Chapter 30
DRALGOR
The scent of fresh-cut pine and woodsmoke fills the master suite, the fire casting our shadows, long and dancing, against the new log walls.
Clara’s skin is warm gold in the flickering light, her smile a quiet, perfect thing I still can’t believe belongs to me.
I lower her onto the thick furs spread before the hearth, my hands spanning her waist.
“This is ours,” she whispers, her fingers tracing my jaw. “All of it.”
I cover her body with mine, the weight a familiar comfort, a claiming that needs no words. My mouth finds hers, not in conquest, but in a slow, deep tasting.
Her lips part on a sigh, and I drink her in, the taste of her like coming home. My hands roam, relearning the dip of her spine, the swell of her hips, the incredible softness of her skin. She arches into my touch, a soft sound catching in her throat.
“Dralgor.” My name is a prayer on her lips.
I shift lower, my mouth trailing a path down her neck, over the frantic pulse at its base, to the peak of one breast. I take her nipple into my mouth, laving it with my tongue until she gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair.
Her hips roll against mine, a silent, desperate plea.
I slide a hand between her legs, finding her hot and slick, already ready for me.
A groan rumbles in my chest. “So wet for me.”
“Always,” she breathes, her eyes dark with need. “Please.”
I guide myself to her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her warmth.
I push inside, a slow, inexorable slide that steals the air from both our lungs.
She is perfection, tight and welcoming, a heat that threatens to undo me.
I bury myself to the hilt, pausing there, my forehead pressed to hers, our breaths mingling.
“You feel…” I start, but words fail. They always do.
She answers by wrapping her legs around my hips, pulling me deeper. I begin to move, a steady, building rhythm. The only sounds are the crackle of the fire and our ragged breathing, the soft, wet sounds of our joining.
Each thrust is a promise, a vow sealed in this room we built together. I drive into her, again and again, her body meeting mine with equal fervor. Her nails dig into my shoulders, her cries growing louder, more urgent.
I move inside her, a rhythm as ancient as the mountains outside our window. Each thrust is a deliberate claiming, a reacquainting of my body with the only home I’ve ever known. Her pussy grips my cock like a silken fist, hot and perfect, and a groan tears from my throat.
Her breath hitches, her head tipping back into the furs. “More.”
I hook my arms under her knees, spreading her wider, opening her up to my every movement.
The angle changes, and I drive into her deeper, finding a spot that makes her cry out, a sharp, beautiful sound that goes straight to my core.
Her back arches off the floor, her fingers scrambling against my forearms.
“Right there,” she gasps, her eyes squeezed shut. “God, Dralgor, right there.”
I focus on that spot, my hips pistoning, each stroke a little harder, a little faster.
The firelight plays over her face, catching the sheen of sweat on her brow.
I lean down, capturing her mouth again, swallowing her moans.
My tongue mimics the thrust of my cock, and she meets me with a hunger that matches my own.
I break the kiss, my breath ragged. “Touch yourself.”
Her eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure.
She doesn’t hesitate. Her hand slides between our bodies, her fingers finding her clit.
A shudder runs through her the moment she touches herself, and her inner muscles clench around me so tightly it’s almost painful.
I watch her, mesmerized, as she circles that sensitive nub, her hips moving in time with my thrusts.
The sight of her pleasure, the feel of her coming apart beneath me, pushes me closer to the edge. My control begins to fray. I can feel the tension coiling in the base of my spine, a gathering storm. Her breaths are coming in short, sharp pants now, her movements growing more frantic.
Her body goes rigid beneath me, a silent scream parting her lips as her climax crashes over her.
Her pussy convulses around my cock, a series of tight, fluttering pulses that milk me, pulling my own release from the very depths of me.
I drive into her one last, deep time as I come, my roar muffled against her neck, my entire world narrowing to the feel of her, the scent of her, the perfect, shattering union.
I stay buried inside her for a long moment, our harsh breaths the only sound in the room. I press a kiss to her damp temple, my body still thrumming.
Before she can fully soften beneath me, I slide out.
A soft, protesting whimper escapes her. I grip her hip and turn her onto her stomach with a gentle firmness.
She goes willingly, pliant and boneless from her orgasm.
I pull her hips up, positioning her on her knees, and she arches her back, presenting herself to me without a word.
The firelight glows on the curve of her ass.
I guide my cock back to her slick entrance, pushing into her from behind. This angle is deeper, more primal. A low, satisfied groan rumbles in my chest as I fill her completely.
She pushes back against me, meeting my first thrust with a soft, eager sound. Her hands fist in the furs beneath us.
I set a new rhythm, slower now but no less intense. Each stroke is a deliberate, deep glide. I lean over her, bracing my hands on either side of her shoulders, my chest pressing against her back. I can feel the frantic beat of her heart against my skin.
“You take me so well,” I murmur into her ear, my voice rough.
Her answer is a breathy moan as I angle my hips, hitting a spot that makes her gasp. “Dralgor…”
I slide one hand around her hip, my fingers finding her clit again. She’s so sensitive, so swollen, and she jolts at the contact. I circle the tight bud with a firm, steady pressure, my cock moving inside her in a counter-rhythm.
Her breathing fractures into little pants. Her inner muscles begin to tighten around me again, a sweet, familiar clenching. “I’m… I’m close.”
“I know.” I press my lips to the nape of her neck, my thrusts becoming more urgent, driving us both toward the edge once more. “Come for me again.”
My thrusts become a frantic, driving rhythm, a race toward a finish line we both desperately need.
Her pussy clenches around my cock, a silken, rhythmic pulse that pulls a guttural groan from deep within my chest. I feel her entire body tighten, a bowstring drawn to its limit, and then she shatters.
Her cry is muffled by the furs, a raw, beautiful sound of release that echoes in the quiet room.
The convulsions of her climax milk me, dragging my own orgasm up from the depths.
I bury myself to the hilt as I come, my roar a possessive, primal thing against her skin.
My release is a hot, endless flood, and I hold her hips tight against mine, keeping us locked together as we both shudder through the aftershocks.
For a long moment, there is only the sound of our ragged breathing and the crackle of the fire. I collapse beside her, pulling her into my arms, her back to my chest. I press my face into her hair, breathing in the scent of her, of us.
Her hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together over her heart. Her voice is a soft, breathless whisper in the firelit dark.
“I love you.”
The words hit me with the force of a physical blow, but it’s a blow that heals, that rebuilds.
A feeling I have no name for cracks open my chest, warm and terrifying and perfect.
A grin spreads across my face, wide and unchecked, a feeling so foreign it’s like being reborn.
I press a kiss to her shoulder, my heart hammering against her spine.
"And I, you."