chair, so he sat on the floor. “You take it,” he told her. “I’ll sit here.”
How very noble of him. But she couldn’t let him be so chivalrous with her, not wanting to owe him any more than she already did, so she sat down on the floor beside him, but in a demure manner with her legs tucked beside her.
“No, we can eat on the floor,” she said, and took a drink of water from the flask. “It’s easier that way.”
He gave her a smile and placed the bag of malaas bread between them.
She picked up a piece of fried bread and took a bite.
There was an explosion of oil and flavor in her mouth.
Together with the spices and texture of the hard bread fried to soften it and make it slightly chewy, the taste was addictive.
After she ate the malaas bread, she looked down at her hand; the oil and spices from the bread coated her fingers.
“This is how we deal with that,” Fyn said and looked at her as he sucked on his fingers.
There was a suggestiveness to how he did it, though.
Everything about him was sensual, when he wasn’t bringing death from the shadows .
He then took a sip of the wine and noticed her watching. “Would you like some?” He held the bottle out to her.
She took it from his grasp, but didn’t drink it, giving it a whiff first. It smelled strong but had a note of subtly sweet elderberry. She took a small sip. It was sweet and not as strong as it had smelled.
“Careful with that,” he told her, and took back the bottle. “That’s Dark Elf wine, it’s stronger than it looks.”
As the evening wore on, and the malaas bread was gone, and all that remained was only a bit of the wine, which Aelrie was keeping all to herself, she felt at ease and sat in a more comfortable position, with crossed legs.
“You’re staring.” She picked up the bottle of wine and took a long swig, emptying what remained of it.
“You’re beautiful.”
She snorted a laugh, almost spitting out the wine. “Even without the makeup? You couldn’t stop staring at my lips earlier.”
“I wanted to kiss you. In fact, I want to kiss you whenever I look at you, as I do now.”
Leaning back on her hands, she arched toward him, bare torso exposed, knees parting to offer herself fully. “What’s stopping you?”
The wine was talking.
There was something of a growl or moan that uttered from his throat, and then he was on top of her. His tongue slid into her mouth with ease. The wine lingered on both their breaths, but she wanted more, grew greedy. Her tongue clashed with his, sending moans through his throat.
His hand slipped into her top and kneaded her breast. He found her nipple and made it harden.
The straps gave way easily, and the halter was flung aside.
He took her nipple into his mouth, and his skillful tongue flicked it and then sucked on it, drawing soft gasps from her parted lips.
One hand teased her other breast, switching with practiced ease.
The sensations spiraled downward with heat pooling between her thighs, leaving her slick with wanting.
Her neck dipped back as her body sank to the floor, but he picked her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, and carried her to the bed.
The soft, stuffed mattress met her naked back. He tore off his shirt, and she stared at his hard chest, rippling abs, and the lithe muscles on his arms.
His gray skin was smooth, flawless.
Their bare chests met.
His tongue claimed hers once more. He started grinding against her, and she responded by thrusting her hips up to meet his hardness. She wanted it more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life. Her hands tore at his pants to undo the buttons, but he caught them before she could.
Propped up on one arm, he dragged a heavy breath, looking down at her. His eyes were bright red as if fire from a volcano. “Are you sure? You are a maiden, and I … I am not so gentle… You deserve a better male than me.”
“I want it. I want you.” The anticipation coiled inside her .
“So be it,” he almost growled and kissed her deeply. She felt as though her lips might bruise.
She tried to match his intensity, but it was hard to keep up with him. His hips ground into hers again in a tantalizing motion mimicking his tongue in her mouth.
Her hands went down to take off his pants, and this time he let her. He shimmied out of them, and his erection, hard and solid, lay on her inner thigh. But he paid no mind to his own matters and focused solely on her.
He slipped her skirt down her legs, and a devious grin spread on his face as her sex spread out before him.
He opened her legs wider with his hands, revealing her to himself, and then dipped in between her thighs.
A loud moan escaped her throat when she felt his wet tongue on the most sensitive area of all.
It was happening again. This sensation.
Already, she felt like coming. She bit down on her bottom lip and tried to hold it back, wanting to enjoy this for as long as she could, but it was too much …
Another loud cry, and her head tossed back and forth.
The feeling was building. His tongue was swirling around in agonizing circles.
He then captured her clit with his mouth, and his fingers entered her, pumping her.
His magic fingers found the right spot, and she saw stars. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
This was bliss in its purity.
Feeling relaxed from her orgasm and nestling herself further down into the bed, he put his body on top of her, and she got to experience the full weight of a male for the first time, even though he saved her from bearing all of it by propping himself up on one elbow.
It was a rite of passage for sex, not just the physical act of opening yourself up, but of being able to bear the weight of a lover.
Her legs spread wider as his hips backed up, giving room for his length to enter her. Her entrance was wet, and that helped him glide in, but once inside her, that is when the pain began.
He went slowly, dipping in the tip and then the shaft little by little, filling her up. She cried a little as the pain grew.
“Shh, shh,” he whispered as he brushed his hand against her cheek. “Be strong. Take a little more of me.”
His breath caught in his mouth.
She nodded with a whimper, and he thrust deeper, which made her cry out loudly, different from the cries of pleasure from earlier.
“Little flower … smells so sweet … feels so soft.”
He slowly started to rock his hips back and forth in a gentle rhythm, but she winced with each roll of his hips.
Nearly imperceivable grunts issued from his throat with each thrust. The muscles on his arms pushed closer to her.
She was tight, her walls clamped around him, making her feel his every sensation.
Excitement and pleasure radiated from him, and she knew that he was holding back.
Pain slowly eased into pleasure for her, and with each moan of ecstasy that escaped her mouth, his thrusting became deeper, faster.
Her arms wrapped around his back, and her legs opened wider to take more of him.
He greedily accepted her invitation with sensual rolls of his hips, making her eyes roll in the back of her head and waves of pleasure crash against her.
Her second orgasm was less intense than her first, but now that she’d experienced having an orgasm through sex, she much preferred it. It was the closeness she felt to Fyn, the connection of their bodies, their hearts beating as one.
She never knew sex could feel so good. This is what she’d been missing out on. It was almost unfair that she’d kept this wonderful experience from herself all these years. But she was glad it was with Fyn, happy to have had this moment.
His thrusting became more frantic. He was climaxing, saving his orgasm for last. Such a generous lover. She held his back in an embrace as his seed entered her. He lay there for a moment, holding his weight so he did not crush her, and then gave her a long and deep kiss before he rolled off her.
His arm reached out for her and brought her closer to him. Her cheek touched his chest, both soft and strong, hearing his heartbeat pound inside his chest, and feeling the tingle of his skin touching hers, their senses open to everything, their bodies spent through intense stimulation.
She was protected here, cherished. His hand drew lazy circles on her back. “You might have some blood, and you might feel pain.” His voice was husky post orgasm. “But it will pass.”
The secure feeling disappeared as soon as it had appeared. Jealousy cut through her like a knife.
He’d had this experience before, taking a female’s maidenhood, obviously because he knew so much about it. Here, she thought this was something special between them, something sacred.
She pushed herself off his chest and got up.
He sat up in bed. “Where do you go?”
“I need water,” she said and took the basin from the table. “To wash.” To wash him out of her.
He got out of bed and stood up. “I’ll do it for you. Stay here.” With a sheet wrapped around his waist, he left to get water.
Aelrie sat on the bed. She felt many new things, and now jealousy was one of them. The wine had spent itself; her mind was clear.
She wanted this moment to be special, as special for him as it was for her. Her decision to forgo her vow of a lifetime without the pleasures of sex was momentous for her. The entire trajectory of her life changed in the span of one wine-filled evening.
She needed time to process what had just happened and how this assassin, once her sworn enemy, was now her lover.
He came back and saw her sitting naked on the bed, waiting for him. His eyes closed, and his head threw back with a sigh as a little sound escaped his mouth. He placed the basin of water on the table. “How about we go one more round?”
He began to climb on top of her again.
“No,” she responded rather coldly and pushed him away, getting up and walking toward the table.
She took the washcloth and then glanced back at him. He was looking at her expectantly. “Can you turn around? I need privacy.”
He turned to face the wall .
She washed herself and then got into bed, lying on her side, her back to him. His arm wrapped around her, and he kissed her shoulder as he cuddled up close behind her.
Why did he do this, make her feel special? Was she special to him, or was this a ruse? Somehow, despite her doubts, she felt it there in his embrace.