My cheek found his chest and I pressed against him, closing my eyes. He was very still for a moment, as if surprised, and then his arms went around me. I felt his lips on top of my head.
“Has something happened?”
“No,” I said. “I just missed you.”
“Psyche.” He sounded sad, and he kissed my head again.
“Make it dark,” I begged.
He did it without question. I went up on my toes, tipping my face to his, and he took my lead, kissing me deeply. His hands held my upper arms, pulling me closer while helping to keep my hands down. It was torture not to touch him.
“Take me to the bed,” I whispered against his mouth.
One of his hands lifted to cup my face. “Are you certain nothing happened?”
“I am certain, Husband. I just need you.”
He questioned me no more, unclasping the pin at my shoulder and tugging down my soft stola until it fell to the floor. My gloves appeared at my fingertips and I quickly pulled them on. We kissed fervently as he backed me up to the bed, then lifted me so that I was sitting on the edge as he leaned against me, still clothed, his fine fabric nuzzling my nakedness.
“I have been worthless today,” my husband said, sliding lower to cup my breasts and take one into his mouth. My head fell back, and I grabbed the edge of the bed. “I have done nothing but think of you.”
“Now you are here,” I said. “And you can do more than think.”
He grabbed my waist and threw me onto the bed with inhuman strength. I bounced and smiled, so damned happy to have him there with me. So happy to be feeling something good, something that wiped out all other thoughts. So happy he was more than willing to comply.
“I want you in control this time,” I told him as I fisted the bedding at my sides, arching my back as he kissed my belly button. “I trust you.”
Those words made him growl and hold me tighter, nipping my skin with his teeth before coming up to kiss me again. I moaned when I realized he was naked above me. My legs opened, wrapping around his strong hips, feeling his thighs and manhood against me.
“Please,” I begged, trying to move my hips.
He chuckled. “I need to ready you.”
“I am ready.”
His hand dipped down between us and he made a deeply masculine sound in the back of his throat when he felt how wet I was. I blushed, wondering if he thought me too wanton.
“Is that…shameful?”
“Never.”
He grasped my wrists and yanked them over my head as he pushed into me, my whole body contracting, overcome. My feet wrapped around him to hold myself steady as he rocked above me, pulling nearly all the way out, then pushing back into me with forceful thrusts. The friction, and the way he dominated me made me breathe loudly, whimpering affirmative sounds as I was caught between mild pain and the promise of wild bliss.
“I want to touch you,” I begged.
“No.” His teeth clamped on my neck, his tongue hot as he pulled his mouth away.
“Please…oh, gods, let me touch you.”
But he only held my wrists tighter, tugging my arms up, pounding harder into me, faster, rocking us. All at once my core ignited, sending sparks through my limbs, causing my body to jerk beneath him, and my throat to release every blissful, animalistic sound inside me. But this time, he was right there with me, his pleasure spilling into me, our bodies reaching and grabbing and holding tight to every sensation. And nothing in the world was more sensual than the sounds he made against my ear, his heated honey scent sliding over me. It took a long while for us to both settle down.
“I was not very gentle,” he said in a low rumble of remorse.
“It was just as I wanted,” I assured him.
Tears slid from the corners of my eyes as I tried to catch my breath. He kissed one side of my face, brushing away the tears with his lips, and then the other.
“Your feelings, Psyche,” he breathed.
“Happy,” I whispered. “So happy.”
He sighed, his head sinking into the bedding beside my head, his body heavy above me. And once again, I had a feeling my response was not what he wanted to hear. A moment of panicked hopelessness seized me. I had given him my body. I had given him my trust. I had come to rely on him and to feel happiness with him, but it was not enough.
“Are we going to lose?” Another tear slid down each cheek.
“No.” He released my wrists, but I kept them above my head as he took my face, wiping away my tears. “We are going to win, Psyche.” He kissed my lips. “We must.”
PROMISE
Happiness was, of course, fleeting. It fled from me each morning as my husband left my side. Each day I became more and more desperate for his companionship. I wanted our bodies touching every moment we were together. I yearned all day for him to be inside of me, for our breaths to intertwine, for his hands to caress me, his lips to kiss mine. I felt as if his attention in the darkness of night could chase away all the despair I felt during the day.
And each night after we made fervent love, he would ask for my feelings. I answered truthfully, always: joy, bliss, satisfaction, even ecstasy. No amount of positive affirmation seemed to appease him. I felt him growing more and more frustrated.
“What is it you want from me?” I had shouted last night.
“You know I cannot say!” he had yelled in return. And then he held me, rocking me, kissing silent apologies across my face until the frustrated tension eased from my being.
This morning I was awoken to his thumb rubbing gently back and forth over my hip. I felt fully rested, but it was still pitch black. He did not want to turn on the sun yet—he was not ready to leave me.
“What are you thinking, Husband?” I whispered into the darkness.
“If only I could say,” he whispered back. His solemnness hit me in the chest. “You tell me you are happy, but you are not.”
Guilt tugged at my gut. “I am happy when we are together.”
“And when you are not with me?”
I pressed my lips together. “I attempt to keep busy, and I am grateful for the love of Mino and Sphinx, even Renae, but…”
“But?”
I swallowed the burn of moisture. “The loneliness is overwhelming.”
I heard him rub his face, sighing deeply. “You miss your home.”
“My family.” I choked up. “My sisters. What I wouldn’t give to see them once more.” Saying the words out loud, picturing their faces, brought the emotion to the surface and I inhaled, exhaling the emotion away.
He pulled me close, my back against his chest, and held me.
“What if I promised to bring your sisters here for one hour? Would that suffice?”
Hope reared up, causing me to drag in a breath of shock.
“You can do that?”
He paused. “Yes.”
I sat up, facing him, though I couldn’t see a thing. “All this time I could have seen my sisters?” The truth of it hit me with a painful smack.
He cleared his throat. “There is no rule against it, but it is not best for our situation.”
My forehead furrowed. “This is like you keeping Renae from playing games with me. You want me only to yourself!”
“Of course, I do,” he growled. “You forget what is going on here!”
A chill ratcheted up my spine. The game.
“I have been forced to make decisions that I believed would help,” he said stiffly. “In retrospect, not all of those decisions have worked.”
I couldn’t help the small grin that graced my lips. He was apologizing, and he clearly was not accustomed to admitting when he’d been mistaken.
I bounced a little. “So, they can come? Truly?”
“Yes, Psyche,” he said on an exhale. “Just this once. I beg you to make the most of it.”
I let out a small, excited screech. “I want to hug you!”
“Do not dare.” He chuckled, and I clapped my hands.
My sisters! Oh, glory!
Vibrant excitement filled me. I grabbed the covers and leaned forward, searching for him with my face. He helped me out, landing his lips on mine with a laugh.
“You had better dress.”
“Not yet,” I said, leaning forward to touch my tongue to his.
He made that satisfying sound in the back of his throat and my body warmed, tensing and preparing.
“Psyche…I must go very soon.”
“Husband…” There was one position we hadn’t done yet. I turned on my hands and knees and peered back over my shoulder in the darkness. “Not yet.” My heart gave a pound of nervousness followed by flutters that made me short of breath.
I heard his wings flap as he came up on his knees behind me, running a firm hand from the back of my neck, down my spine to my bottom.
“Are you being a bad little Princess?” He grasped my hips and yanked me to him, pressing himself flush against the line of my core. He was hard and ready.
“Only for you,” I said, brazenly rubbing up and down his length.
He entered me from behind and I gasped at the new sensation, feeling fuller than I ever had in our time together. At first his strokes were unhurried, pulling all the way out and sliding back in with agonizing slowness, as if both savoring and preparing. But then his baser instincts seemed to take over, and I had to hold tight to the blankets as he thrust into me, smacking his hips to my bottom, rocking the whole bed.