Chapter Nine
Morgan
I wake, swaddled in warmth, achy and filled with a hunger that burns deep in the pit of my belly. The room is dark but I know it’s mine, the twinkly star lights I hung when I arrived blink over the window. I shift but the cocoon tightens and in my ear I hear, “Slow. You’re injured,” in Sam’s soft, comforting voice.
Eyes closed, I stay in my spot, knowing he’s right. The last thing I remember is killing Hildi, then Clinton’s face. I feel the ache in my cheek and down my ribs. There’s another sensation, the soft caress of fingers along my jaw and fussing in my hair.
I shift just a little, realizing I’m not in the clothes I left in. I feel the soft cotton of a nightgown from my drawer.
“Sue changed you.” It’s as though he’s read my mind. “And cleaned you up.” With my eyes still shut I sink into the sensation of his lips along my ear. “Is this okay?” he asks, gently wrapping an arm around my waist. We’re spooning. He’s the big and I’m the little and relief stretches and groans in my muscles.
“Yeah, that feels nice.”
Sam. Beautiful Sam. With the strong jaw and Jolly Rancher green eyes. With the gorgeous face and kind smile. My friend. The man who has fingers that make my blood boil. Whose kisses bring me peace.
I need him now.
I want him desperately.
I’m hungry.
I’m wounded.
I need everything that he can give me.
“I heard you slayed a Valkyrie,” he says. Some of the pain dissipates when his hands run over my skin.
“She made me mad.”
He laughs. “I bet.”
“And the Morrigan?” he asks.
“I told her to fuck off.” I push my backside closer to him and he snuggles in just the same. I feel the hard length pressing against my back and my belly screams with need.
He lifts my hair and peppers hot kisses along my neck. Each one sends a flare of energy through my body. I’m learning every day the connection between my health, magic, and sex. If I want to be strong I need to be with my Guardians. Right now I need to heal and I’m quite certain he’s aware of my condition.
His hands bunch the nightgown around my waist and his fingers wander down my stomach and between my legs. I reach behind me, feeling for him, and it’s not difficult to find his enlarged cock. He’s clothed and I fumble for the buttons, wanting his skin next to mine.
“I need you to get undressed,” I tell him. “And get back in the bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” There’s a hint of amusement plus desire in his murmured reply.
He vanishes for a moment, slipping off his clothes. The bed cools behind me but when he returns I’m rewarded with the heat and impact of his body. Sam doesn’t wait and I don’t want him to. He eases me on my side, pushing my top leg over just a bit.
“This is…this position is new,” I confess.
He pauses. “Too much? Would you rather?”
But the spot between my legs is already wet and I crave the feel of him inside me. I lay my hand over his and encourage him. Without pause he enters me slowly from behind.
“Oh,” I cry, not only from the sensation of our bodies joining, but from the surge of energy flowing through my limbs. The bruises numb and my ribs cool while everything else is centered on Sam taking a tentative rock.
“I won’t break, you know.”
I feel his smile against my neck. And he pushes in before pulling out. I sink into the motion. Again and again and again.
He moves in quick, even thrusts, perfectly timed, and one hand holds my ass while the other is looped under my body, kneading my breast. The spot between my legs aches and I move my own fingers down to relieve the pressure.
To my surprise he slows dramatically. His kisses, his hips, slowly moving in and out. I pant from desire wanting more, faster, but with every excruciatingly, intense thrust my muscles turn to jelly. He feels so good. It feels so good, I bite my bottom lip and let him lead.
I’m drifting into the all-consuming sensation when I hear him whisper in my ear, “I’ve spent my life waiting for this moment. To share such intimacy with a goddess of such strength.” In and out. In and out. “I’ll never leave your side, Morgan. Not in a fight. Not on the battlefield. Not in your bed when you need my touch to heal.”
I cry out, because of his words and because I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on.
His mouth is on my neck and I turn to meet his lips with mine and it provides the greatest twist of pleasure below. “Harder,” I command, barely able to stand it. He grins and bites my lip, gladly picking up the pace, moving with increased speed. I no longer feel the pain from the fight, just him. Just his hands. His cock. The magical warmth of healing.
His hands dip between my legs and out bodies are melded into one. His breath coats my neck and the little grunts coming from his chest sound feral and wild. I’ve stopped listening, only feeling, only aware of my body aching in a different way. The coil deep in my core twists and twists, my legs lose their ability to stay apart, I scream when I finally come, a long, satisfying groan. Sam shudders behind me and his teeth clamp into my shoulder. I feel every twitch, every pulse, and we slump together in a mass of worn-out exhaustion.
Moments pass and the haze clears. I hear Sam’s breathing even out and I slip from his arms. Walking to the bathroom, I flick on the light over the mirror. My hair is wild, my eyes bright. In a quick movement I pull the nightgown over my head and stare at my reflection. The injuries fade—healing with passion and shared energy.
I’ve learned much tonight about my body and its abilities. Things I hope will be of use in the future. But one thing I know for sure, I think as I slip back in bed. Once a night may not be enough.