One #8
“I’ve a great need of privacy. And little need of food. Or drink. You agree?”
She nodded.
“Good.”
“But … the guests.” She waved a hand out towards the faceless crowd.
“Can finish without us. Rory! Greggor! Reeb!” Gavynn yelled the names as he stood.
“My Laird?”
There was reaction happening about him. Laughter. Jibing. Hilarity. Gavynn wasn’t facing it. Maybe tomorrow, when tales of his eagerness would probably get written into love-imbued sonnets. Maybe then. But not now.
“See us to my chamber. Now!”
She was walking at first, taking steps so small they irritated with delay. Gavynn had her in his arms before they reached the archway leading to the towers. Much to everyone’s further amusement.
Six
They’d given him the largest tower room, where a fireplace warmed the interior.
Brielle kept her face firmly into his neck the entire time it took to reach there.
She knew the sounds of entertainment filling the great room they’d left, felt the firm grasp holding her for a jog up the stairs, heard the slam of the door, felt the instability of shaky legs on a wooden floor, and then watched as he dropped the bolt, sealing them in.
Alone.
Her legs were trembling, threatening a drop as he approached, moving with steady silent strides towards her, before stopping within reach, his chest expanding with huge gulps of breath.
“I … uh …” Her voice was missing. Brielle swallowed.
“Doona’ say anything. Please?”
“But, I—”
“You doona’ obey the slightest thing! I warn you, Wife.” He moved a step closer, taking up her entire vision, while both hands reached, stopping just shy of clasping her about the waist.
“You’ve a voice to melt ice, breath that torments, and words that steal wits. I’ve little left to fight it. Verra little.”
“Fight … what?”
“This!”
He had her yanked into an embrace, her feet off the floor, and his lips at her forehead.
Heavy heartbeats pumped from his chest into hers, while each breath cooled heated cheeks.
Brielle’s heart met each and every beat.
Her breaths mingled with his, and then he trailed his mouth to hers, taking her lips in a kiss unlike any before.
If she could have, Brielle would’ve swooned.
She knew it would feel like the disembodied sensation of him carrying her to his enclosed bed, tossing her without thought on to the coverlet and following the motion with his body.
She felt her shoulder strap slide, warmth following as his fingers trailed her arm, pushing fabric.
He went to a bow shape to press his kiss to her throat.
His hands shoving and sliding fabric, until the naked awareness of her nipples met the linen of his shirt.
Brielle gasped, moved her hands to his shoulders, rubbing and massaging and gaining vast reservoirs of wet and want that started at her core and spread from there.
And then he was sending the torment to higher levels, using his tongue to trace a trail of ice and fire right to where her nipples were hard darts of ache.
And then he lapped at a nipple, sending her body into an arch of sensation and wonder.
Brielle melted. Throbbed. Pulsed. Careened.
And sent a cry until her breath ran out and she had to gain another.
His chuckle made the sensation worse. So much worse, Brielle grabbed at his arms to hold him in place.
Was still there as he lifted, brought his kiss back to hers, and lapped where she couldn’t gain enough.
His belt fell, landing momentarily at where the satin pooled at her waist, before he shoved it aside.
His kilt followed, as a sail of fabric she barely saw.
Brielle was beyond it. Her arms were wrapped about his chest, glued there to keep the sensations of both nipples to a livable level.
Panted with him. And then accepted his weight.
Her skirts tore. She heard it as well as felt the release of material separating their loins, and then she felt the strangeness of him. Hard. Thick. Hot. Huge.
“Open for me, Love. Open …”
The whisper trembled through her ear, sent in gasps of breath that slithered over where he’d lifted in a push-up from her. His hair had come untied as well, leaving strands to brush and tickle her cheeks, her nose … her lips. Brielle held on.
“Wrap your legs about me.”
He lowered his head, into the space beside her shoulder, using it as a fulcrum to release his hands.
Brielle felt them at her hips, lifting her.
Holding her in place so he could slide against her innermost area, toying.
Exciting. Stimulating. Inciting and agitating and creating a whorl of pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known.
Brielle went wild.
Surges of absolute bliss flew into her, and she shoved back, accepting and expanding, and then learning absolute agony.
“Easy, lass.”
“It … hurts, Gavynn. It—”
“I ken, Love. ’Tis only the first time. Truly, and – Lord! Doona’ do that again!”
Brielle’s eyes went wide as red suffused every bit of his flesh. His entire body went tense, taut, and statue-still, trembling with a vastness that moved her with it. A long groan fled his lips, pushed with his exhalation. Gavynn dropped his head, found her mouth, and sucked every breath she gave.
Brielle’s moan matched his, her tongue as well, rinsing the pain into a memory with every lunge he made. Every pull from the embrace of her flesh. Return. Over and over, with increasing need and energy fuelling each thrust.
Brielle clung harder, holding to every bit of the wild thing that was Gavynn as he bucked and heaved.
Her arms and legs strained, filled with the ache of holding, her mouth moved, sucking on the delicate skin just below his ear, while her entire experience filled with tension.
Building. Rising. Sending flickers of excitement with every touch of his body into hers.
Creating tendrils of sensation that kept coming.
And just when she didn’t think she could catch another breath, everything erupted.
Brielle cried aloud, her eyes clenched tight as waves of wonder flowed over her, taking her higher than the room could contain and wider than the sky could manage.
And keeping her there for entire heartbeats of time while he continued pumping into her, sending waves atop the others.
And just when she thought she might die of the ecstasy, he ceased all movement.
Brielle held on as Gavynn’s entire body tightened as he groaned, long and low, his body heaving and pulsing against hers. And then he stopped, opened his eyes to look down at her, and then collapsed; rolling at he did so, and taking her with him.
His heartbeat was at thunder level, hurtful to her ear, while each breath was heavy, matching hers and sending his muscled belly into hers.
He was covered in a thin film of wet, making a godlike creature that glowed with each flare from the fire.
Brielle had never seen or experienced anything so beautiful.
She reached with a finger and trailed it alongside his face, and then traced his lips. He kissed it.
“Gavynn?”
“Aye?”
One eye slit open, catching her rapt gaze, and then his body pulsed alongside hers, moving her with it.
“That was …” Brielle stopped. She didn’t know how to describe the ecstatic feeling still filling her.
“I dinna’ hurt you overmuch?” He asked.
Brielle’s eyes widened. “You meant to hurt?”
He smiled, showing every bit of handsomeness and making her heart lurch. She was frightened for what that could mean. And with a man she barely knew. She watched him lift a lock of her hair and take it to his lips. And place a kiss reverently on the hair strands, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Nae. Never. The first time always pains, love. ’Tis na’ much a man can do to prevent such. ’Twill na’ pain the next time.”
“Next … time?”
His smile widened. “I’m verra certain there’ll be a next time. And a time after that. And then more. That is how a man shows his wife he’s verra much in love with her.”
“In love?” Her voice was missing. It got lost in tears that obliterated him until she blinked them out of the way.
The smile spread to his eyes. “Damn my tongue for admitting it, but aye. I’m in love with you, Wife, or I’m ill. Either frightens me.”
It wasn’t the best time to cry, but that didn’t stop her. Brielle would tell him later why. For now he had to guess it from her happy embrace.