With another moan, she rested the back of her head against his shoulder. The urge to slam inside her and come now, now, now made his testicles heavier, but he resisted. He would last, and he would make this good for her. Better than ever before. He would brand his essence inside her.
Puck walked forward and lifted her onto a rock. "Hands and knees," he said, and she eagerly obeyed, placing her core at eye level.
"Let me see my beautiful wife." He pushed her knees farther apart, revealing the most mouthwatering sight in all the realms.
She was wet, swollen with need and the prettiest pink.
"Going to feast on you." He traced a finger along her silken heat, dragging a groan from them both.
"Like this?" she asked, clearly scandalized--and intrigued. "At this angle?"
"This angle," he agreed. Liiick. The taste of this woman!
She cried out, and undulated her hips. High on her essence, he reached out to knead her breasts, pluck and play with her nipples. Only when she begged did he thrust two fingers inside her, offering a modicum of relief.
His wife, always a powder keg ready to blow, came on those fingers, her screams of bliss an erotic song.
He was a powder keg ready to blow. The climax made her even sweeter.
More... To wring a second from her, he used his tongue as he used his shaft, thrusting into her. He massaged his thumb over her clitoris again and again, increasing pressure. Little whimpers filled the air.
More! He crawled up the rock and loomed behind her, on his knees. Though every fiber of his being demanded he sink inside her, he merely teased her wetness with the tip of his erection.
"How badly do you want me?" he said between kisses he placed along her spine.
She met his gaze over her shoulder, her red, red lips swollen from his kisses. A slow grin bloomed, sending his heart into a wild gallop.
Was any woman more perfect than this one?
"I want you--" she stretched her arm between her legs to stroke his length from base to tip "--this bad."
Too good! Careful, careful. Must not blow.
"Then you've never wanted anything more," he said, and drove his shaft all the way home.
41
Sublime pleasure rippled through Gillian. Puck filled her up, stretched and consumed her. She'd already come twice, but like the addict she was--the addict this amazing man had made her--she only wanted more.
He was as hot as fire, as hard as stone, and he branded her inside and out. Male and female. Husband and wife.
As he thrust and thrust, harder and faster, his motions became rougher. She could feel his desperation and hunger.
"Kiss," she said.
"My wife wants to be kissed?" He pulled out long enough to flip her to her back. But he didn't kiss her. He thrust back inside her, twined his fingers with hers and raised her arms over her head. The new position forced her back to arch, lifting her breasts for his attention.
He stared down at her, and she stared up at him, watching as the pinpricks of light in his irises moved, like falling stars streaking across a midnight sky. Beautiful man. Brilliant man.
"There are different kinds of kisses," he said, and began to move again. The tempo of their mating changed. "Is this the kind you want?" Moving in and out of her so slowly, torturously, deliciously, he leaned down to flick his tongue over one of her nipples.
"Yes, yes, that kind. All kinds." Electric currents rushed straight to her core, and she rocked her hips, taking him deeper, harder. This was what sex was meant to be, a communion between two consenting adults. A perfect give and take. Balm for a wounded heart. Pleasure without guilt or disgust. Even...fun.
The bond alone couldn't be responsible for this...this...miracle.
"You've possessed me," she rasped.
"A chuisle, I am the one possessed...by you." With his next plunge, he rocked her entire body.
Pulse again. He might as well have cast a spell over her.
"Kiss. This kind now," she said, clasping the sides of his face to bring his lips to her mouth.
His tongue dominated hers as he fed her a passion as wild as the beat of her heart. Still plunging. Harder. Again. And again. Harder and harder. Faster. Her sensitized nipples created irresistible friction with Puck's chest, desire spearing her anew.
More pleasure. A bomb set to detonate. She tangled her fingers in his hair, dug her nails into his scalp. Her nerve endings hummed and vibrated, fire blazing inside her bones. The flames grew and flickered over every inch of her.
The rest of the world had long since vanished from her awareness.
She arched her hips to meet his next thrust, sending him even deeper. Yes, yes, yes. A breathless cry, needy and plaintive--had the sound really left her? "Puck!" She arched her hips again, gasped. Yes, yes! "More of that."
"You feel so good, wife. Nothing better." Slam, slam. Slam.
Three...two...one. Detonation!
Her mind shut down, bliss ripping through her, another plaintive cry leaving her. This was more powerful than any other climax, strong enough to shatter her piece by piece, but sweet enough to put her back together again.
"Can't last...going to... Lass!" Puck shouted. He thrust once more, deep, so wonderfully deep, his entire body shuddering against hers as his orgasm overtook him.
As soon as he collapsed on top of her, he shifted his weight. His arms remained wrapped around her in a hold that said my wife goes nowhere without me.
Content but still breathless, Gillian cuddled against him. When her thoughts cleared, she said, "Have you ever been in love? Romantic love, I mean. With a woman besides me."
"No. I never allowed myself to get to know one."
Besides William, and then Puck, she'd never taken the time to get to know a guy, either. Puck wasn't perfect, but he was perfect for her. And he would make an amazing king. In the maze, she'd gotten a front row seat to his strength, ingenuity, determination, honor and resilience. Amaranthia needed him. The clans needed him.
I need him.
"You said the Oracles have never been wrong," she said.
Rubbing the bird tattooed on his chest, he said, "That is correct."
"What if we can do the impossible and prove them wrong--about everything? What if I can help you achieve your dream, without killing it? What if I can have a happy ending with you?"
"I want this," he said, his tone fierce. "I will have this."
On the other end of the spectrum... "What if I can't prove the Oracles wrong?" Fears deluged her, a scourge she couldn't beat back. "What if I destroy your dream? What if I can't have a happy ending with you?"
Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.
"In this, we cannot live by 'what if.' And I did warn you. I won't let you go unless I must do so to save your life. Haven't changed my mind. Won't. Know that I will do everything in my power to ensure you remain mine. I will kill my brother, and I will fight for your happy ending."
Such ferocity...she shivered. "Do you want children? One day, I mean."
His pupils flared over his irises. "I do. And you?"
"Yes." Little boys with midnight-sky eyes. Little girls with long black lashes.
Silent, thoughtful, Puck peered up at the sky for a moment. "Come," he said, and swooped her up against his chest before standing. As he waded across the river, cool water caressed her overheated skin.
Once they reached the other side, he continued holding her, and carried her to the camp.
"Time for our rest," he said.
"We should find clean clothes and weapons first," she said, and yawned.
He shouldered his way into the biggest tent and gently placed her on her feet. With a grin, he gave her butt another playful smack. "You're part of my stable now, woman. You'll do what you're told if you expect mercy from your master."
That grin...he looked so young and boyish, so silly, beautiful beyond imagining. His eyes glowed like runes; the stars had completely taken over.
This was the man he was born
to be. The sweetheart his father had tried to beat out of him. The party-on-legs his brother had nearly destroyed.
This was Puck Connacht, Gillian's husband.
Then his words computed, and she sputtered. Part of his stable? "Ha! In this relationship, I'm the master, and you are a stallion in my stable. You've already got the legs for it, big boy."
He gave a mock growl. "You like my legs."
"Do I?" She studied her cuticles.
"The day I returned to Amaranthia, you Hulked-out. I carried you to bed, and for the longest time, you refused to let me leave it. You clung to me, rubbing against my legs at every opportunity."
Had she? Well, why not? She was a smart girl. "FYI, if you try to form a stable, I'll cut off your precious and make you eat it. Mean that from the bottom of my heart, baby."
Her words must have pleased him. His shoulders squared, and his spine went ramrod straight with pride. "You can't get enough of my precious. Perhaps I should take my desires elsewhere, however. I remember a time when you told me I had permission to--"