Page 82 of Enslaved

“Tell me you love me.” His lips press against the skin above my fluttering heart then retreat. Breathing hard, my chest rising and falling, I open my eyes, look down at him. Behold that hungry flame dancing in his gaze. “I must hear you say it,” he says. “If only once.”

In answer I catch his face between my hands. Firmly, I draw him up. He bends me back over the desk, his fists planted on either side of me, caging me in his arms. But I do not feel trapped. Not now. Not even with the cords of Obligation entwining my very spirit. Here in this space, in this moment, possibly for the first time in my life . . . I feel free.

“I love you, Castien,” I whisper, breathing the words against his open, hungry lips. Then I smile; the relief of finally speaking those words out loud makes me light up inside. I’d not even realized how long I’d been holding them in, tamping them down, forcing that light to dim. Now I feel I could blaze like a star through even the darkest night. “I love you,Lianthorne.”

The kiss he gives me in answer is overwhelming, all-consuming. I wrap my arms around his neck and open my mouth wider, inviting his eager tongue to tangle with mine. A growl rumbles in his throat. All that reverent gentleness gives way to primal need. Demanding and ravenous, he kisses me, touches me, his mouth, his hands everywhere, bringing me to life.

I respond in kind, yanking the belt of his robe until it falls away and the whole garment tumbles to the floor. My greedy hands smooth down his back and then lower still.

He smiles, his mouth against my neck. “I thought I said you could look but no touching.”

A telltale flush somehow manages to roar up my cheeks even now. “Is that really what you want?”

“You know what I want.” With another low growl, he pulls me upright, grips the back laces of my gown, rips them open. I slip from the desk and, with a little shimmy, let the whole garment drop to the floor in a pile of green beside his dressing gown.

Now I am bare before him as he is before me. He looks me up and down. Devouring me with his eyes. When at last his gaze returns to my face, he says only, “Gods, Darling!”

I don’t understand it. I don’t pretend to. I know I am not like the ladies of Eledria, my body sculpted to perfection with glamour and power. I am just myself—lowly and imperfect and so very human. Yet when he looks at me like that, I could believe I am a goddess. His goddess, the worthy recipient of his most ardent worship.

He lays me down upon the desk. Touching me as he touched me once before on the clifftops of Roseward. Only this time is different. This time, the heat generated from his palms isn’t magic. It’s him—him and the fire he calls to life inside me. His touch, his kisses incinerate all thought, all reason, all fear. There’s nothing but him, but us, here in this moment that is entirely ours.

Soon I’m breathless, gasping, clinging to him. The desk beneath me feels as though it’s a tiny craft tossed upon vast and stormy seas. The whole room pitches around me, sending my stomach into delightful tumbles. Oh, how does he do this? Where did he learn the secrets of my body which I myself did not know? I close my eyes, close every outer awareness, concentrating fully on those sensations he calls to life inside me.

“Please,” I whimper. I don’t understand this need, but some instinct tells me he and he alone can fulfill it. “Please, please, please.”

But he shakes his head. “I do not want to hurt you, Darling. No matter how my body craves to take, you must first allow me to give.”

I open my mouth to protest. But then his hand slips between my legs. Deft fingers dance across my center. I catch my breath. My heart throbs to a new rhythm now, one which he creates. Faster and faster and faster until . . . Oh, gods, no! Why does he stop? I let out a wordless cry, ready to scream though I hardly know why. Something has built inside me, something I do not recognize in myself. I want to beg, to plead, to demand. But I cannot form the words.

It doesn’t matter. He takes me by the hands, gently pulls me up to a seated position. The whole room seems to dip and roll, so lightheaded am I under his influence. I try to catch his mouth with mine, but he won’t be caught. He draws me to the edge of the desk, parts my legs. Kneels before me. “This,” he says, kissing the hot skin of my knee, my inner thigh. “I’ve dreamt of this so many a long and lonely night. Yet every time I woke believing myself cursed never to know these delights in truth.” He looks up at me, his whole heart in his eyes. “Will you grant me this indulgence?”

I don’t know what he intends. But in that moment, I would give him anything. Anything.

“You may have me.” I swipe that one errant lock of hair back from his forehead. A simple gesture which thrills me straight to my heart. I shake my head at the pure wonder of it, a laugh bubbling on my lips. “You may have me, Castien. However you want me.”

He smiles that devastating smile of his.

Then he buries his face between my thighs.

I cry out in surprise, grasping the back of his head. A moment later, I throw my own head back, eyes closed. My whole body rocks gently, writhing to the tempo he creates in me. I begin to quiver, to shake. I don’t know what’s happening, don’t understand this mounting force, this power which is so new and strange. A magic entirely of his creation.

“Castien!” I cry half in fear, half in frenzy. “Castien, Castien!”

My voice breaks in a deep, wordless moan as my whole body explodes with delight.

He remains a little longer where he is, teasing my pleasure to the very last. When eventually he rises and stands before me once more, I am too dazed to answer his smile. My vision is unfocused, swimming. He smooths hair back from my brow and kisses me again with his warm, swollen lips. I catch hold of him, pulling him to me. Everything else is forgotten. Our peril, the near certainty of disaster awaiting us in the next few hours. There’s no room for such fears. Not here. Not now.

“I’m ready,” I say, my voice breathless with want.

This time he doesn’t resist. He steps between my legs, takes hold of my thighs, and eases himself into me. I catch my breath, surprised at the sharpness. He pauses, looking down. “Darling?” he asks, all concern and tenderness.

I wait, counting out several slow breaths as my body adjusts to him. When the tension relaxes, I nod.

He begins to pulse. A deep, profound rhythm of connection. I wrap my legs around him once more, press my hands against his shoulders, his back, his buttocks. Draw him in, nearer, closer. It hurts, but I want it. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything, even the gift of ecstasy he just gave me. This is more than mere bodies, mere physical sensation. This is every great and wonderful force of the universe held in this small point of time and space. As though it was always meant just for the two of us.

“You are mine.” He pants the words between thrusts, his breath hot on my skin. He lifts his head, gazes into my eyes. Softly, he cups my cheek in his palm. “Whatever may come. Today, tomorrow, and eternity, you are mine. My own. My wife.”

His wife.

---