I never want this moment to end. I want to stay like this forever, skin-to-skin with the man I’ve fallen in love with. Magnus thrust his hips like he can hear what I’m thinking, that I ache to keep him inside of me.
Slowly he pulls out of me and I grunt in protest. My grunt is followed by the rustle of clothes.
Magnus turns me around, only to find him completely naked, and my already shaking legs turn to noodles.
He scoops me into his arms and soon I’m back on the bed with the last of my clothing gone. I wonder which sensation I like better, Magnus behind me, warm at my back, or him hovering above me like the most beautiful dream of something I never thought I could have.
He’s golden above me with the low light of the fire and for a moment, I run my fingers over the olive-brown planes of his wide shoulders. There are scars there, wounds that have long since healed on his body, and I want to know every one of them.
They say that when you’re born in a burning house, into a burning life, you think the whole world is on fire. In his arms, held in his embrace, I know that it’s not true. I’ve only ever seen the world through the eyes of my mother, and now I know that she was blinded by bitterness.
Magnus, as bright as he is, as golden and burning as he seems above me, is so very real and beautiful. He’s like a rushing ocean, beautiful, and I’m happy to be swallowed up in the depths of his love.
He kisses down my neck and over my belly, pressing his tongue to every dip and groove of my skin. I’ve never felt more alive, more beautiful than I do in this moment as he climbs over my body and pushes inside of me once again.
“Fuck, Cassie,” he groans, holding my gaze with his dark eyes. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
I feel the pleasure building, spreading through me, and all too soon I’m falling over the edge again calling out his name. Magnus digs his fingers into my skin as he comes, and I hope the bruises linger there like a tattoo of his touch.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Magnus
There’s an odd quiet to the house as we sit in the dining room, it seems that the staff has all scattered, even Alice. Cassandra is warm in my lap, pressing her lips to my neck. There’s a spread of food in front of us, but neither one of us is really paying any attention to it. The dim lighting in the room is made brighter by the crackling, popping fire in the fireplace and the lightning from the storm.
“So, did it measure up?” I ask her, partly because I’m joking and partly because I really do want to know.
Cassie pops a grape into her mouth and laughs. Her hair is in a braid again and yet I can still feel the mussed soft strands in my fingers.
“My best friend lost her virginity in the back of a New York taxi cab,” she tells me, grinning. “I think I have her beat by a long shot.”
“I want you to know,” I tell her, wrapping a hand around her hip to keep her in place. “I don’t mean for this to be a temporary thing between us. I don’t think of you as just a fuck, Cassie.”
Cassie blinks at me with those big green eyes, and she leans down to kiss me. Her mouth is sweet. She looks like a soft kitten, purring and curling around me on my lap.
“I still want you,” she says softly, cupping a warm little hand over the back of my head. “I’m never going to stop wanting you, Magnus. I’ve felt that way ever since I first laid eyes on you. And I know that sounds crazy bu—”
I cut her off, “I’m glad to hear it,” I tell her. I want to say more but I’m sure that she understands and if she doesn't we have all the time in the world for me to show her.
I reach a hand down to squeeze her ass and she giggles sweetly in my ear. I want to push the cheeses and fruits aside and have her right here on the table. I want to slip inside of her again and again until we’re both satisfied and sated once more, falling across the table together.
“Can I ask,” Cassie begins hesitantly, pulling back to look at me. “Why don’t you want this place?”
It’s a heavy question, but I feel like I can tell her anything without any judgment. And for the first time, I do actually want to talk about this.
“Truthfully, it just reminds me of my father’s weakness,” I tell her, swallowing back the edge of anger in my tone. I don’t want her to misinterpret. “He built this place to get away and to make something of himself, and yet, in the end, he went running right back to the family.”