Page 32 of Emma & Edmund

In the moon-washed meadow, a huge willow basked in the light, tickling at the wispy wildflower buds that dotted the ground.

The grass wove through her toes as she broke the threshold. Even through the thick fabric of her dress, she felt the breeze tickle her skin, feeling no chill as she crossed the short distance to the tree, her companion hot on her heels.

As the silent pair reached the dripping curtain of the old tree, from the corner of her eye, she watched a massive arm of unusual hue sweep aside the hanging branches. She wanted to reach out, to run her fingers on the pulsing veins just below the surface, to feel the odd mix of familiar and other.

Only the feeling of something from just behind her navel drew her forward, settling deep within the tree's embrace.

When she reached out and felt the trunk's bark dig into her sensitive fingertips, the swoosh of a closing curtain came from behind. Excitement swelled in her, clutching at the wood until it felt her skin would break.

Now, everything within her screamed,herewas where they were meant to be. This darkness and sweat and anticipation were her grand reward.

And finally, so deliciously finally, hands engulfed her hips, hot as fire even through her dress. With one strong jolt, she collided with a solid, unmoving brick of a body, the heat between them growing to a fervent blaze. Her dress felt like it was melting right off her.

Peeking through eyes she didn't realize she had closed, Emma saw a puddle of fabric around her bare feet. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized she should be mortified, embarrassed enough to die, but it hardly mattered when plump lips wrapped around her neck.

Her knees gave out as sharpened, dangerous teeth dragged across her overly sensitive skin.

His powerful hands held her in an iron grip, spinning her effortlessly, chest colliding with chest.

In her haze, there wasn't even a moment to think before her follower brought his lips to hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck without hesitation, molding her body to the one that held it.

The very core of her pulsed, spurred on by the burning heat pouring through her veins.

Here, lost in the forest and hidden in the shadows, there was no reason to hide herself. Noises fell from her that she did not recognize, her hips swaying across the rough fabric that held her.

Two hands cupped the curve of her bottom, hoisting her up the length of him, their lips never parting. Her legs came to wrap tightly around him, holding him close to her as if she would die without his touch.

Instinct told her what the pressure against her thigh was, a heavy pulsing rod of need. And she desperately yearned to satisfy that need, to release his the same way she knew he would release hers.

As his lips left hers, leading a delirious trail of kisses in his path to her neck, she slipped the ribbon that held the last of her modesty apart, allowing her underskirt to slip away.

Finally, skin met hot skin.

An unfiltered moan was pulled out of her as he used only one hand to support the weight of her, the other coming to tangle in her loose hair, pushing their faces together even that much tighter. The heightened throbbing of his sex on her bare thigh begged for more. Begged for her.

Reaching between her spread legs, fingertips brushing the hot, hard, and silky skin, no part of her wanted to deny him.

Emma was already scowling when her eyes shot open. She didn't bolt up as she had before, didn't hold back a scream, but her blazing eyes could have bored holes into the wall she stared at.

How dare her treacherous dreams do such a thing? A blush raged across her face, almost burning off the duvet she shared with a still-sleeping Margaret. Oh, how much her friend would be disgusted if she knew who she slept beside.

Just like the last, it all felt so real. It was clear as day it never happened outside of fantasy, but her hips burned from where huge hands grasped her. Her lips pulsed, but not nearly as desperately as the core of her did. The same core that begged for further touch, for a release she couldn't name.

Perhaps one day, when she was finally far away from Belmont, she would wonder where her mind even conjured such a thought. However, she knew deep in her heart that it wasn't the lies that she had been told her whole life.

Men and women did not have simply lay in a bed together, demurely separated as she and her friends innocently thought. Deliberately taught, even. That there was so much more promise than that, and for some horrible reason, her subconscious had teased her with the knowledge.

She would bite her tongue right out of her mouth if she were ever forced to admit it, but a dark part of her yearned to learn what was denied upon her rousing.

Even more troubling, she had promised the very subject of her dream to assist him, to spend time with him one last time. It had to be the last, lest the troubling dreams continue.

The fact that it washimweighed heavily on her mind. Why not one of the many handsome, accomplished, worldly men she had known throughout her life? Why did it have to take something so otherworldly that her intuition finally told her the truth of coupling?

And why did she want to see it through to its completion? Why did her body sing for it, beg for her to fall back to sleep and fall back into the world, to fall back into his strong arms that held her so well?

Instead, through sheer will alone, her eyes remained open, trained on the singular window, watching through the gap in the curtain as the sky changed from black, to gray, to pink. A new day had dawned but brought her no peace.

"Morning, love," Margaret said with a yawn, slipping out from their shared covers when their maids came to rouse them. "Did you sleep well?"

---