Page 19 of A Dark and Stormy Knight
She suddenly wished for daylight. For a filter of illumination through which she could appreciate his nude form. She wished she’d seen exactly what it was he’d pressed inside of her. But for now, all she had was this. Darkness and experience.
And what an experience it was.
With a dark growl, he withdrew slow and deliberate. He held her to him like a coveted treasure as he curled his back to sting into her again. And then again.
Each gliding, slick thrust was easier to bear than the last, easing the way for the pleasure he began to pump from his body into hers, chasing away the lingering shadows of pain.
He made dark, needful, animal sounds. She reveled in the catches of his breath and the sheer wonder in the wordless questions he kissed into her mouth.
He took pleasure as he gave it, and she thought, that was what lovers ought to do.
For he felt like a lover, even though love had nothing to do with what they did here in the dark on the earth.
It was more like a rite. A swiftly intensifying, carnal ritual. One blessed by witches who would have burned once upon a time. As she was burning now, immolating as he thrust pure liquid heat into her with increasing brutality.
She pulled away from his arms, not because she wanted space but because she wanted to see what gathered between them. Because that celestial tide of pleasure was threatening to separate her from herself once again, and she had to make sure this time she was not alone.
That he came with her.
Come. This is why it was referred to as coming. Because no one quite stayed where they were, inside of themselves, inside of each other.
They came, and went, somewhere else entirely.
She looked up at him and instantly noticed that he was closer to that place, that he was afraid he’d leave without her.
His features were a mask of exquisite torment, more beautiful than any piece of art she’d ever seen. She gasped up at him with every motion, as he thrust her into the ground. Her legs widened, strained. Her body seized, and he barked out a harsh sound.
He reached between them and with three magical strokes of his finger, he brought the pleasure crashing into her and sent them both careening into the night.
They came together.
Locked in some paroxysm of bliss that might have looked like a contortion of pain. Neither of them seemed capable of sound, only straining, taut and impossible motion.
Her entire body pulsed around long, liquid warmth he buried deep into her womb, andGodif that didn’t heighten the entire experience.
She returned to herself before he did, it seemed, her body slackening to the earth as his still thrummed with spasms of pleasure. It seemed to drop him suddenly, and he collapsed over her. Not with his full weight, but with a delicious heaviness that compressed her into a puddle of pleasant affection.
He rooted around in the pool of ruined ringlets at the nape of her neck, breathing deeply, pressing reverent kisses to the sensitive skin. She fought the shrugging giggle as long as she could, but alas her ticklish neck broke the moment.
He rolled to the side, sliding away and arranging himself back into his trousers before she had the presence of mind to peek.
A consummate professional, he was.
They lay next to each other beneath the stars for an eternity, or maybe only a moment. Their breaths synchronized as they deepened and slowed.
A drowsy sense of satisfaction stole over her limbs, and Prudence was the first to roll to her side, acutely aware of the slick aftermath left against her thighs.
He was still far away, she realized. Somewhere in the night above them, unable to return back to the troubles of life below.
She understood a little, she thought. Morning would bring no pleasure to her, especially not after trust had been broken by those she’d once considered closest to her. But her sadness felt like a phantom next to what sort of bleak emotion settled on his features, and she thought to dispel it with a compliment.
“Whatever you charge, sir, it’s not enough.” She sighed contentedly. “You are a master of your craft.”
“Never enough…” he murmured, his eyes still somewhat unfocused, his chest still struggling a bit for breath.
It made sense, she thought, he’d done all the work. She’d just lain there and enjoyed herself.
Feeling at a loss herself, she pushed herself up on her hip like a depiction of a mermaid, legs stretched out to the side. How did one conclude such an interaction? And why didn’t she want to?
