TOGETHER FINALLY
The fire burned low in the grate. It cast a ruddy light over the cover on the bed, over the carpet and made gentle shadows on the bed where Ambeal lay with Alf. He held her close.
“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.
“I love you, too,” she said back. They were in their bedchamber at Bronley castle, just returned from their sojourn at Dunkeld.
Ambeal rested a gentle hand on Alf's shoulder, on the side away from the dark, aching scar where the sword had cut. Alina, Alf's aunt, had stitched the wound and cleaned it with strong spirits and it had closed over, a dark, jagged mark on his smooth, pale upper arm.
“I hope it doesn't hurt anymore,” she whispered in his ear.
“It hurts if I touch it,” he said with a smile, “but otherwise I barely notice.”
“Good.”
She rested her hand on his chest, loving the way she could feel his heart beat under her hand. Steady and regular, the rhythm rocked through her, making her feel safe and warm and contented. She looked up at his face where he lay, long lashes resting on his cheeks, quiet beside her.
“I hope it heals soon,” she commented.
“Mm,” Alf nodded sleepily. “So do I.” She felt his lean body tense under her hand as he turned to face her. “I hope so very much,” he whispered. His hands moved to stroke down her side in a way that made her gasp and warmth soak into her abdomen, traveling lower to fill her body with a slow, insistent flame.
“Why?” she whispered, gasping as his hands stroked down her body, leaving a tingling pleasure in their wake.
“Because,” he murmured into her skin as he kissed her shoulder, “when it's healed, I'll be able to pick you up in my arms again and then we can be even more sweetly wicked than we are now.”
“We can?” she asked, giggling as his hand stroked her belly and moved lower still. She gasped in pleasure as he touched her between her thighs.
“I think we can,” he murmured. His mouth touched her neck and moved lower still and she closed her eyes, waiting with delicious expectation for his lips to clamp onto her nipple. When they did, she gasped and her eyes opened then closed again in wonder as his fingers kneaded her nipple and went lower still. He traced down her abdomen and put his hand between her thighs.
“Oh!”
She breathed in deeply as he gently stroked her, his fingers moving over the soft folds of her skin and stroking her in a way that made her jolt with surprise and wonder. She was starting to shake now as he gently slid a finger into her and touched her in ways that made her shiver with a rising desire. She drew in a breath as he withdrew his hand and moved to lie on top of her.
His eyes looked into hers and she felt the sweet warmth of that expression tingle down every limb and pool inside her. His body moved back so that he knelt between her knees and he gently touched her again, his hand stimulating the hardness between her folds even as his manhood slipped into her. The pressure in both places was almost unbearably sweet and she couldn't help the incoherent moans of pleasure that escaped her lips as he touched her there.
“Oh! Oh!”
He smiled and withdrew slowly, then pushed all the way in again, the length of him filling and fulfilling her in a way she would never have imagined. Every time she was surprised by how wonderful it made her feel and every time she wondered how she could ever have imagined something so beautiful.
He pushed in again and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her, wanting to feel the pressure of his body against her as they moved together, thrusting, panting and moaning as her body lost all knowledge of time or place. She knew only him and the sweet, magnificent feeling of his hardness meeting her softness, a union of flesh. She knew every part of him in this moment, the way it felt against her, familiar, sweet and lovely.
She closed her eyes, feeling the heat rising and building inside her, rising and rising and filling her and making her shiver, pant, and thrust.
Then there was no more awareness. Only the sweet mist of oblivion and the flowing warmth inside her.
They lay together, drowsy in wonderment, until he rolled off her. She lay beside him, her hand on his chest, her head resting on the side of his arm.
“I never imagined something like this,” he whispered to her as he stroked her hair.
She opened her eyes, looking at the ceiling, and turned to kiss his skin. “Me, too.”
There was not much to say, for a while. He held her and she slept, feeling the sweet exhaustion of release fill her. Her belly was a mass of sweet aches, her whole body felt wrung out as if someone had rinsed and soaked her, and dried her in the sun, recomposing her body into a form that recalled nothing except pleasure.
“Ambeal,” Alf whispered gently.
“Mm?”
“Do you think we should change things?”
“What sort of things?” Ambeal asked sleepily. She looked up at him. His eyes were open, but only a little, the lids drowsing over his big brown eyes.
“I don't know. House things,” he said. “Any rules for the tenants...that sort of thing. You know more about the running of this place than I ever could. You will have to teach me.”
Ambeal closed her eyes. After the scorn of Beiste and, to a lesser extent, her father, his assertion that she was a competent manager was amazing.
“I'm not sure,” she said, thoughtful. “We could reduce the rents of the cottagers, but raise the tax on merchants,” she proposed. “That way, we'll encourage more settlers, more artisans.”
“I like that,” Alf said, twisting to smile down into her eyes. “Wise suggestions.”
“Thank you,” Ambeal said. “I managed some of the household matters since I was fourteen years of age. My mother passed away when I was six.”
“I am sorry,” Alf said. “What was her name?”
“Emelia,” Ambeal commented. Her throat was tight with tears. She still recalled her mother's lovely oval face, her friendly green eyes.
“A lovely name,” Alf said.
“Mm.”
They lay quietly a while. At length, Ambeal rolled over so that she lay on his chest and looked down into his eyes. He was so handsome, with that long straight nose and wide brown eyes. She sometimes couldn't believe he was real.
She kissed his neck and his eyes shot open.
“What was that for?” he asked, a big grin bisecting his face.
“Because,” she said. “Just because you're there. And I love you.”
Alf beamed and stroked her hair.
“You're a beautiful woman,” he said gently.
“I'm a happy woman.”
“Mm,” He closed his eyes. “You make me happy. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said.
After a moment, he rolled over, pressing her onto her back. He kissed her, his tongue gently insistent as it entered her mouth. She closed her eyes and let him explore her mouth, shivering as the kiss increased in intensity and passion.
As his body moved over hers and she felt the insistent probing of his body at her thighs she rolled over so that he was captive beneath her.
“Mm!” he smiled up at her. “You are an adventurous woman, are you not?”
“Indeed,” she said, holding his lean, hard body against her, reveling in the warmth and smoothness of his skin against her chest.
“I like that,” he replied. “Though I think we shall have to fight for supremacy here,” he added, rolling her over so that she was on her back, gasping with pleasure as he parted her thighs imperiously with his knee and pushed himself inside her.
She saw that mischievous laugh move his lips and rolled over again, pinioning him to the bed.
“You think so?” she asked, giving him a wicked grin.
“I believe so,” he added, straining and throwing her onto her back again and thrusting into her.
She giggled and leaned onto her side, wrestling to throw him onto his back, but he was moving in her now. giggling and laughing, his laughter mingling with hers, she held him close and they moved together, his pleasure mounting and hers growing and building inside her once again, a warm furnace that could consume her and leave her full of nothing but bliss.
Later, as they lay together, he on his back beside her, she with her hand on his chest, eyes closed, she knew that she could not be more filled with joy.