Flames in the Darkness
He carefully lowered his body over hers. Her smooth skin, faintly damp with sweat, wrapped around him like velvet. As he rubbed against her, savoring the sensation, a flicker of fear crossed her small face, half-hidden in shadow.
He kissed it away, sliding his tongue back into her narrow mouth. He devoured the now-slick membranes with greedy strokes, and a low, purring moan vibrated in her throat. Breathing hard, he pressed her trembling, yielding body gently into the mattress.
Her skin was slick with sweat now—perhaps some of it his own. The sudden spike in temperature clouded his mind. He ground his hardened length against her petal-soft flesh while his lips trailed along the delicate line of her throat.
When he nipped lightly at her rapidly pulsing neck, she shuddered and dug her nails into his shoulders. The nails, roughened from repeated breaking and regrowth, scraped his skin, and the sensation only heightened his arousal. He bit and sucked at the prominent line of her collarbone, then let his mouth descend to her heaving breasts, fanning her reactions.
Her body, which had been pliant with fear of the unfamiliar act, suddenly went rigid. He stroked soothingly down her trembling spine and took a mouthful of soft skin. A tangled sound of moans and sobs poured over his head. The heat consuming him had become almost unbearable, yet his wife still could not relax.
Barcas caressed her stiffened limbs with impatient, gentle hands. As his touch drifted lower, the tension surrounding her grew sharper. He leaned close to her ear, voice hoarse. “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. Just relax.”
In the darkness he saw her wide eyes darting without focus. He kissed the damp corners of her eyes, wet with sweat and tears, and continued his careful ministrations. The woman who had been shifting uncomfortably gradually began to accept his touch. For a moment the sheer sensuality of the scene made his vision blur.
Barcas sat up, watching her reactions closely, then gritted his teeth and drew her closer. Under his more intimate caresses a broken whimper escaped her rosebud lips. “I-It’s enough now. It’s enough, so hurry up and do it.”
He clenched his jaw. The urge to obey her command nearly tore him apart, yet he could not let himself be fooled twice. “No. You still need to endure a little longer.”
“I don’t want to. I can’t hold back anymore. So just—”
He swallowed her coaxing little mouth. Her sweat-slick arms immediately wound around his neck. This woman had always unsettled him with her capricious ways—retreating when he approached, then glaring reproachfully when he withdrew—driving him mad. Now he held her captive in his arms and devoured her without restraint.
How long had he been stroking and licking her now-wet skin? He felt her body, rigid with tension, slowly begin to loosen. He gripped her right thigh and slowly lowered himself. Moist flesh enveloped him in a tight, clinging heat.
Barcas exhaled a shallow breath, seized the headboard, and braced his thighs. Sweat soaked his back as he fought to restrain his own body from moving too wildly. After biting the inside of his cheek for a while, he pushed his hips forward a fraction more. A muffled moan broke from her lips.
Despite all his careful preparation, she still could not easily take him. Frowning at the increasing pressure, Barcas lay over her and drew a deep breath. It was a mistake; the stronger scent of her heat flooded his lungs and made his head spin. He ground his teeth and clutched the headboard harder. A sharp crack sounded as the dense wood splintered.
Worried she might be frightened, he glanced down, but his wife seemed oblivious to anything happening around her. Seeing her eyes glazed and lost in the unfamiliar sensation, the last thread of his reason snapped.
Bracing one hand beside her head, he began to move his hips in shallow thrusts. All he could do was fight the urge to rut like a stallion in rut. Every muscle in his body spasmed with the effort of not breaking her fragile frame, which looked as though it might snap in a strong wind.
Brows furrowed, he repeated the shallow motion, but the tight pressure refused to ease. He pulled back slightly. In that instant she clung to his back and let out a strange, sobbing whimper that contained his name. The sound sent fire racing through his veins.
He thrust his tongue into her mouth and resumed moving, no longer able to hold himself back. Desire, freed from its leash, steadily quickened its pace. He tried to regain control, but once unleashed, his body only grew more forceful.
Frustration twisted his face as he looked down at her. “Does it hurt?”
She shook her head, voice barely audible. “Hah… it doesn’t hurt at all.” Her damp breath pressed against his ear like hot wax.
He gripped her waist and clawed for self-control. She might be lying. She was the sort of woman who habitually hurt herself; perhaps she was simply swallowing the pain again. He absolutely could not let his guard down—
“But my body feels so strange, Barcas… Do something about it.”
The tear-choked plea swept every thought away. He cursed under his breath—words he had never spoken before—and pressed her hard into the sheets. When her slick flesh finally accepted him completely, the last shred of rational thought evaporated. The bed creaked violently beneath them, and ragged breathing filled the darkness.
Wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, he looked down at her body rocking in time with his movements. She swayed like a water lily caught in a rough current. He held her delicate frame and drove them both to the edge of desire. Then her body began to tremble with tiny convulsions.
He seized her twisting hips and locked every muscle in his back. A fierce shudder shot up his spine, followed by a violent release deep in his belly. Vision blurring, he closed his eyes.
He did not know how long he stayed like that. When his breathing finally steadied, he slowly pushed himself up and looked at her. Brushing damp hair from her face, he saw her expression blank and dazed, limbs limp and motionless. A chill touched his chest.
He cupped her sweat- and tear-streaked cheeks and anxiously searched her unfocused eyes. “Are you all right?”
She blinked up at him, bewildered. Thankfully there was no sign of pain—only exhaustion from having spent every ounce of strength at once.
Impulsively, he kissed the corner of her eye. Her dazed gaze widened, and a powerful ripple moved through her dilated pupils. Before he could guess the reason, she shoved at his shoulder. Frowning, he looked down. She was scrambling frantically to escape from beneath him. Instinctively he held her in place.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Get off! You’re heavy, I said.”
When her struggles grew fiercer he reluctantly lifted himself. She immediately rolled to the side, groped for her clothes at the foot of the bed, and began pulling them on with frantic hands. Barcas watched in silence, then reached out and drew her back by the waist.
“Lie down a little longer.”
“Why should I?” she snapped, voice still trembling.
“It’s over, isn’t it? I’m going back to my own room now.”
“Who said it was over?”
He pulled her onto his lap and pressed his lips to her heated nape. The sweet scent of her skin sent fresh heat surging through him. “Sleep in my room tonight.”