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He worshipped me with slow, purposeful strokes. The pressure built inside me until I was a shuddering mess beneath him. My hands twisted in his hair. I ached. He cupped me beneath my arse, angling me upward to devour me, deeper, hungrier. He wrote his magical spell into my skin and I…I could do nothing but cry out and tumble headlong into the enchantment.
I became a being of pure ecstasy in that moment, and as the magic crested and ebbed away, I held Quoth, pressing his cheek to my chest, relishing the hardness of his muscles, the silk of his hair, the veryrealnessof Quoth.
“I’m sorry that you’re missing your class,” I murmured, gripping him under the arms as he crawled up my body so our mouths could meet again.
“That’s okay. The afternoon was free time to work on our projects, and the studio is open late, so I’ll go back this evening. This is much more important. And fun.”
The ache inside me that he had sated grew anew, becoming a swirling tempest that demanded an offering. I opened my legs, and Quoth notched his narrow hips between them. I traced my fingers over the beautiful tattoos cascading down his arms. They were no longer images to me but just splashes of color that delighted my eyes.
I raked my hands over his body, taking in every hard line and firm curve of him, wishing I could commit touch to memory in the same way I could with sight. I wanted to drink in this moment whenever I felt that I didn’t belong.
He slid into me with slow care, our bodies perfectly melding together. As he pushed a little deeper, ribbons of color danced and shimmered in front of my eyes, turning everything around us to darkness – part of my eye condition that used to be scary but was now just a beautiful part of me.
The world softened and darkened around us, cocooning us in this moment.
“You feel like silk,” Quoth whispered, his mouth trailing kisses over my neck as he pushed deeper. My body shimmered like fireworks beneath his touch, his…everything.
Quoth sat back on his knees, dragging me closer, making sure he still remained impaled inside me. He gripped my ankle and moved my leg onto his shoulder. Then he did the same for my other leg. I gasped as he leaned forward and thrust into me once more.
He’d changed the angle. He thrust deeper, and with my legs over his shoulders, his pubic bone rubbed against my clit. My fingers tore at the sheets as the pleasure built inside me with every thrust.
I don’t remember ever trying this position before, but damn, It was my new favorite.
I braced myself against the bed, my legs tightening against his shoulders with every thrust to work myself against him. I wanted him deeper still, so deep that we could no longer tell where one of us ended and the other began.
And as he brought me to the very center of that tempest once more, I held on tight and knew, in my heart of hearts, that no matter what happened with my writing, I would always be a goddess to this man, and that was enough for me.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Quoth stayed with me in the suite for the afternoon. We ordered room service, and I read Donna’s manuscript (It was an interesting history of the castle, but it had quite a few odd spelling mistakes, like the word ‘prick’ when she meant ‘pink’, which caused me no end of giggles. Something about the errors felt familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite figure out what it was). I wrote her some notes.
After that, I got to work on the writing assignment Hugh had set for us – to write the first chapter of a mystery plot where someone’s paranoia is justified. Quoth took a hushed call from Morrie in the bathroom, which I could only assume was him assuring the other two that he’d fucked a smile back onto my face.
He flopped across the bed, doodling in his sketchbook while I read out sections as I wrote them, and he helped me polish the piece until I thought it was something worthy to share.
At 6PM, Heathcliff and Morrie returned with a well-exercised Oscar and a tray of food from the kitchen. “We thought you wouldn’t want to eat in the restaurant with the others,” Heathcliff said. “We thought maybe we would go to bed early while Quoth went to the painting studio and you could choose a terrible movie and—what are you doing?”
I pulled out a woolen, figure-hugging dress in a deep red color that I loved. “What do you think? I’m getting dressed for the evening critique session.”
“But I thought you weren’t going to see that man again.”
“No,yousaid I’m not seeing that man again.” I held my chin high, tucking my hands behind my back so none of them could see them trembling. Oscar climbed up on the bed and nuzzled me. “I paid for this course. I’m going to get everything out of it that I can, even if Hugh is a terrible person. Speaking of Hugh, he hasn’t got Charlie to lock you in a supply closet as a citizen’s arrest?”
“Donna gave Heathcliff a stern talking to, and he’s not allowed in the same room as Hugh Briston for the remainder of our stay, but it’s all smoothed over,” Morrie said as he picked at the roast lamb. “Donna was rather strict. I bet she’d wield a whip with precision and cruelty.”
“I don’t think you should go to this thing tonight,” Heathcliff nodded at the window, where the wind and rain rattled the panes. “Not during a dangerous storm.”
“It’s not storminginsidethe house.”
“You never know. Zeus could strike a lightning bolt through the window that fries Hugh and blasts your eyebrows off.”
“Good.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him. “Then I wouldn’t have to get them waxed.”
Heathcliff flopped into the armchair by the fire. “There’s no reasoning with you. Fine. You go to your flagellation. I’m going to sit here and mope until you get back.”
Quoth slid out of bed and went over to the food they’d laid out. “This looks incredible. I’ll have to eat quickly. I want to get back to the studio.”
Morrie brushed past him to swoop in on the last stuffed Yorkshire pudding. “You have fun, birdie. I’m returning to the spa for my LED facial.”
