The clothes come off one at a time, and he trails kisses over every bare surface of my skin, finding spots of pleasure I never knew existed. There's one in the crook of my elbow that makes me gasp, and another just on the side of my breast when his hand snakes under my top to fumble along my bra.
Oh, this is maddening. But we're finally together, and making good on our wedding vows. That knowledge brings a sense of calm to his actions, when I wish he'd speed up, because he wants to savor every second. He wants to tease me until I'm whimpering for more, because when the tension becomes too much, and I reach down to start stroking myself, he tuts and pulls my hand away.
“Not yet,” he says. “No getting ahead of yourself.”
I whine in frustration at him. “I need – it's so tense –”
“I know,” he says, and something like mischief twinkles in his dark eyes. I bet he knows. This devil will be the death of me at this rate. I groan as he continues to tease me, divesting me of all my clothes, and touching every spot except the most obvious ones – breasts and between my legs. Whenever his hand circles near my breasts, I hold my breath, hoping this time, this is it – only to be thwarted once again, as he smoothly glides away. To be so keenly aware of what he's avoiding only serves to ignite me further, to long for the moment when he stops his torment, and floods me with bliss.
Another circle. I buck up into him, managing to get his pants tugged off, witnessing his erection once more. Again, he stops me from touching myself, or touching him, tapping me lightly on the cheek. “Do as I say and resist, and I promise you, you won't regret this.”
I whine once more, and surrender to his teasing. It's almost painful, the way he works me up, all without touching me where I need it most. My anticipation rises to fever pitch as his hands circle nearer and nearer, and when he suddenly latches his lips to my nipple, I cry out in relief. At last!
The pace changes from slow to fast, as he pushes against me, his lips working, and his tongue flicking against the sensitive buds. I arch up into him, my body shaking, and feel his dick brushing against my stomach, and burn from the idea that will soon be in me, driving me wild, taking me away from everything else so that only he matters. When his fingers dance along my clit, sliding along the wetness down there, I cry out, even as he whispers, “Look how ready you are for me. Look how much you want this.”
“Please,” I choke. “Please fuck me. Please.”
I beg some more, as well, but he swirls his fingers down there, invoking such a sense of extreme tingling down there that I attempt to squirm away from his touch, only to be held in place. I ride out this torment as well, until all my muscles are tense and shaking, and my body vibrates hard from his ministrations. I inhale the scent of him, heavy with sweat and desire, and a lingering essence of mint. His breaths galvanize me, because I realize that I'm turning him on just as much as he's turning me on. Even though I'm not touching him, he's shaking with excitement.
He speeds up his fingering until I break apart with a breathless cry, bliss assaulting my body. But he's not done. He positions and works his way inside me, and just when I thought I couldn't possibly experience more pleasure, he's there and he's moving and it's all building up again and it's so much, too much, and I'm being swept away, drowning and drowning until his motions stop.
The motions inside me don't stop, though, as a second orgasm joins the first. My head hits the pillow, heavy with bliss. My bones are stuck to the sheets, unwilling to move, and he rests against me as well, feeling like lead.
I feel vaguely sorry for whoever might have been close enough to hear our activities, but not sorry enough to decide to keep my voice down in the near future.
“Why did we have to wait so long for this,” I manage, after what feels like an eternity of lying there, floating in bliss.
“My thoughts exactly,” Desmond gasps, rolling off me, arranging himself with some difficulty around me as I flop bonelessly from his touch. “Wow, I hit you real hard, didn't I?”
“Can't. Move.” I close my eyes. “I've lost all control of my limbs. Maybe I've lost my muscles, because I can't feel them.”
He lifts up one of my arms dubiously. “Nope. Still there.”
“Ha, ha.” I accept him moving me until my head's resting on his shoulder and chest, instead. After a short pause, I say, “I think I did forget my own name there for a while.”
He chuckles, and the vibration goes through my cheek and into my chest. “Told you so. And I plan to give you many more moments like this, my love.”
My love. Somehow, those words thrill me even more than the thought of more mind-breaking sex. “Say that again,” I ask, and he nuzzles against my head.
“My love.”
“I love you, too,” I say. And they're the scariest words I've ever managed.
13
Desmond
I sit up with Pearl, doing little else but lazy motions with our arms, still trying to work through the high. The fourth high within whatever timeframe we'd managed all that in. As much as I wanted to keep pleasuring her, we did have people to sort out, and it might not look great if we both turned up to the banquet completely exhausted and babbling nonsense.
My wife. I stare at the absolute vision that is Pearl with deep pride. A lot of men would be ecstatic to have someone like her by their side. I'm included in that group. Her being a Hartson really doesn't matter anymore. She shouldn't be punished for the sins of her ancestors, or for what others have done. She shouldn't be punished for truly believing that we were monsters. But it does mean we have a lot to work through, because although we're getting on just great now, I know there will be more trials in the future. More challenges for us to deal with.
Rayse will be a threat, too. Though he claims to be following our father's line, he's not happy. He'd rather there be a war between our clans, because he's mostly convinced we can win it. Especially if he was leading, of course. I do think he cares enough about his own family not to murder us in the process of doing so, but it's always going to be a somewhat tricky subject to breach.
“I'm glad I met you,” Pearl whispers in my ear, and that's enough to send a tidal wave of desire though my system. I should really, really be getting away from her about now, but I can't resist sliding my hands along her perfect alabaster skin, finding all sorts of things to latch onto. My fingers must be so rough in comparison for her, raised with callouses, but she seems to like the tactile contact, as her body arches, and she exposes her throat in a gesture that very much encourages me to keep going.
I'm glad to be able to savor all of this. Glad to remember every second as we bring each other to bliss, because we're going to have many of those moments together. Whole days, I'm sure, where we won't want to get up from bed and spend it instead with one another, learning and relearning our bodies. Once Jensen told me he thought women didn't care so much for sex, that they went into it with a sense of obligation, but could never enjoy it as much as a man did.
That's not true at all. Which tells me maybe Jensen doesn't know how to handle his own wife at all, or maybe she's just interested in someone else. Pearl gasps, her breathing turning louder and faster, and that triggers a fresh spike of desire. How much faster can I get those breaths, how long before they mix with strangled cries and squeaks of pleasure, until all tension in her body collapses, and she dissolves into her orgasm.