'Why did you stop?' I demand to know, but all he does is smile and shift up the bed, notching his large cock between my thighs.
I stare at it, at the many gold pieces that adorn it, the ones that I’vefeltbefore.
I lock my legs around him and see his surprise.
But he gives me what I crave, impaling me deeply, and I let out a groan so loud that I know the others must hear it. They're only in the next room, after all.
I hear movement. Something falls. And I imagine their ears pressed against the wall, straining to hear.
My grin is wild. I should give them a show.
Morgan sets that punishing pace that he seems to enjoy, and the bed rocks against the wall in a rhythm that makes it impossible not to know what's happening in this room.
I let the loud moans and whimpers I can’t help infuse the air around us, beyond us.
His fingers find my mouth and push between my lips.
'Taste yourself,' he growls. 'Taste the sweetness that I enjoy.'
His words are enough to make me find my pleasure, and my release is hard, everything I wanted, as he fills me with his thick, hard staff. He comes, joining me at almost the same instant, and I bask in the knowledge that we're together in this moment.
I grip onto his massive arms, gasping and writhing as his seed is driven deeply into me.
Afterward, he climbs from the bed and I feel the absence of his warmth keenly.
He grabs a cloth from the ewer on the table nearby, holds it in front of the hearth to warm for a moment on the glowing embers, and then comes back to the bed and removes theevidence of himself from between my legs. I let him, staring up at the rafters of the ceiling in a sated haze.
'You're very good at that, you know.' I say quietly.
He smirks at me. 'I am.'
I chuckle at his arrogance. 'You could be a bit more modest.'
He shrugs. 'Why? I aim to be very good at pleasuring my female. I rejoice in my success.'
He puts the cloth back and I wonder if I should leave. I don’t want to outstay my welcome, though he did just call me his. But he comes back to the bed and draws down the coverlet, beckoning me to lie with him. I do because, if I'm honest with myself, I‘ve felt very alone in that room downstairs every night. I’ve rarely ever slept completely by myself.
He turns me so that my back is to him and puts his arms round me.
'Sleep, Bryn,' he says, kissing my temple. 'I'll be here in the morning when you wake up.'
I let out a contented sigh and I close my eyes. I don't trust him completely, not yet, but things are changing. I can see a time when I could put my faith in him.
I'm backin the white room, but this dream is different from the ones I’ve been having since I came to the Light. The man in the robes isn't happy this time. I don't think he's angry with me, more worried. He's pacing.
I sit in a child's seat at the little table. I'm writing now. I must be older, I think, and I can read all the words on the parchment in front of me. A story that I'm writing, or that I'm copying from a book, perhaps. I'm not sure, but I can see my name, and I recognize it. I could write it now if I wanted to.
I think the man is speaking to someone I can't see. His hands are flailing. He keeps looking back at me. He's afraid. Definitely afraid.
The room melts away and I'm back in the darkened corridors of the ether.
But this time, there is no portal to walk toward. I'm not in between worlds. I'm lost there.
I walk through nothingness, knowing I should be panicking and yet I feel nothing at all, and then the screaming starts again. It’s far away this time. The whispers whirl around me. I can't see who they’re coming from, or what.
‘Remember, Bryn,’ they say. ‘Remember. Remember.’
‘Remember what?’ I scream. ‘There's nothing to remember.’
