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It began. The first cascade of sensation rolled her over and pitched her under. Through the roar in her ears, she heard Rusp shout. His weight crushed her to the table as his pace staggered. Then she was gone, submerged in glorious quakes of mind-shredding bliss. Irene dove, hoping to never emerge.
She tumbled from one decadent peak to the next. Fiery pleasure washed through her. She was devoted to every detail of her undoing. As glory began to ebb, she clung to every nuance of the fading elation, grabbing every mote she could.
Finally, she lay gasping on the table. Rusp hovered over her, his eyes closed, moaning in tandem with each throb of release he expelled. His beastlike aspect had fled, leaving his roughly handsome features somehow soft and vulnerable.
I love you.She felt it through her whole being and barely kept from saying it out loud.
As if he’d heard anyway, his eyelids fluttered open. He gazed at her for a moment, betraying a sweetness she hadn’t realized he was capable of. A gentle smile twitched his beard.
“Hi,” he said.
She grinned. “Hi.”
Awareness flooded his gaze, and the protective warrior emerged. Concern tightened his features. “Did I…are you okay? I was rough. I must have hurt you.”
He began to pull loose, and Irene grabbed onto him. “I’m fine.” She was. Soreness was waking, but she wouldn’t have him move for the entire world when he wore an upset expression. “I’m great.”
Jemi was there, holding a pain inhibitor inhaler. He sent a blast down her throat. “She might damage you more than you damage her. Your back and shoulders bloody. Have to bandage.”
“Don’t do anything to heal scratches.” Rusp’s teeth flashed in a grin. “Keep those as long as possible.”
“Such a warrior.” Irene leaned up to kiss his nose.
“You aren’t. We check for injury.” Despite her protestations, he pulled free of her.
They crowded close, inspecting her intimately to make sure the rough sex hadn’t offered damage. “Look fine,” Jemi finally decided. “No tears, no cuts.”
“Good. Who’s next?” Irene asked.
Sherv laughed. “You crazy, woman.” He bit his lip, however, yearning clear in his gaze.
She was determined to add to the memories to sustain her in the years to come. She sat up and met his gaze. She cupped his jaw in her hands. She kissed him with lingering care. “Do you know how rare it is to find someone so perfect? I found three of you. Maybe I can’t keep you, but while I have you, I want it all.”
He blinked, shocked. Sorrow crowded in. “Wish…wish so much. Irene…I want…”
“Me too. But life has given us now, so we’ll take it.”
He stared at her for a few beats, torment filling his handsome features. He drew a breath, then kissed her.
She wasn’t sure if he was careful because Rusp had been rough or because he needed to go slow because he felt so intensely. When he entered her, still on top of the table, it was in gradual increments. She experienced every inch of his tender invasion and reveled in it. When he reached his end, she basked in the complete joining all the more for having so thoroughly experienced it.
They lay quiet for a long while. Sherv gazed into her eyes, his hair curtaining their faces. They might have been the only two people in existence. Irene’s fingertips traced his features, committing him to touch as well as sight. The arched brows over his large, mesmerizing eyes. The sculpted cheekbones. The nose that was a hair from being too big, but lent him character. The strong chin. The well-shaped lips begging to be kissed.
She memorized him, in pieces and as a whole. She saw the strong man and the sensitive soul housed in him. She verified how she loved him, feeling it as thoroughly as she had with Rusp.
It was darkly funny to have discovered the great goal of humans since time’s beginning: perfect love. It was as stupendous and earthshaking as the romantics claimed. It was also soul shattering, the harshest sentence fate could possibly pass. Irene had no idea how she was supposed to survive leaving them behind. She doubted she could.
Sherv began to move at last, slow and easy. She rocked along, meeting his leisurely thrusts, grinding deliberately so electric thrills woke and chased through her. They writhed on the table in sinuous accord. Their kisses were unhurried tastings rather than desperate devouring, but they fed from each other just the same. There was no nuance Irene didn’t mark: the way the crease between his brows deepened as passion grew, the hard planes of his chest against hers, how he repeated motions when her breath caught.
They climbed passion’s peak bit by bit, pausing when they noted they’d gone too far, too fast. Insistent bliss jabbed Irene, begging to be unleashed, but she set it aside in favor of extending the journey. She was in no hurry to reach her destination. Sherv apparently wasn’t either.
The only reason she knew she wept was thanks to the tears tickling her skin as they escaped and Sherv collected them with kisses. She felt the sadness that brought them, but she concentrated on the perfection of joining. There would be plenty of time to cry later.
Arousal was a constant throb, waking them from the quiet moment despite their efforts to stay there. More often, Sherv’s hips beat quicker before he caught himself. Irene found herself straining for stronger contact, forgetting in the increasing surges of exhilaration to cling to quieter pleasure. Their tongues swept together in greater need. Hunger gripped them, shoved them forward, demanded they surrender to its claim.
They fought it for as long as they were able. Occasionally, Sherv stilled entirely, his eyes squeezed closed though his cocks jerked impatiently inside Irene. Or she’d push against his shoulders, shaking her head in breathy denial of lust’s command. Despite their efforts, ardor frayed their threads, one by one.
Grunting as if in pain, Sherv thrust harder, faster. Irene met his invasion, her hips lifted, her sighs growing to whimpers as craving dug deep. Their mouths met and breath mingled. Instinctive urges, older than love, took over. They hurtled toward the precipice.
