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Speaking of which, he lowered his gaze and found hers in the dimmed room. Her bedraggled hair spread on the pallet, beguiling. They kept staring at each other for long moments, a surreptitious communication passing between them. His body reacted to it, to her, to her naked form against his. He must go out and try for cold rain. Only it was not raining any longer.
“Did you sleep well?” He asked in an attempt to dispel his all too familiar craving for her.
“Immensely.” She replied, stretching languid along his primed body.
Blast!
“Thank you for yesterday, by the way.” She added after her long, long stretch.
His hand rested on the dainty curve of her still slender waist, his body turned to her. He obliged himself to remain immovable. Except parts of him did not. Stay immovable, that is; or in lassitude at least.
She adjusted her body, causing her breast to touch his skin. All lassitude gone, he became rocky hard. These morning cuddles began to be exceedingly enjoyable!
Her head moved and then her elegant lips touched his chest. Oh, dear! His breath arrested in his throat and he swallowed in a dry bobbing of his Adam’s apple. His manhood eager and ready. She kissed his chest again. No!
“Aurelia!” He breathed tight.
“Hm?” She answered. Her lips found his nipple, to nibble at it.
Goddamn it!
“Is this gratefulness?” He had to know; he did not want her doing this just out of a misplaced sense of compensation.
“No. This is voluptuousness.” She nibbled the other one.
He groaned helpless as his arms locked around her and he sought her mouth thirsty. They kissed famished, lengthy. Each moment it transformed in a deeper and deeper kiss, inflaming them.
“You spent a difficult night.” He mumbled when their mouths separated at last. “I shouldn’t do this to you.”
As an answer, she licked his throat while one of her hands sneaked into his underpants, finding him hard and in affliction. He was lost. Quite simply.
He rolled her on her back, palming the side of her breast, holding it to fasten his mouth on it, hungrily. She gasped, arching for him, her head falling backwards. Her knees cradled him; her fingers merged in his mussed hair, making him feel needed.
“Aurelia,” He breathed. “You make me go delirious!” He confessed, his mouth ravaging her other breast.
She glued her body to his, fervent, tangling her legs around his, sighing. Her hips moved in wanton rhythm, grazing his now freed manhood. His fingers descended through her middle to reach her core, hot, wet, ready. And massaged it. Damn, but he would not be able to contain himself.
“Aurelia.” He called her incandescent. “I need you this minute!”
She spread herself wider in response. He thrust deep and slow as paradise and perdition engulfed him. He held her with both arms, completely merged in her, taking her blind, frantic, as if there was no tomorrow. He took her bursting with fire as a mad man in lust, in need. In love! Held her around her waist, his mouth devouring hers, his body consuming her. He took and gave in the same measure, and wanted to bestow his love on her, convey his cherishing, his devotion. He wished to cover her in the wholeness of his emotions, make her his in every possible way; yearned to dissolve in her, be hers. Be one with her.
She took everything and gave as good as she got. She moved with him, around him, under him. With him. They laboured together in search of their own heaven, each time more avid, more impatient. Her arms held him firm, her mouth devolved his kisses in between moans, her legs surrounded him hungry. Combustion dominated them, coercing them to be oblivious to anything else as they headed to the precipice. She tumbled there first, gripping him so tight he feared he would collapse. She cried out contorting in delectation, inducing him to his final downfall. It assailed him with violence, as he convulsed raving in wrenching pleasure.
He fell on her, head buried in her neck, breathless and spent.
Chapter Fifteen
Aurelia decided to relax, as Conrad rode his horse unhurried along the green fields, his iron arm holding her firmly in place. They left the cottage soon after eating the remaining of the food he had brought. She suggested they leave her horse there to be picked up later after the blacksmith had shod it.
She leaned on his chest, taking in the landscape bathed in a cool watery early morning sun. The memory of last night fresh in her mind. When she realised her horse lost a shoe, she became apprehensive. Darkness befell, together with the heavy rain. She thought of the child she carried and blamed herself ten kinds of fool. She must have noticed that it had been brewing rain. The events of the afternoon monopolised her thoughts, leading her to be oblivious to everything else.
As the hours passed, she walked in the general direction of the manor, hoping the rain would recede, but it did not. Her pace kept steady, progressively worried with the horse and the consequences to her health. A forecast she would take a long time to reach home on
foot as there had been nothing more to do. She should have remembered the cottage; she admonished herself. The urgency to reach home summed to her worries interfered with her wits.
An enormous amount of time elapsed when she distinguished a light deep in the sheets of rain. She had started walking in its direction, even without seeing who it may have been. Relief drowned her as she recognised Conrad not far ahead. She had the irrational impulse of throwing herself on him and holding him forever. She succeeded in refraining herself though. Making a fool of herself, more than she did already with this impulsive ride, did not appeal to her.
Hence, she tried to keep to herself, rather than induce a momentary loss of control. The memory of the way he took care of her in the cottage moved her to the verge of tears. The tender consideration he bestowed on her figured beyond anything she imagined of him, or of any man for that matter. This came as completely incongruent with the husband she remembered him to be. His attitude filled her with a honeyed warmness difficult to identify. It made her raw and vulnerable.
