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He’d thought about it. He’d dreamed about it. He’d pleasured himself countless times imagining this moment and the feel of her clenched, hot sex around him. But Sirus wasn’t focused on his own pleasure in that moment. He’d spent more time imagining her face as she came apart in his arms. What sounds she would make when she found her peak and fell over the edge. He wanted to bring her to that place. He craved it more than a man lost in the desert craved water.
When he pulled away from their kiss, she was panting and flushed and brimming with need, the teasing no longer playful but hot and desperate. Her eyes were heavy, her pupils dilated and dark. He kissed a hot trail down her neck, spending time nibbling on those delicious freckles. She rasped his name, rubbing her sex along his length. He grabbed her hips hard, held them still, and hissed against her flesh. If she kept on, he’d spend himself, and there were more important matters to tend to.
Sirus lifted her light body, pulling her from the warmth of the water so that her chest became flush with his face. Gwendolyn buried her hands in his hair and gasped at his forcefulness, but she didn’t protest. Not one little bit.
His mouth watered seeing the tips of her nipples harden beneath the silk of her bra. He kissed and nibbled around the line of fabric. The moan it elicited from her was so luscious his cock twitched, and he thought he might spend himself just listening to her cries. He wrapped his left arm tighter around her to hold her up, freeing his other to trail over her skin. He ran his finger along the edge of that dark fabric. She shuddered, and his name fell from her lips in a pleading whisper.
His siren desired more. Who was he to deny her?
Through the fabric, Sirus brushed his fingers over the tip of her peaked nipple, watching her face as he did. She groaned, her head falling back with abandon at the threat of what was to come, her fingers digging into his hair and her nails grating along his scalp.
A dark rumble spread through him at the slight touch of pain those nails brought. He pulled the fabric down with a single finger, revealing one perfect breast. For a moment he was motionless, stunned by that perfect mound of sweet, milky flesh. Flesh he’d dreamed of worshipping. He gently kissed the top before palming her, her hard nipple grazing against the rough skin at the center of his palm. Gwendolyn hissed a sharp breath, and shuddered under his touch, arching her back further into his hand, pressing herself harder against him.
Rougher. His siren did not want his gentleness.
Sirus groaned before leaning in to feast hot kisses along her neck. He palmed her roughly, scraped his teeth along the skin of her exposed neck. When she was writhing and panting against his touch, that’s when he dropped his mouth to that perfect swell of flesh. When he took her into his mouth, it was like feasting on a delicacy.
She moaned, and it was like music. A long note of utter, dark pleasure. Her hands fell from his hair and perched on the tops of his shoulders, as if she were lost. Sirus worshipped her with his mouth, sucking and kissing and licking and nipping at each breast until she was whimpering for more. For him to fill the need inside her. For her release.
He held her up still with one arm, feasting on her breasts with hot kisses, while his other hand dipped below the surface of the water. He ran his fingers up her thigh, testing to see if she would want him touching her there. She dug her nails into his shoulder and looked down at him, her eyes wild as they met his. Dark and luscious and hungry.
He slid his fingers up further, and her gaze grew molten. An invitation. A call. More. She wanted more. To be sure he understood, she dipped her body further down so that his hand moved higher up her thigh.
Gods, yes. He would give her more.
Sirus licked her hard, exposed nipple as he ran his thumb over her panties at the place he knew she wanted. The sound she made caused his blood to quicken. He’d never forget that sound. She moved along his touch and whimpered. He could hear it in her little cry. Not enough.
His body tensed, his pulse pounding so hard his heart felt barely contained behind his ribs. Gentle. He knew he should be gentle.
“Sirus,” she groaned, both plea and command. She did not want gentle.
A curse in the old tongue fell from his lips against her skin. He pushed her panties aside, and the moment his fingers touched her sensitive flesh, they both moaned with raw and utter ecstasy. She was swollen and ready. He knew if she weren’t in the spring she’d be drenched. He rubbed his fingers over her again and groaned in tandem with her. He was so hard it hurt.
Sirus took her breast back into his mouth to distract himself from his own need. She moved over his fingers, her hands once more buried in his hair as he pushed her to the edge. When he felt her growing close and a pleading groan fell from her panting lips, he pushed one finger slowly inside her.
Gods, she was so hot and slick. He’d made her that way, and it was a heady, possessive thing to realize. Gwendolyn moaned, throwing her head back, pulling away from him just enough that she broke his mouth’s hold over her breast. When he pushed another finger inside her, all was lost. She worked over him, riding him as he thrust his fingers to the rhythm she set.
She bent to press her lips desperately against his. Her tongue worked in his mouth in feral, hungry strokes, breaking away only to moan and gasp her pleasure. She breathed his name, and he could sense the pain in it. She was so close.
He’d wanted to taste her. To lay her out over the grass at the edge of the spring and feast on her until she couldn’t form a single thought amid her pure and utter ecstasy. But it was cold and snowing, and she was close…and if he laid her out on the shore he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself from her. If she tried to touch him or pull him toward her, he’d give in in an instant.
How any rational thought managed to seep in through the heat of their embrace, he had no idea, but it was there. She wasn’t his. He could give her this. Satisfy her wanting and bring her pleasure, but that didn’t mean he could take his own. She was not a mere dalliance.
He couldn’t have her.
Pain. He felt it hot and visceral as it scorched through him. She was not his.
Sirus kissed her roughly, losing himself to the moment. If he could not have her, he would make this perfect. He scrubbed his beard down her neck before working over one of her breasts. Then the other. Gwendolyn writhed under his touch, her sounds short and lush and dark. He shifted to get a better angle, continuing to work his fingers inside her while his thumb caressed that spot where she desired pressure. She shuddered a gasp when he did, pulling him closer.
“Sirus,” she breathed before she moaned. Close. More.
His thumb worked over her, his own muscles tensing as he sensed her reach the edge. It only took a few strokes of his thumb before her body began to grow rigid with that sweet pain she was so close to relieving. He kissed her, and it was…different.
A jolt spread through him at that kiss. It was short, only a harsh pressing of lips and a small swiping of tongues, but there was something in it. Something gentle and hard all at once. When she broke away, she glanced at him. A flare of magic caressed her emerald eyes, and he shuddered to the depths of his bones. Her breaths turned sharp as their rhythm grew tighter, and she leaned her forehead against his, digging her fingers into his beard. It was so intimate. So overwhelming, he lost himself in that simple moment. When she came apart, she didn’t throw her head back or rock with abandon like he’d imagined. She pressed herself against his body, wrapping her arms around him like she might float away if she didn’t, burying her head in his shoulder. Her entire body tensed, then shuddered violently as she found her edge, her sharp cries of pleasure muffled against his neck, her sex clenching around his fingers. He drew out her pleasure until all the tension faded from her and she fell limp in his arms.
That’s where she lay, panting, sated, and hot. Her cheek nestled on his shoulder, her body pressed against his while he held her. Every moment that passed, he expected her to pull away. Expected her to put distance between them. She didn’t. She lay there with him while he stroked his fingers up her back beneath the water. Soon her breathing steadied, and he realized with shock that she’d fallen asleep.
Sirus stuttered a ragged breath and closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her body against his. All these years, he’d wanted this, had dreamed of it. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, and Gwendolyn shifted in her slumber. He knew it wouldn’t have been like this with anyone else. No one else was Gwendolyn.
