“Oh, Domina. You make it hurt so good.”
Kat shoved her sword the rest of the way through the high demon’s chest, leaning her weight onto it until her blade cracked through him and into the sodden earth at his back.
“Why are so many of you bastards masochists?” she asked casually as black blood seeped from his wound, spreading across his white shirt.
He grinned, revealing a row of serrated fangs, his dark eyes bleeding red, his cast of allusion slipping. Yet still, he wore the beautiful face of an angel, a fallen angel, as all high demons were.
“It isn’t that, Domina. It is you we all wish to covet. To feel your ire and your blade is as close to a kiss we will ever get.”
She shook her head in disgust, her long, blonde braid slipping forward over her shoulder as she increased her weight on the hilt of the sword.
“Well, that is certainly true, Farzel.” The demons always taunted her, knowing she was a true Flamma of Light and would never waver to their side. Never again. Only one man held her heart clutched in his tight grasp, cradling it carefully so that no one, no demon, would ever hurt her again.
The demon reached up and wrapped his hand around the hilt, his fingers caressing hers, his grin widening as he whispered, “We all know what sweet pleasure you gave the great Damas. We want it.”
Kat flinched, jerking her hand from beneath his as she planted a boot on his chest, sickened that he would remind her of her greatest sin. “Dream on, filthy fucker. You shall never have it.”
Before he could spill another foul word, she whispered the incantation, pulling the Flamma power from deep within her breast. The burning sensation of the Light pooled then swirled as she lay her hand back on the hilt of the sword, channeling her words and her energy through the steel to the red-eyed demon now writhing and trying to escape. With a swift push of power, the demon’s mouth gaped in pain right before his body crumpled inward, cracking and shrinking before imploding into ash and dust.
Kat stared down at the sooty stain on the grass for a moment before sliding the blade from the earth and sheathing it. She wished she had the power to truly kill these beasts like Genevieve did rather than expel them to Hell. But she smiled knowing her binding spell would keep black-hearted assholes like this one deep in the bowels of the underworld for decades if not centuries before they found their way back to the surface. It would have to be enough.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind her. She whirled to see George and Xander jogging onto the green of this quaint park in the middle of London.
George slowed but moved with long strides to her side, taking in the black smudge at her feet. “I thought you were going to wait for me.”
Kat shrugged innocently. “I couldn’t. He’d led a group of his minions toward the convent.”
The sight of him as he stopped before her took his breath away. Would she ever get over the beauty of this man? Tall and well-built with chestnut hair and a casual grace that made the aristocrats of old in the time when she’d first met him shrink under his commanding presence. But it was his eyes that stopped her heart every time they found hers. Clear and deep sea-blue, eyes that always saw straight to her very soul, whispering an unspoken promise of absolute devotion. Just like now.
He tilted his head and pressed a palm to her cheek, the tips of his fingers curling into her hair. His gaze roved her face, seeing everything in a glance. His other hand slid around her waist to her back as he pulled her close. He knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t let Farzel and his group breach the convent and take what they sought there—innocent girls orphaned since the war between the Light and the Dark, the angels and demons had begun. Likely, they’d take the pure nuns as well, just to satisfy their darkest urges to spoil and stain everything that was good and clean. George saw all her fears in one swift perusal of her face.
“So, my love decided to take on the demons herself. Nevermind her own safety.”
She tried to look away from the piercing blue, but she could not. And she certainly wouldn’t deny the truth to him. Not ever again.
“Yes.” She shrugged as if that were enough of an answer. For him, it seemed to be.
Leaning down, he brushed his sensuous lips across hers, feather-soft. “There now.” Another achingly tender caress of his mouth. “You saved them all.” Another. This one drawing heat low in her belly. “You can let that look of rage go from your eyes, my love.”
She gasped when he slid his tongue along the seam of her lips.
“Are you ready for tomorrow morning, my lady?”
She smiled at his old endearment, her heart stuttering at what awaited tomorrow morning. “Yes. Of course. But why at dawn?”
“A new beginning,” he whispered against her lips.
“Ahem.” Xander cleared his throat behind them, looking suave and debonair with his golden good looks and well-tailored hunting attire. He still carried himself like a gentleman of the 19th century aristocracy. “I understand you two can’t control yourselves, but we’re standing in the thick of demon territory if you didn’t remember.”
As if his warning summoned them, shadows moved, forming into more of the red-eyed fiends that followed Farzel. But one of them was not a demon. He was other—a creature formed from black Flamma that she recognized well. Bulging muscles with black veins webbing beneath gray skin and his sharp scimitar in his grip, there was no mistaking the notorious Bellock.
“Angel hunter,” George practically crooned, squaring off and unsheathing his sword with a zing of steel. “So pleased to see you again.”
None of them had seen him since the night of the Blood Moon when he’d escaped alive. Jude had been hunting the creature ever since to no avail. This angel hunter was smarter than most, his sole purpose was to kill all Flamma of Light. Specifically angels. George wasn’t an angel, but he was as close to one as a Flamma could get.
“Slayer of Demons…Stalker of Dens.” Bellock’s voice was deep and harsh, a rumble of growling words. He stepped into the circle the dozen demons had created around them, tilting his hideous face. “Killer of princes.”
Technically, it was Genevieve who’d dealt the deathblow on the demon princes on the night of the Blood Moon almost a month earlier, but George was the one to drive his sword deep into the prince’s black heart, the one who’d hurt Kat the most. It was an avenging blade that guided George’s hand that night, assuring that the dark one would never again hurt another. Just as he promised he would.
George smiled, the kind she’d seen him wear at a ball in the height of London society, disarming and harmless. But his eyes burned with a lethal edge.
Without warning, the demons descended. She, Xander, and George fought in a circle, their backs facing inward, swinging their blades, and slicing through the lower demons as if they were children playing a game of war. In truth, that’s what they were. These were all newly made demons by Farzel when he’d taken over this territory of London, trying to amass greater numbers and stake his claim. But they were weak and powerless against the onslaught of Xander and Kat’s strength who’d both been battling dark Flamma much stronger than them for almost two centuries.
George was locked in battle with Bellock, swords clanging, sparks flying from the Flamma power clashing in the night. Kat and Xander sliced through one demon after the other, constantly whispering the incantation to expel them to hell. The air filled with black ash, floating in the rising mist. When the final one had imploded into the ether, it’s black soul cast down below, she and Xander sprinted to the sound of steel on steel. Bellock bellowed.
At the edge of the small park where a lone lamp shone down, George and Bellock had spilled out onto the empty street. Kat and Xander rounded behind Bellock, his scimitar on the concrete, a deep gash bleeding black down his arm. His dark eyes swiveled from George to Kat and then to Xander, measuring as they encroached closer. In a flash, he’d scooped up his weapon and sifted away in a crackle of energy which snapped like a whip, the mist swirling in a circle where he’d stood a second before.
Xander sighed heavily. “Well, that was disappointing.”
“He’s definitely smarter than the demons.” Kat glanced up the street then back down before sheathing her sword.
“True,” agreed George with a sigh. “He knows when he’s beaten. The demons never do.”
Kat remembered the way Farzel smirked at her with lust burning his eyes as she drove her sword into him. Even then, he seemed undaunted by his fate.
“Hey.” George captured her chin gently and lifted her face toward him. “Are you all right?”
“Of course.” She let go of darker memories. “I was just—”
“Enough, enough,” said Xander with exasperation. “Sift out before Bellock returns with an army.”
Xander vanished into thin air, leaving his own circle of swirling fog. George took Kat’s hand and led their sift away from the London streets. They sped through the darkness, gray shapes blurring past as they slipped through time and space, reappearing at the outer gate of the Thornton mansion in the English countryside where they fell in love for the first time so many years ago.
They walked through the gate and the wards he’d implemented around Thornton, hand in hand and silent as they strode up the gravel drive. Their renewed love was still fresh since the night of the Blood Moon, when their world was changed forever in so many ways. Even now, Katherine felt herself a little shy as they walked into the large house and up the wide staircase to the wing of bedrooms. Her heart picked up speed in anticipation as George had proven himself the most expert of lovers in the past month. And he’d not let a day go by without showing her what she meant to him.
Rather than lead her to the bedroom they shared, he stopped outside one he’d appointed for her upon her first visit here nearly two centuries earlier.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Wrapping his fingers around her nape, he pulled her close. “You know how I am about tradition, Katherine.”
She loved it when he said her full name, but she still frowned. “Really?”
“Really.” He backed her into the door and pried her lips apart with his own, plundering her mouth and stroking her deep.
She moaned, thrusting her hands into his silky hair. Just when she thought she might convince him his staunch belief in tradition was ridiculous and pull him into the bedroom for a long night of lovemaking, he pulled away abruptly. With a brush of his thumb across her cheekbone, his blue eyes seared into hers.
“I’ll see you at dawn, love. Goodnight.”
Then he left her there, alone and frustrated and wanting. If she didn’t know the man would rectify the situation tomorrow, she would’ve screamed. Instead, she stepped into the bedroom, finding a lamp lit near the chifforobe which was open. The glow of the lamp shone on a gown hanging on the back.
Her heart beat wildly, recognizing the fabric as she drew closer. No, not just the fabric, she thought as she drew closer. It was the original dress, only altered for a more modern fit. She reached out a trembling hand and traced the embroidered line of roses along the bodice, the coral silk falling in a soft sweep.
“Oh, George,” she whispered on a sob, remembering the night she wore this dress. The night she’d met him for the first time. The night he’d taken her hand without even asking and led her in their first dance. When she’d fallen fast and hard for the devastatingly handsome Lord Thornton, not knowing then that he was more than a charming aristocrat. That he was actually the commander of demon hunters on the chase of the malevolent Prince Damas cavorting among London society.
No. She wouldn’t think of Damas. She wouldn’t let him take one more beautiful moment from her life. She swiped away the tear that had slipped over her cheek as she wondered how on earth George had found this dress after all this time. Or perhaps, he’d found it back then and kept it for her, as he did so many of her treasures. Hoping for their reunion.
She stroked the soft silk of the skirt before finally unstrapping her weapons and gear along with her leather pants and skin-tight top, her regular demon-hunting attire that let her move easily in battle. After a quick shower, she tumbled into bed with her hair still damp and smiled into her pillow as she drifted happily into sleep, anticipating tomorrow.
“Girl, get up.”
Katherine snapped her eyes open to find Genevieve sitting on the edge of her bed and shaking her shoulder. Her straight black hair which was usually falling around her shoulders had been pinned back on both sides, softening her face. Dressed in a sapphire dress that matched the color of her eyes, she looked nothing like the Genevieve she knew so well. The Vessel who had battled demon princes and had won, leading them into the Age of Gray with hope.
She laughed at Katherine who stared with a dumbfound expression. “I know, I know. But today is special. So get your ass out of bed and get dressed. You don’t want to be late today.”
The next forty minutes flew by in a flurry as Gen helped her with her hair and make-up before Kat finally slipped on the lingerie she’d bought for the occasion—ivory lace panties and matching bra—then she stepped into her dress. The last time she’d worn this dress, it was over a corset and voluminous underskirts, an unwieldy, glamorous thing as the dresses of her youth were. George had had it tailored to lose the billowing skirt. It still fit her torso down to her hips like a glove but then it fell in a straight, soft sweep down to her ankles, a modest slit up to the knee on the side.
She stood back and looked into the floor-length mirror, hardly recognizing herself. She shifted nervously at her own reflection while Genevieve stood to the side and stared, shaking her head.
“What? What’s wrong? Should I have put my hair up?”
“Hell no,” said Gen.
“Then why are you shaking your head?”
“Because I feel sorry for poor George. I’m hoping he won’t swallow his tongue when he gets a look at you.”
Kat laughed, giddy and hopeful and happy that this time had finally come. Gen stepped up beside her, her hand resting casually on the small bump forming low in her belly, a protective stance of her child within. She looked in the mirror alongside Kat.
“Seriously, you look more beautiful than any angel I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen quite a few of them lately.”
Kat scoffed. “Now you’re just teasing me. But I hope I look beautiful for him.”
“You could be dressed in a rag and he’d think you were a goddess.”
Kat smiled. This was true. She’d caught him staring at her so many, many times in the past month, now that he was allowed the luxury. But she was often doing the same to him.
“All right then.” She inhaled a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
“Oh!” Gen spun toward the dresser where a white box sat. “I almost forgot. He sent this for you.” Gen brought the box and held it out to her.
Kat gingerly opened it and nearly burst into tears at what sat within. “That man.” A bouquet of bright yellow cinquefoil flowers bundled together with baby’s breath sprigs and tied neatly with a coral ribbon.
“I take it the flower has significant meaning?” asked Gen.
“Yes.” She remembered his gift of the single flower in their early days of courting and how she’d treasured and hidden it from her monster of a husband.
“Oh, hell,” said Gen. “Well, don’t cry. You’ll ruin all my hard work.”
“I won’t,” she said, taking another deep breath to will back the tears brimming in her eyes. “Let’s do this.”
They made their way through the empty house and out down the long drive as the first gray light of dawn brightened the eastern horizon. The constant gray pall that covered the earth since the night of the Blood Moon only allowed shifting shades of gray and black in the sky. Jude, Gen’s husband and George’s best friend, leaned casually against the open gate, arms crossed in his black on black tuxedo, one foot crossed at the ankle. He looked like an ad for an expensive and decadent cologne.
“Why is Jude here?”
Gen smiled. “He’s giving you away, Kat. He insisted.” She arched a brow. Kat smiled. No one argued with Jude.
Once outside the wards at the gate, Jude straightened, pressed a palm to Gen’s abdomen and leaned down to sweep a kiss on her lips. Gen placed her hand over his and smiled up at him before swiveling to Kat.
“I’ll see you there.” With a wink, she sifted out in a whoosh of wind.
“Where are we going?” Kat asked, twining the ribbon hanging from her bouquet around her finger.
Jude arched a dark brow and crooked his arm. “Now, Lady Katherine.” He affected his most regal English accent. “Lord Thornton prefers to let this be a surprise.”
“Very well then, sir,” she replied teasingly and took Jude’s arm. “Lead on.”
Jude did just that, leading the sift which lasted only a matter of seconds. They slipped through the dark Void and snapped out with a crackle onto solid ground. Dawn had colored the sky blue-gray here. Kat stood before a high Gothic arch of church ruins. Snow-covered hills and trees swept away and surrounded the abbey. The River Wye rushed and rippled behind them. Jude waited for her as she took in her surroundings.
Kat gasped. “We’re at the Tintern Abbey.”
With a smirk, he guided her along the path, lined with three-tiered candelabras, leading them toward the entrance to the cathedral. Snow crunched beneath their feet, but all else was silent.
Kat had only been here once. A few years ago, she had accompanied Xander, George, and Jude here when they’d heard a rumor that a clue to the Vessel they sought might be buried here. It turned out to be nothing, another of many dead ends, but Kat had stood within the chapel and marveled at its beauty, even with its crumbling walls. She remembered catching George watching her, the look he gave her made her heart stop—one of longing and regret.
Snow blanketed the path and interior walkways of the ruins since the roof of the church was long-gone. Jude led her past the Gothic columns and under the intricate arches into the main Cathedral where the wall that once contained the stained-glass rose window stood tall behind the altar.
Kat sucked in a breath. The snow-dusted interior was drenched in golden light from hundreds of candles, bathing the sacred space in an ethereal glow. At the end of the aisle stood George and Gen. Xander and Dorian, Kat’s partner in New York City, and Mindy, Gen’s friend who had become Kat’s friend over the past months, also stood as witnesses at the end of the aisle. Both Mindy and Gen held smaller bouquets of the yellow cinquefoil.
Kat walked on trembling legs beside Jude till she finally stood before George, his smile and gaze telling her all she needed to know—that she was beautiful and wonderful and very, very loved. She took both his hands, noting his yellow cinquefoil pinned to the lapel of his tuxedo.
“Where on earth did you find English wildflowers in the dead of winter?”
“I have my resources,” said George, squeezing her hands gently when she let out a nervous laugh. He sobered and whispered low, “I’ve waited for this moment for so long.”
“Since we came here a few years ago?”
“No. Since that first night you walked into the Weathersby Ball and stole my heart.”
She could say nothing, knowing the truth of his words down to her bones. Movement on the altar pulled Kat’s attention away. Father Clementine, an old friend of Jude’s, stepped forward with a nod to the both of them.
Her brain hazed as the priest said the words of what marriage meant, the binding of two people into one. Kat understood this, yearned for this union with so much of her heart there was nothing left. A deep and true binding that she didn’t have with her first marriage. There should only ever have been George. But life and circumstance had taken root, inserting evil into their love, and dividing what was destined to be whole and complete. Until now.
And after all this time, after all the pain, suffering, sin, and redemption, she stood before him, this paragon of beauty and righteous man, to give herself with the words, “I will.”
He responded in kind, then slipped on her finger a golden band engraved with a chain of cinquefoils in a complete circle, the wildflower that had come to represent their undying love—unbreakable, wild, and so deeply true.
Before she knew it, George leaned down to kiss his bride, cupping her nape and holding her close. Mindy, Xander, Dorian, Gen and Jude clapped and smiled as George swept Kat in his arms and marched out of the heavenly cathedral.
“Wait. No reception?” teased Jude.
“No bloody reception!” called George.
Kat laughed as they sifted back to the gates of Thornton. She knew they’d be honeymooning here since it was the safest place with the strongest wards. George wouldn’t take her anywhere that wasn’t completely safe from demon entry.
“You could let me walk if I’m too heavy,” said Kat cheerily, her arms clasped around his neck.
“Not on your life. You’re mine now. I’m going to carry you to my bedroom and prove that you are.”
Kat laughed. “Like some pillaging Viking taking his quarry home.”
His gaze met hers, his blue eyes darkening. “Exactly like that.”
She shivered. George would bed her for the first time as his own, not while she was another man’s wife or simply his lover. The determination set in his grave brow sent a tremble of anticipation vibrating through her frame.
He didn’t halt as he entered the mansion but stormed up the steps two at a time, even with her in his arms, and marched to his bedroom, banging the door shut with his foot. Slowing his stride, he set her down gently by the bed and turned her by the hips to face the bed.
“Be still,” he commanded, his breath warm on the back of her neck.
She heard him remove his jacket and saw it tossed to the floor. His vest and necktie followed. Brushing her hair aside over one shoulder, he eased down the zipper. Cool air kissed her spine. He trailed his fingers from her shoulder blades down to the small of her bare back, opening the flaps and tugging till the dress fell to the floor. He crouched down.
“Step out of it.”
She glanced down as she did as he commanded, his hands sliding down to her left ankle.
“Lift your foot.”
He removed one heel, then the other, still on his knees. When he looked up and caught her gaze, she hitched in a breath. She’d known George to be a tender and an aggressive lover at times, but the burning blue of his eyes told her this was no ordinary coupling. He planned to mark her deep tonight. And her job was to sit back and enjoy the ride.
“Turn around,” he ordered, voice rough as rock.
Breathless, Kat could only obey. She did so. Kneeling before her as if he would worship her, his gaze roved her body, stopping and honing in on her lace panties. Sliding his hands up the backs of her calves then circling the front of her thighs, he urged her legs farther apart, stroking his thumbs back and forth directly beneath her sex.
Breathing fast, she watched his lust-filled gaze as he stroked and petted but did no more. “George.”
“Patience, love.” His voice was even and calm, the low timbre told her he was on the edge. She needed to do his bidding for he promised only pleasure.
Finally, he leaned forward and licked her sex through the lace in one long stroke, the friction making Kat moan and close her eyes.
“So wet already,” he groaned against her, his breath hot on her thighs. He curled his fingers into her panties at her hips and slid them down, but he remained kneeling on the floor.
Gripping her hips, he pushed her till the backs of her thighs hit the bed. “Brace yourself on your arms. Ease back.”
She did, falling to her forearms when he lifted both her legs and draped her calves over his shoulders. She’d never been intimately wrapped around him in this way before. So open to his gaze. So vulnerable.
He cupped her ass and lifted her hips off the edge of the bed. “Open your eyes and look at me, Katherine.”
Panting already, she did as he asked, staring down as heat flushed her skin pink. Holding her gaze, he licked out and flicked the bud of her slit, never looking away.
“Oh, God,” she murmured. The sight was so intimate, she could hardly stand it.
But she did. She watched him as he sucked and licked her even more. Her moaning increased and she rocked her hips up, grinding against his mouth, quickening fast when he slid a finger inside her and stroked.
“Please. Yes,” she moaned, rocking faster, clutching her fists in the covers, digging her heels into his back.
He slid a second finger inside and kept pace with her rocking tempo, flattening his tongue and licking hard. Then he opened his mouth and clamped his lips around her clit. She bucked up and screamed, finally squeezing her eyes closed for she couldn’t hold back any longer.
He eased back but continued to stroke his fingers slowly till she’d ridden her orgasm to completion.
“Don’t move,” he said.
“Not a problem,” she panted, falling boneless to the mattress.
He smiled. But it wasn’t his cavalier smile he usually wore, but one the devil might wear on his birthday when he was opening his present. He stood back and unbuttoned his shirt. Kat watched with pleasure, languorous as a cat as he revealed his beautiful, broad chest and chiseled abdomen. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, kicked off his shoes, and shucked off his clothes till he was gloriously nude before her. His erection stood thick and tall, flat to his stomach.
“Mmm. Come here.” She wanted to get her hands and her mouth on him.
He shook his head as he stood between her spread legs. She was so primed and ready, but he had plans of his own it seemed of how he wanted this night to go.
“Hands at your sides, Katherine.”
She blew out a frustrated sigh, but did as he told her.
“Arch your back a little.”
He slid his hands beneath her and unsnapped her bra. Once he’d slipped it off, he gripped both wrists, placed a warm kiss on the underside of one then the other before placing her hands at her sides again.
“Why can’t I touch you?” she asked as he crawled over her.
Leaning his weight on one arm, he trailed his other hand down her neck, over her collarbone, and flattened his palm between her breasts.
“Because I’ve wanted to claim you for nearly two hundred years, Katherine. I knew the moment I met you that you belonged to me. Can you imagine how devastating it was to discover that you were married to that creature who called himself a man?”
Kat remained silent. She didn’t want to dreg up these old memories, but something in George’s grave expression told her he needed to speak these words, he needed it all to be out there, now that they were safe within the confines of marriage. He went on.
“And when I thought to finally save you from that…man, you were taken again from me. I know that you suffered, but so did I. The fact that it was my fault you were taken—”
“Shh. It’s all right. We’re all right now. Let me.”
Realizing he said these things not out of pain, but from a different place, one of triumph, she nodded.
“It took a long time for me to finally forgive myself.” He stroked his palm down between her ribs, trailing his fingers leisurely to the flat of her stomach. Kat’s body melted beneath his touch. Especially when his fingers trailed back up and circled wide around one breast then the other in an infinity pattern. “Then you became the woman you were always meant to be. The hunter. The warrior. So beautiful. You are so fucking beautiful, Katherine.”
He rarely cursed. The emotion behind his words doubled her heartrate as he continued to make slow circles around her breasts.
“After all these years, you finally consented to be mine. And so we were lovers, and I thought nothing in the world could make me happier. But there was one thing more. To be my wife.” He cupped her right breast in a possessive hold. “You are my wife now. And I want to brand you with my body—deep and hard—knowing you are finally, truthfully mine. Do you understand?”
He asked her this in a casual manner but the stormy blue raging in his eyes told her there was nothing casual about it.
“Yes,” she finally answered. “I understand.”
He gave a stiff nod, the weight of his words spurring him on to finish what he started.
He leaned down and took one nipple in his mouth, teasing the peak with his tongue. She arched her back, pressing toward him. He moved to the other breast, grazing the nipple with his teeth.
The prickle of pleasure-pain shot straight between her legs, wetting her more. He reared up, pinching her nipples lightly which were slick from his tongue. The possession in the tightness of his jaw, the furrows in his brow, and the darkness of his eyes sent a thrilling shiver through her body.
“Roll onto your stomach.”
She did so without even a flinch.
“Raise your hips up. That’s it. Spread your legs for me. Let me see. Yes. Just like that.”
Kat fisted her hands in the covers, imagining what he was seeing as he smoothed one palm over her ass.
She felt the head of his cock sliding along her slit as he drenched himself good in her folds. He continued this for some time, longer than necessary.
“Stop teasing,” she hissed.
“As you wish, love.”
He slid his palm up her spine to the base of her neck and wrapped his fingers tight then eased the head of his cock inside. Slowly. So slowly she was moaning in agony. When she thought she’d scream in frustration, he slammed hard inside of her, seating himself to the hilt with a groan. Her body jerked forward with the impact. He gripped one hip, curling his fingers into her flesh, drew back and drove home again, once more jolting her forward, her breasts jiggling.
“Yes, yes,” she sighed into the bed as he pressed forward, thrusting a third time, grinding hard at the end. She clenched her sex around his thick cock.
“Bloody hell,” he gritted out. Then he started moving, drawing back and pounding hard each time, picking up the pace till all she heard was the slap of flesh on flesh, his heavy groans and hard breaths sawing in and out of his chest, and her own mewling moans.
Suddenly, he gripped her upper arms and pulled her upright, his strong thighs braced on the outside of hers, his cock buried deep. He reached one arm across her chest, palming the far breast and tweaking the nipple between thumb and forefinger. He slid his middle finger of his other hand between her folds and stroked a teasing circle around her swollen nub. She reached back and gripped his strong hips as they continued to flex and thrust inside of her.
“You’re soaking,” he whispered in her ear, biting her lobe. “All for me, isn’t it, Katherine?”
All she could do was nod and moan.
“I want you to come, Katherine. Soak me good. Right. Fucking. Now.” He pinched her clit and she fell over the edge with a scream, her sex pulsing around him.
He thrusted and pounded as her orgasm rippled around him. He pulled almost all the way out and drove deeper, stroking the nub in her slick folds and pinching her nipple till finally he groaned so loud, his voice rumbled through his chest to her back. He clenched hard, grabbing hold of her flesh as he spilled in a long wave inside her, his seed emptying with pulse after pulse of heat. When his orgasm finally subsided, he kept her upright against him and brushed a kiss to her shoulder, sweeping his lips to her ear.
“I love you, Katherine. My wife.”
She wrapped her arms across his, still clutching her hard, still connected in the most primal way. She looked over her shoulder. “And I love you. My husband.”
He slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her long and deep as if he could never get enough. In the Age of Gray, the sun rarely, if ever showed its face, but for a single moment, a golden ray slipped through the parted clouds and glazed through the eastern window, slanting across their bodies and their bed. It was a rare moment. A precious one, in so many ways.
In truth, she knew they would never get enough of each other. They had lost almost two centuries that should’ve been theirs. But that was all in the past. Now they had a future that was as golden and bright as the single ray that blessed them on this morning of their wedding.