He liked it.
Thank God, he liked it.
So I gave him more, taking my time, sometimes lifting my eyes to see his face darkened, his eyes heated, watching me.
And I liked that.
Thus I gave him more. Scooting down, I pushed the covers down with me.
And there he was. Hard, long and thick, standing proud, an invitation for my attention.
God, gorgeous.
I adjusted in a way he knew what I wanted and he spread his legs. I fell through and he lifted his knees, legs now wide.
I took him in, spread. For me. His gorgeous cock rock-hard. For me. All the power of him contained and waiting. For me.
All his beauty…for me.
Oh yes.
My nipples throbbed, my breasts felt heavy, the satin against them glorious torture, the area between my legs wet, I curled up between his legs, dipped close and ran the tip of my tongue up the underside of his hard cock, from base to the ridge of the tip.
Another groan, this one not stifled, and another buck of his hips.
I looked up at him to see the muscles in his arms and chest straining and the veins of his arms had popped out. His hands were gripping the headboard hard and I swallowed a whimper at seeing his power leashed, his passion controlled.
For me.
I gave him a small smile.
“Take my cock,” he ordered, his voice thick.
I dropped my head and kissed the tip but gave him no more.
“Maddie—”
I moved and ran my tongue along the juncture of his hip and thigh. He shifted with agitation. I did too, then I moved to run my tongue along the other juncture.
“Take my cock, Maddie,” he rumbled.
I looked up at him, holding his eyes as I again ran my tongue along the underside of his shaft.
“Gods,” he groaned, his head going back, his corded throat and the bottom of his strong, square jaw exposed. Taking all that in, I felt my clit start to pulse.
“You’re so freaking beautiful,” I whispered and his chin tipped down.
“Take my cock,” he clipped.
“So unbelievably beautiful.”
“Take me, Madeleine.”
I slid my tongue out slowly, touching its tip to the tip of his cock.
A rumble tore from his chest and I saw now the muscles of his arms straining and his fingers were gripping the headboard so hard I feared he’d tear it apart.
At that, I decided it was time to give him more.
I wrapped my hand around his cock, brought it to me and took it deep.
“Thank the gods,” he rasped out, his neck again arching.
Then I gave it to him, mouth, tongue and hand. I sucked deep. I wrapped my hand tight and stroked hard. I vaguely noticed that now, his whole body was straining, even his legs and I knew he was fighting back surging up and fucking my mouth.
And that turned me on more.
His rumbles became groans, spurring me on and when they deepened and I felt his body tightening, I slid him out and sat up.
His head came up and his eyes seared into me.
“I want you to take my seed down your throat,” he commanded, and at his words, another rush of wetness saturated my sex.
But I fell to my hip, yanked up my nightgown and tugged down my panties.
Swiftly, I shifted up to straddling him, grabbed my nightgown and pulled it over my head, tossing it away.
“Another time, baby,” I offered, reached between us and curled my fingers around his cock.
“Take me deep and ride hard, poppy.”
He wasn’t getting this. He didn’t get to give orders.
But, damn, I liked how he did.
Still, I slid his tip through my wetness and whispered, “In a minute.”
“Now.”
I moved him to my clit, used him to rub hard against it and that felt fucking awesome.
“In a minute,” I gasped.
“Now, Madeleine.”
I rubbed him harder against me and made a mistake.
My head had fallen back, what he was giving me and I was giving me consuming me, I repeated myself.
But added the word “baby.”
Suddenly I found my hand pulled from his cock. I righted my head just as he positioned himself to my entrance and both his hands grasped my waist. Fingers digging in, he drove me down.
My held fell back again as I breathed, “Fuck yes.”
And before I could start to move on him, his arms clamped around me.
My head came back up in surprise and I saw his face.
He was gone. It was like the night we arrived in Karsvall.
There was no control.
There was nothing but want. Hunger. Heat.
He shifted to his knees, taking me with him. As he did this, he lifted me up and my weight and the power of his arms slammed me brutally back down on his cock.
I loved it. It tore through me, pushing me straight to the edge. I was teetering as he fell forward, dropping me to my back in the bed.
But he lifted right back up. His fingers finding my ankles, he yanked my legs high, pressing them to his torso, pushing my heels into his shoulders as his hips pounded into mine, our eyes locked.
“Baby,” I whispered.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered, thrusting violent and deep, his fingers tight around my ankles.
“I’m close,” I gasped. “If I do that, I’ll come apart.”
“Touch yourself, Maddie,” he growled.
My head shook on the bed. “Baby, I—”
He pulled out, swung my legs around so he could roll me to my belly then he yanked up my hips so I was face down but ass up in the bed.
Then his hand cracked against my ass.
Oh God. God, God, God.
Yes.
My hips jerked, my ass stung, my body fucking burned.
“Touch yourself,” he demanded.
Instantly, I lifted a hand between my legs and touched myself. Within a second, I was whimpering uncontrollably.
His hand cracked against my ass again.
“Yes,” I breathed, pressing my fingers deeper, circling hard, lifting my ass to communicate I wanted more.
He gave it to me.
“Oh my God, Lo,” I moaned.
Another smack.
My head flew back. “Yes.”
Another one.
“God, Lo, yes,” I exclaimed and came, hard, my cries sharp and piercing the dark.
I kept coming even as I felt him slam into me from behind and keep doing it.
And I kept coming with his fingers wrapped tight around my hips, yanking me back hard even as he thrust in harder. I was only just coming down when he drove in, ground in and I heard his grunt of release that was so deep, I felt it vibrate through his cock right to the heart of me.
An aftermath quiver shuddered through me just listening, not to mention feeling.
He couldn’t have come down before he pulled out, yanked me up and pressed his cock so that he’d buried it along the crevice of my ass.
But his arms wrapped around me tight, one at my ribs, one at my chest and he shoved his face in my neck.
“You called me Lo,” he said there, his breaths labored, his voice gruff.
Suddenly uncertain, I whispered, “Yes. I’ve heard the guys call you—”
He shoved his face deeper into my skin and squeezed so powerfully with his arms, my breath left me in a gush.
“This pleases me,” he whispered back.
Thank God.
I relaxed into him.
He kept whispering, his words soothing into my skin. “You please me.”
I closed my eyes but lifted my hands to his forearms, curling my fingers around tight.
He gave me another squeeze even as his hips pushed in, pressing his cock deeper between the cheeks of my ass. “Are you tender, dove?”
“Yes.”
“But all right?”
“Oh yes,” I breathed.
That got
me another squeeze.
Then his arms relaxed (slightly) and his lips glided up my neck to my ear. “Some other time, I will take this arse,” and his hips pushed in again so I knew what he was saying.
A tremor shook my body.
I’d never done that.
But I wanted Apollo to do that to me. I wanted him to take me any way he could. I wanted to take him any way I could. I wanted to own him and I wanted him to own me.
And this knowledge shook me.
He wasn’t done.
“Your arse again red, your fingers working between your legs, you’ll climax with me buried inside it.”
Okay, now I was thinking I wanted that immediately.
“We’ll need oil,” I said softly and his teeth sank into my earlobe, which got another tremor before he shifted his lips to the skin at the back of my ear.
“I’ll get some,” he murmured there.
Goodie.
His arms moved. The one at my chest slanting to cup my breast. The one at my ribs doing the same to cup my sex.
“You give me this,” he said gently.
“Yes.”
“Freely,” he added.
“Yes.”
“With abandon,” he finished and he didn’t hide this pleased him as well.
I said nothing but I felt a lot. God, so much. It was almost impossible to contain.
He pulled me deeper into his body and again shoved his face into my neck. “This makes me happy.”
Oh God.
“I’m glad, Lo.”
His mouth went back to my ear. “Is my dove happy?” he asked tenderly and I bit my lip and felt even more.
So much more, it was devouring me.
And I didn’t mind fading into it.
That shook me too.
My fingers tightened into his forearms and I answered, “Yes, I’m happy, Apollo.”
He said nothing for long moments. He just held me intimately, pressed close, both of us on our knees.
Finally, he broke the silence. “You’re seeping. I will wash you and we will sleep.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
That got me another squeeze and a kiss on the neck.
Then he moved away to settle me gently in the bed and he bent to brush his lips on my jaw before he left me.
Then he set about undoing me.
And he did this by washing me, sliding my nightgown on me, smoothing his hands over the material then joining me in the bed, pulling the covers up to my shoulders and gathering me close, tangling me up in him. He did all this tenderly, with that look I felt in my belly and around my heart on his face.
He also did it like I was breakable, but precious.
Cherished.
No one had touched me that way.
Not in my life.
He held me tight to him as he rolled side to side to turn out the gas lamps beside the bed, leaving us with nothing but the firelight.
When he settled us on our sides, he drew me even nearer and I felt his lips at the top of my hair.
“I tell you now, my poppy, for years, I never thought I would again be happy. Never again.” He tucked me closer and finished on a rough whisper. “So I never imagined I could be happier.”
At his words and all they meant, my heart slammed in my chest, but I burrowed deeper, shoving my face in his throat, unable to say anything. Only able to feel.
“Sleep, Maddie,” he murmured.
“Okay, honey,” I forced out.
I felt his lips leave my hair and he kept one arm around my shoulders, holding tight while the other one moved down my back to smooth over my bottom, cupping me there lightly as if he wished to sooth the warmth that his hand left there. Warmth I didn’t mind in the slightest.
I should have slept. Everything I knew, everything I’d learned, everything that was me told me to keep my mouth shut.
But in his arms, all he’d said, all he’d done, all we gave each other, I didn’t.
My voice so quiet, it was even difficult for me to hear, I told him, “All my life, I’ve never been happy. So I never imagined even being that way. Until now.”
He heard me.
I knew because that got me another powerful squeeze that took my breath away and I felt his lips back at my hair.
“I wish you to share why this was with me, Madeleine.”
“I will, honey,” I wheezed.
He heard the wheeze and loosened his arms.
“Not now. Now we sleep,” he commanded and at his arrogant, bossy command, I smiled against his skin
“Right,” I muttered.
“But I want you to sleep knowing how much it means to me that I’ve made you happy.”
I took in a trembling breath and to let him know I knew how much it meant, and hopefully let him know how much what he said meant to me, I pressed my lips to the skin of his throat for a kiss. Then I turned my head and pressed my cheek at its base.
He continued to hold me close.
I burrowed closer, tightening my arms around him.
And I slept.
Chapter Sixteen
Skulking
“I cannot believe we’re doing this.”
That was Meeta.
“Shh!”
That was Loretta.
We were skulking through the forest toward the main house.
We were doing this because Apollo told me two things the night before.
One, the men he was waiting for had arrived, they’d been set to patrolling and thus all of Ulfr land was now protected. This meant it was safe for us to leave the house and wander around without an escort. Apparently his soldiers had been out on leave (kind of, I had a feeling “leave” meant “leave on missions Apollo didn’t think it necessary for me to know” and I didn’t really want to know so I was okay with that) but now they were back.
Two, he’d given the children my cookies and they’d love them.
“It’s lucky I had one before I gave them to Christophe and Élan,” he’d told me, grinning. “For when I went back for more, they were gone.”
This made me happy. Not only that the kids had liked them but also that he’d gone back for more which meant he liked them.
That night, I was to have dinner with them.
Suffice it to say, I was freaking out.
I wanted to ask Apollo for one more day (or seven of them) in which I could make them a variety of things. Snickerdoodles. Chocolate fudge. Lemon meringue pie. And I wanted to do this because I wanted them good and primed to meet me.
But I’d told Apollo I’d have dinner with them that night and I couldn’t go back on that now. He was excited (in his badass other world soldier type of way) for me to do it so I had to do it.
For him.
But in thinking about it (okay, fretting about it), I decided that I couldn’t walk into a room with them and keep my cool.
Unless I saw them again.
Therefore, during dinner one night when Apollo offhandedly told me their schedule—breakfast with him, studies, lunch, outdoor activities then back to studies before he spent time with them in the evenings—I was skulking through the forest with Meeta and Loretta in order to spy on them during their “outdoor activities” (whatever those were).
For moral support, I’d brought Meeta and Loretta along.
For obvious reasons, I had not shared with either woman, or Cristiana, that I was from another world. But knowing I looked so much like the other Ilsa, in other words, their dead mother, Loretta got me and understood my concerns about how the kids would react to me (if not all my concerns about why I was the way I was about them).
Meeta, however, watched me shrewdly in a way that felt weirdly like she’d figured things out, something she couldn’t possibly do as, according to Apollo, only those who needed to know about the two worlds knew (with the warning I was to keep it that way, no matter how close I grew to the women).
That said, Meeta had agreed to go, if reluctantly. Though, mostly this was because, having been born and r
aised in the sun, heat and sand of the Southlands (this I knew because she’d described it), being out in the cold was not one of her favorite things.
So now we were skulking.
I’d been reduced to skulking.
I felt I should be slightly embarrassed about this but mostly I was anxious about dinner that night and I didn’t have it in me to be both embarrassed and anxious. Therefore anxious won out.
“They can hardly hear us from this distance,” Meeta pointed out to Loretta as I kept moving ever closer, using the horse tracks in the snow as my guide to the house.
“You never know,” Loretta returned.
“Do they have unnatural hearing?” Meeta shot back.
“Not that I know of,” Loretta replied.
“Then they will not hear,” Meeta stated with clearly strained patience.
I was no longer listening to their somewhat ridiculous conversation, a conversation that would usually make me laugh, or at least smile.
In the last few days they’d had these a lot. This was mostly because Meeta was highly intelligent, highly logical and not overly emotional (or, at least, she didn’t show it). She was like a Maroovian Spock. Loretta, on the other hand, was not stupid but she was excitable and emotional so she wasn’t exactly Uhura or even Dr. McCoy. More like an honor roll cheerleader who’d been beamed aboard the Enterprise.
This made me Captain Kirk, for I was leading them on a misguided venture and I hoped, like Kirk seemed able to do, I could get us through it unscathed.
On this thought, I saw it through the trees.
The main house.
Karsvall.
And what a house.
I had taken not one thing in when we’d arrived there days before.
Now, as I cleared the trees but stood behind one, peered around it and stared, I had no choice but to take it in.
This was because it was massive, long and four stories tall.
It was also made of the same lacy-carved, dark woodwork as the dower house but there was a lot more of it. Tons more.
The windows on the bottom floor were all arched and each as tall as a man. Along the front of the house there were decorative iron torches planted every three or four feet at a diagonal pointed away from the house. And on the second floor, every few windows, there were French doors that led to balconies with a carved wood balustrade surrounding them.
I noticed, taking it all in as I moved behind a border of trees, that the whole thing cut stark in the white snow. All around it was cleared so the dark pines and leafless trees framed it from a distance making it look like something from a postcard.