Chapter 57 #2
If I could bottle the way he looked at me, I would. With his mouth ajar, he peered into me—not at or through. That gaze of adoration nearly undid me, and we’d barely begun.
“Are you certain this is what you want?” I asked. “There is no going back.”
Once we crossed this line, there would be no more coy flirtation, no more skirting the inevitable. I’d fallen so far; I couldn’t bear losing him.
He swallowed hard. “I’ve been certain, Elsedora.”
That damned adoring look.
He’d ruin me right back.
“Good. Then, pants off,” I demanded.
He graced me with another groan of appreciation before he flung his belt aside. I began working on the buttons of my skirt, but he reached down and tore them apart, stripping the fabric away.
I gasped out a laugh. “I liked that skirt!” No undergarments lay beneath it, and his throat rumbled.
“I like this a whole lot better. I’ll replace whatever else I break,” he promised.
He wouldn’t break anything irreplaceable—like the thinning walls of my heart which raced only for him.
I claimed his lips. Maybe I’d regret bedding him—maybe he should be with the pretty florist, or a younger immortal, or someone who didn’t have so many dark memories to work through.
Selflessness evaded me as I pushed the waistband of his breeches down and freed him, taking his length into my hand. He hissed through his teeth, breaking our kiss.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“What vulgar language, pet,” I teased before biting his earlobe and stroking him between us. The huffs of breath against my neck left warm condensation in their wake.
He reached between my thighs, circling my core with his thumb. I grew slicker beneath his touch, grinding against his pinned hand with a moan as he worked me to a near peak far too quickly.
“Damn that noise,” he breathed out as his abdomen tensed against my strokes, and his hips bucked against me.
“Yes, let go,” I encouraged him, craving the view of his head thrown back into the soft linens.
“Not yet.” He used his free hand to grip my ass and drag me up to his chest, forcing me to release him. I opened my mouth to protest, but he pushed two fingers inside of me. My vision blurred, and I moaned.
“Come here,” he demanded, curling his digits into my throbbing heat.
I wasn’t one to let someone command me in the bedroom, but I melted. Whatever fantasies he had in mind, I’d play them out. Every single one.
Before words came to me, he’d pulled his hand from my center and lifted my hips so that my thighs encased his head.
“Sit down,” he said and pressed my legs apart. Grasping his hair, I moaned again when his tongue parted me and sank down further, allowing him to delve in.
My inner walls constricted in anticipation. His hum of appreciation only heightened my arousal. When my pleasure reached a crescendo, a guttural cry erupted from my throat.
He pulled my hips down so that he could look up at me as I sat on his chest, still grinding against him, seeking more waves of pleasure.
“I’ve been dreaming of that all week—been waking up hard and wanting nothing but you. You are all I need. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I’ll live out whatever dreams you desire.”
I’d never been so aroused and ready for more so quickly—and all it’d taken was affirmations of his devotion.
My willingness to hand myself over should have scared me away. Yet here, in the bed that I’d never taken another to, no threats out in the world, no sinking feeling of impending doom could touch us.
I feared nothing but losing him.
“Now, scoot up,” I ordered him.
He did as he was told, and when his back rested against my headboard, I stayed on my knees, taking the time to enjoy the sight. The deep contour of his muscles, the flustered sheen on his face—perfection.
“Is torturing me your dream, wildflower?” he said as he let his head fall against the headboard. He stroked himself once while his eyes trailed over me.
I quirked a brow. “Would you like that?”
“Not today,” he answered as his hips lifted and writhed against the bedsheets. Another time I’d tease him and make him beg.
I smirked and crawled to him. When I straddled his waist and reached between us, he let out a deep breath before he asked, “How can I be this lucky?”
Our eyes collided as I lined him up at my entrance. I kissed away his words, and for once, I felt worthy of them.
Gripping my hips, he pulled me down, hard, onto him, thrusting up and drawing a high-pitched whimper out of me. I’d never been one to hold back, but I wasn’t even dramatizing for his benefit as he filled me.
He groaned into my mouth, and I swallowed the delicious sound, hungry for more of his bliss.
He broke away and lowered his mouth to my neck, nipping at the delicate skin there, and then to the peak of my breast where he swirled his tongue.
I rewarded him with my back arching and hips rising and falling onto him. As he stretched me, I couldn’t help but let out a quiet curse.
“Come for me, pet,” I gasped out.
I needed to watch him unravel beneath me, needed this sweet torment of tension to unwind itself. He thrust into me faster, keeping pace with my grinding hips.
“You first, and my name better be on your breath when you do,” he retorted, sinking his teeth into my shoulder with a deep strangled moan. He held back from what I knew he wanted so badly, waiting for me.
The windowpanes slammed open as a gust of wind swept through the room. It whirled around us as I let out a cry. My body turned over to him, knees weak and chest meeting his.
“Let go now. Come with me,” I pleaded into his ear.
His hips bucked and pace quickened as I shattered—and did as I was told.
“Emmerick,” I moaned.
When he tensed and a guttural sound escaped him, I dug my fingers into the hard planes of his shoulders as he slammed in to the hilt and spilled into me, crying out.
Neither of us moved to separate; my bones were surely molten. The rise and fall of his chest lifted me; our pulses thrummed together.
Everything about it felt right.
We lay there, entwined long after our hearts had slowed—his arms an impenetrable fortress around me. Which was lucky, because I could float to the ceiling with how light I felt.
I was whole.
He was home.