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‘You feel beautiful.’ He slid two fingers between Abigail’s outer lips, gliding over her slick flesh as Abigail ground against his hand. ‘Have I told you that today?’
‘Only—ah!—a hundred times or so.’
‘Not enough, then.’ Drawing one of Abigail’s nipples into his mouth, Marcus slipped two fingers inside her. Abigail’s grateful sigh of pleasure made him smile as he sucked her nipple all the harder; every part of Abigail’s body welcomed him with such eagerness, such delight. ‘Not enough.’
He needed Abigail to know that she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever touched. Needed her to be so eager for this, the next stage of something so powerful even Marcus could barely understand it, that she was practically dripping with desire: leading, not following. Teasing Abigail’s breasts with his lips and tongue, curling his fingers just enough inside her to make her whimper, grind herself against his hand, tangle her fingers in Marcus’ hair and tug—yes, more of this, more and more and more until Abigail reached out and boldly squeezed Marcus’ rigid cock in his breeches, her eyes giving an unsubtle command as Marcus eagerly disrobed.
The feel of Abigail’s naked skin against his made Marcus shiver. He threw a blanket over them both, covering Abigail with his body as the fire crackled, kissing her with what he knew was an unwise quantity of passion as he slowly placed his cock at Abigail’s entrance.
It was only as he did so that he realised that he was just a little frightened. Of hurting Abigail, of disappointing her. Of what this would mean afterwards—but really, Marcus already knew what it would mean.
It would mean everything. Everything in the world. But before Marcus could fully comprehend it, Abigail gently shifted her hips until the head of Marcus’ cock was inside her.
Marcus couldn’t suppress a gasp. It felt too good, too right; Abigail gasped as well, followed by a quiet burst of pain-tinged laughter that Marcus found indescribably sweet.
‘I’ll stop.’ Marcus had to steady himself, breathing hard. ‘I don’t want it to hurt.’
‘It doesn’t. It’s tight—very tight.’ Abigail’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed. ‘But it doesn’t hurt.’
‘So I mustn’t…’
‘Stop? Absolutely not.’ Abigail gently shook her head. ‘Not under any circumstances.’
Flood, fire, earthquake? Nothing was more important than this. Marcus gently nodded in agreement, slowly moving a little deeper inside her.
Slow. That was the only thing he had to remember. Slow, slow, slow, enough to keep Abigail feeling more pleasure than she did discomfort. No matter if it was uniquely frustrating agony to move this slow, go this cautiously; the time spent didn’t matter, would never matter…
… and then, in a swift, glorious rush of feeling that had Marcus gasping with pleasure, he was inside her to the very hilt.
‘Ohh.’ He tried to keep breathing, keep at least a dim sense of the world around him. Abigail tensed beneath him, her eyes wide; perhaps this was too much for her. ‘Am I hurting you?’
‘No.’ Abigail tightened around him. Marcus couldn’t help but gasp again at the feel of it; it was as if their bodies had been made to fit like this, made to move together. ‘Don’t go.’
He would never, ever go. Not if she didn’t want him to. But before Marcus could follow that thought to its inevitable conclusion, to the increasingly necessary idea of having Abigail in his life, Abigail squeezed his cock with such a sweet sigh of pleasure that any hint of reason flew directly out of Marcus’ head.
He couldn’t thrust too hard. Not too fast either; he couldn’t scare her, couldn’t damage something as beautiful as this moment. Slow, deep, well-judged; Marcus gritted his teeth, biting back a growl of pure lust as he withdrew a little, then thrust. Abigail gasped as he did so, the hot flush of visible ecstasy at the base of her neck letting Marcus know that he had judged correctly. Then the same movement, again, again… and then it was impossible to keep control, to be measured in any way, because Abigail was bucking back against his thrusts with a high, broken cry in the back of her throat.
The rhythm came out of nowhere, built from the starlight and cool night air and each clumsy, ardent movement the two of them made. Quicker than Marcus had imagined, harder than he’d imagined as well; it was as if he and Abigail had been waiting for this ever since their first conversation, the first moment they saw one another. As if a lifetime of frustration, of searching for this perfect pleasure and never quite finding it, had unlocked something in both Abigail and himself—something fierce, something wild—and that not even God himself could stop them now that they had started.
Nothing mattered but Abigail. Her slick folds enveloping his cock, gripping him tight, her honeyed sweetness dampening Marcus’ thighs. The flushed, intimate rose-pink of her nipples, the way they tasted as Marcus sucked them, the sound of her moans against the silence of the hills; these new discoveries were sacred things, holy, and Marcus knew he would both remember and honour them for life.
He was already on the verge of coming. Not yet, not yet; this felt too good to stop—but oh, fuck, too good to continue as well. Marcus buried his face in Abigail’s shoulder, sinking himself inside her with a hoarse cry of bliss as his stomach knotted, trying to gather enough of his composure to at least make sure Abigail came first.
‘You feel so good.’ He murmured against Abigail’s neck, caressing one of her full breasts in his hand as he reached down with the other in between their two bodies. Moaning as he touched her mound, spread wide by his cock, he found her bud with his fingers. ‘Better than anything I’ve ever felt.’
Abigail’s cry of pleasure only spurred him onward. Marcus brought the pad of his fingertips to her bud, stroking it with utmost gentleness even as he thrust all the harder. Abigail shivered and bucked; now she was guiding the rhythm, grinding against Marcus in a way that had him biting his lip hard to keep from emptying himself inside her.
Her voice was shaking, breathless, but definite. ‘Like that. More. Please.’
Marcus had never been so happy to receive orders. He drew delicate circles around her bud as he thrust, bringing his lips to Abigail’s; he needed a warm, hungry kiss, the kind only Abigail could give him, and was rewarded with Abigail’s whimpers as her mouth met his. The aching, begging sounds that meant a woman was on the verge of coming apart; he could hear that in her voice now, but it was as if the knowledge of what it meant was entirely new to him.
It was like no other woman existed before Abigail, and none would exist after. Just as Marcus grappled with that realisation, with what it meant, Abigail tightened around his cock with a deep quiver.
‘I’m—it’s happening.’ She whispered through Marcus’ kiss, her hands tight around his neck. Marcus kept thrusting, revelling in the feeling of Abigail’s body. ‘Oh, Marcus, oh, please…’
Her words trailed away, a moan of pure bliss ending her sentence. Marcus held her close, kissing her hard, drinking in every sound of pleasure Abigail made as her climax came. Every shiver, every inarticulate cry; it was better than music, better than breathing, better than life itself. It lasted no time at all and forever, all at once, and every timeless second of it etched a permanent memory on his heart.
And then, all of a sudden, Abigail’s shivers were dying away and his own lust was growing uncontrollable. Marcus managed to keep thrusting for a few hasty moments, moaning as his movements grew less and less controlled, before he finally withdrew with an illicit but powerful feeling of regret.
