This was everything she had ever desired and yet nothing she had ever anticipated. Even as he suckled, Rhiannon felt a delicious tug at her womb, and a dampness creep between her thighs.
And then… sweet Goddess… he lowered himself again, kneeling at her feet, and lifted his face to her mons.
His tongue struck out, boldly sweeping between her woman’s flower, pressing high against her bud, the sensation warm and delicious in contrast with the cool water cascading over their bodies. And suddenly, she lost the thread of her magik completely, leaving the water to trickle over them in spurts that mirrored each foray of his tongue.
“Cael,” she cried out, her fingers weaving themselves into his thick, black hair, groping desperately as he drank from her, rewarding her with a first taste of animal pleasure; it washed over her in waves, wracking her body with shivers. And then he rose again to offer her his tongue and Rhiannon was shocked to find the taste of her body lingered.
Bold. Shocking. Delicious.
If she’d thought herself intrepid, this only inspired her sense of daring. She accepted the gift, a pleasant tang that she would never have been audacious enough to explore on her own. Her body began to convulse in the most private of places, and she longed desperately to be filled—intuitively, knowing it could only be Cael.
“I’d lay beneath you,” she said, shivering in his arms.
He smiled gently. “I’d have you lay beside me instead.”
She nodded, understanding, and lowered a hand to his manhood, touching it tentatively.
“Art certain?” he asked.
“I’m your wife,” she said.
That was all Cael needed to hear.
Merely hearing those heartfelt words nearly unmanned him where he stood.
He could barely restrain himself. She was perfect, a blend of innocence and daring that fueled his jaded imagination. He could think of a million ways he longed to have her, but realizing this would be her first coupling, he intended to prepare her as best as he could. If, indeed, his time in this realm was nearing an end, he would die contentedly, knowing he had, at long last, found the light of his heart. As it so happened she was Uther’s heir.
Morwen’s daughter.
Yet none of that mattered.
Not right now.
Burying the tips of his fingers into her silky mons, he continued to kiss her mouth, mimicking with his tongue the rhythm he longed to follow with his hips.
She tasted sweet, like honeysuckles, sex and rain—the odd combination like manna from Heaven. This night would be theirs, he vowed—even if on the morrow the fires of hell rose to destroy him. Nothing, no one, could keep him from claiming his wife…
Bound by destiny, to destiny bound,
Another to one, one to another.
Strange whispers in his ears, from a voice he didn’t know. And nevertheless, he needn’t a word of encouragement.
He bent to sweep Rhiannon into his arms, and carried her to the bed, laying her down very gently, unconcerned that they would dampen the bedding. At the moment, he longed to drown in the love she so willingly gave, and not even the fact that he was parted from his reliquaries occurred to him.
“Rhiannon,” he said, as he caressed her face, and then he covered her body with his own, pressing her down into the bedding, giving her only half his weight, his hips already moving of their own accord, seeking and begging entrance to the temple of her body.
“I love you,” she said, startling him with the declaration, and his heart sang with a chorus of joy. Still, he was determined to afford Rhiannon the same pleasure she gave him.
“Spread your thighs,” he demanded. And then, once again, he shimmied down her body, kissing and lapping at the valley between her breasts, suckling each nipple in turn, before moving down to kiss her belly and mons. And there, again, he sent his tongue to coax the wetness from the font of her womanhood, knowing intuitively that this would make her first time easier to bear. Rhiannon moaned and he reveled in the sound, lapping hungrily and suckling her silken petals. When he was certain she was ready for him, he lifted himself to look into her eyes and said slowly, clearly, lest a word be mistaken. “Live or die, I will do so for you, my love. I love you, and only you, Rhiannon Pendragon.”
And then, he positioned himself between her thighs, nesting himself there, as he pushed himself inside her. He entered slowly, then paused for an instant to savor the silky heat of her body. But her eagerness was, again, his undoing. Undulating beneath him, she lifted her hips to welcome him, and he gave her what she sought. Feeling her maidenhead rupture, he bent to swallow her soft cries with his hungry mouth, offering his heart, his body, and soul, and finally, his seed—though not until she cried out one last time, so intensely that he momentarily feared he had harmed her. And nevertheless, he felt her body stiffen, and knew instinctively she’d found release. That carnal knowledge set free the beast within, and he filled her desperately, sweat dripping from his temples as he worked for his pleasure, until he cried out with sweet release, then collapsed atop her with a heart filled with joy, and his cock still throbbing violently.
Unwilling to withdraw even then, he grasped her by the arse and turned them both so she held his cock inside her, both their bodies pulsing with pleasure.
“Christ have mercy,” he said.
And this was, perhaps, the wrong thing to say, because his impish wife grinned sportingly, and said, “Oh, my dear husband… God may, indeed, provide you mercy, but I will not.”
And then she smiled a secret smile, and again began to undulate atop him, her hips rocking him ever so maddeningly, slowly, slowly, coaxing, coaxing… coaxing.
Inconceivably, he found himself hard as stone once more, and ready to be ridden. Of their own accord, his hands found her hips, prepared to guide her, but then he felt her tighten about him, and he nearly died with pleasure. Submitting entirely to her will, he let his hands ride the silken curve of her hips, giving Rhiannon complete control over their loving.
Five.
These were the number of years Rhiannon had dreamt of this moment—ever since she’d spied this glorious man in her vision. Goddess ordained, he was her husband, and all the Sylphs in Heaven and all the dragons on deep couldn’t keep her from taking her fill of him.
Here and now, this very instant, she confessed, if only to herself, she would have moved Heaven and earth on that day she’d helped Elspeth escape, to keep her sister from this glorious man who was destined to be hers. It was in some ways the most selfish act of her life, and would she have coveted him if he were not Goddess sent?
Yes, she thought. Yessss…
With the greatest satisfaction, she rode him fiercely, like a primal queen atop her cherished steed, eternally grateful for Marcella’s advice, because even as she watched, his eyes rolled back into his head and she knew the instant he submitted to her pleasure.
Bound by destiny, to destiny bound,
Another to one, one to another.
Here now and forever.
The sky outside her window was a cloudless blue.
Rhiannon laid her head atop her husband’s arm. His free hand cupped her bottom, and when she stirred, he sleepily drew her close.
“Good morning,” she said, when he opened his eyes. This near, they were so deep and dark they appeared fathomless, and she could peer into them evermore.