Lancelot’s movements became erratic, his hips stuttering against her. “No one else gets to touch you. Never again,” He growled, his hand snaking down between them, thumb rubbing her clit. “Let me feel you, baby.” He added pressure to her core, causing her vision to go white hot.
She cried out, clinging to him as he pounded into her, chasing his own climax. Her body shook, tears gathering in her eyes as he came with a roar, clutching her against him like she was his only life source. He spilled inside her with a raw sound, buried to the hilt, cock twitching as if even his body prayed to stay inside hers.
She clung to him, sweat-slicked and gasping, legs still locked tight around his hips. Only their ragged breaths filled the tent, their bodies tangled beneath the cloak and blankets.
Guinevere’s skin still tingled, her body aching in all the best ways. Lancelot had moved little — just sprawled there beside her like a man who’d been struck down by something divine.
She turned her head on the pillow to look at him.
He was wrecked.
Chest rising slow, lips parted, lashes dark against his flushed cheeks. She could still feel the ghost of his mouth on her breast, the rasp of his voice saying her name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
God, he was beautiful like this.
She stretched, slow and feline, then turned to drape herself half over him. He groaned.
“Careful,” he mumbled. “I’m not sure I survived that.”
“You took a sword to the leg hours ago, du Lac.” She teased, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck.
“Exactly, you cruel woman.” The lilt in his voice could melt even the iciest of her walls. “I am an injured man.”
“And yet you begged.”
He opened one eye, peeking out at her. “I did not.”
“‘Please,’” she mimicked, nipping his ear. “‘Please, Gwen, let me feel you.’”
“That’snot my voice.” He said, mock-scandalized.
Guinevere dragged her fingers through the damp curls at thenape of his neck, gentle as the tide. “You’re shaking,” she murmured.
“So are you,” he whispered back, barely audible. His palm spread across her spine, grounding her. “You undid me.”
She smiled, eyes half-lidded, drunk on him. “That was the idea.”
His laugh was low, wrecked. “You’re cruel.”
“You love it.”
He turned his head, kissed her wrist where her pulse still fluttered. “I do. God, I do.”
They lay like that for a moment, their limbs tangled, the silence full of nothing but the rhythm of shared breath and the occasional dazed exhale.
Then…
Her hand drifted lower. Lazily. Deliberately. A teasing drag of her nails across his stomach.
He stilled. “Gwen.”
She kissed his shoulder sweetly. Innocent. Almost. “Mmm?”
“You’re-” His voice cracked as her fingers slid further, brushing his cock with featherlight touches. “You’re insatiable.”
She grinned against his skin. “I like you soft,” she murmured, closing her hand around him. “But I enjoy ruining you more.”
He groaned. “I’m already ruined.”
