Page 111 of Secrets of Avalon

My heart races. "Are you sure?"

She shifts forward to make space. "Please."

Without hesitation, I step in behind her. The tub is spacious enough for us both, and I settle myself against the back, my legs stretching out on either side of Melinda. Carefully, she leans back, her spine aligning with my chest.

"Good?" I ask softly, my arms loosely encircling her waist.

Melinda relaxes against me, her head resting on my shoulder. "It's perfect," she murmurs.

Tension slowly melts away from her body as the warm, fragrant water works its magick. My thumbs trace soothing circles on her skin beneath the water's surface. She sighs, a soft sound of contentment that eases the knot of fear that had lodged itself in my chest.

"Hawke," she murmurs, turning her head to nuzzle against my neck. "I'm sorry I scared you."

I tighten my arms around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You're safe now. That's all that matters."

She shifts in my embrace, her body turning to face me. Her eyes, clear and present, meet mine. Gone is the terror that haunted them earlier. In its place, I see love, trust, and a spark of desire that sets my blood aflame and turns my cock to granite. She drags her body against my cock and I groan.

“Flip back around, love,” I say, turning her on my lap again.

“Hawke, I–”

“I know what you need, sweet girl.” I grip her around the waist and lift her up. “Tuck your feet back toward me, so that you’re still on your knees.” I line up my cock and sit her right down on top of me. I sink deep, loving the way her body shudders.

She moans and rocks, bouncing on me just a little.

“That’s it. Good girl.” I keep one hand on a hip and reach around and cup one of her breasts, rolling the nipple between my fingers, and tugging firmly until she whines beautifully. Her body softens, surrendering to mine.

“Mine,” I growl, pulling her back to my chest and biting down on the bite mark I left on her shoulder.

I bury myself deep inside her again.

She comes apart with a scream, her body pulsing tightly around me, bringing my release crashing down hard after hers.

CHAPTER 42

Dress Fitting Jitters

Melinda Mayweather

The dressing room bustles with activity as I stand atop a raised dais, arms outstretched. Queen Isolde’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she circles me, her gaze critical yet kind. The royal modiste, Lady Suriel, flits around us both, her fingers weaving intricate patterns in the air.

"Perhaps a deeper neckline?" the Queen suggests, gesturing towards my chest.

Lady Suriel nods, her brow furrowed in concentration. With a flick of her wrist, shimmering threads of magic dance through the air, coalescing around my torso. I gasp as the fabric takes shape, molding itself to my curves.

"Oh, that's lovely," I breathe, watching my reflection in the floor-length mirror. The bodice now hugs my figure, the neckline dipping just so.

Queen Isolde hums thoughtfully. "Indeed, but let's try something else.” She turns to a nearby table laden with swatches of fabric and intricate lace samples. "Suriel, could we see how it looks with this moon-lace on the sleeves?"

I watch, mesmerized, as the sleeves on my arms lengthen and shift, the fabric's texture morphing repeatedly as the two women debate. The skirt billows and contracts, the bodice reshapes itself–an endless dance of possibility. The entire experience leaves me dizzy.

Queen Isolde catches my eye in the mirror, her smile warm and knowing. "How are you holding up, dear?"

I inhale deeply, grounding myself as another set of delicate lace sleeves materializes. "Overwhelmed," I admit. "But not in a bad way."

Queen Isolde's smile softens, understanding in her eyes. "I remember my own fitting day before I married Theon.”

Gratitude washes over me at her empathy. "It's not just the dress," I confess. "Everything here is so... different. Magick flows freely, helping instead of hurting. On Earth, any magickal act comes with a terrible cost."

---