Page 54 of Artemysia
Perhaps I do it because he took care of me. He sewed me up, then stayed with me until I awoke. But no—Throg’s done that for me, and I didn’t feel this way.
Maybe it’s for his honesty.
Or it’s the fact that one of us could have died today, and we haven’t even made it into Artemysia to begin our impossible task.
In the end, I just wanted to kiss his shoulder.
His chest heaves with a controlled breath, and his nose nuzzles into my neck. He lingers as if savoring my scent. At the same time, he releases my hand, and his palm splays across my belly, pulling me in closer. I’m hardly breathing. My entire focus is on the hot rush of blood where he touches me on my stomach, my throat, my legs. His fingers slide up my ribs, stroking and meandering excruciatingly slow, as if giving me time to stop him.
When I let out a breathy “Mhmm,” he grazes kisses on the nape of my neck, his stubbly chin scraping in the most spine-tingling way. His hand reaches under the hem of my flannel and slips back upward. Since he cut off my bra earlier to attend to my stab wound, there’s nothing between his hand and my breast. As he strokes and cups the underside of my breast, the lancing heat of his palm radiates from my chest right down between my legs. He props himself up on one forearm and curves around me to kiss me.
When he kissed me in the clock tower, his lips were hesitant. Yielding. This time, he’s rougher and hungrier, like he’s seizing what he wants without a second thought.
I like it. I like it so much, I lose restraint despite my anxious thoughts.
I bite his bottom lip, and in response his thumb flicks across my nipple, drawn taut with the exposure to cold air. I groan into his mouth, a desirous haze washing over me.
I need more of him—
His body, hard as iron.
His hum when I shiver at his touch.
His tantalizing juniper scent that reminds me of the southernmountains.
He shifts to sit upright in bed and drags me up with him by wrapping his forearm around my waist, until he’s seated behind me.
“Do your stitches hurt?” He eases us back against the headboard. I shake my head.
I’m certain he’s considering that I can’t lie on my back and doesn’t want to risk pulling out my stitches. Reclining against his muscular torso, I undo the buttons of my shirt to give him access. I like what he’s doing, pinching my nipples with enough pressure that the sting leaves me wanting more. He rolls one softly between his thumb and finger, then gives a firm tweak until I bite my lip to muffle a squeal.
A low grunt of approval rumbles deep in his throat. I’m soaked.
He adjusts his touch to my noises and breaths, rather than the over-excited grabbing and pawing of my breasts as other men have done in the past. I can’t see him behind me, but his legs straddle mine. His hand slips to my lower belly, trailing along the waistband of my underwear, and he hooks his heels around my calves to splay my legs across the bed.
It’s sexy as hell, how he holds me open.
Good gods. I’m pulsing with a desire I haven’t allowed myself to feel in a long time. I pull off the blanket, wanting to watch what he’s doing. The cool air rushing against the heat and dampness between my thighs has my entire body thrumming. He makes me forget where I am, near the forest of death. He lets me pretend I am someone else, someone who can have this kind of indulgence. His palm still works my breast, and his fingers dive down into my underwear.
A long, soft hiss escapes his lips when he feels how slick I am. For him.
There’s an unbearable throb and a need to be filled. My breath is held as he parts my flesh to find my clit, circling around it. He coasts a fingerpad along the wet slit, drawing a shaky, breathless groan from me.
“Bend your knees more,” he orders.
I part my thighs wider for him, rutting into his hand. He curses softly.
And suddenly there are no more anxious thoughts running around in my head, and my entire focus is on his two fingers pressing into me, deep and slow.
“Our shadows crossed paths in a strange twist of fate, and she’s brought me into her light.” -Riev
“Is this what you want? Say it to me, Delphine.” The words drag out of me coarsely, demanding, but I wait, hoping Delphine doesn’t let her practicality get the best of her.Please don’t change your mind.
Maybe she should, though, for her own sake.
She takes a shuddering inhale. The sound goes straight to my engorged cock. Her warm, heavy breast perfectly fills my palm, and I don’t want to stop. She’s sitting in my lap, legs sprawled wide with my hand stroking where her thighs meet, and I am going out of my mind imagining pulling her up and sitting her down on my throbbing cock.
She tosses her head back onto my shoulder, her soft hair tickling my nose.
