Destin spent the afternoon learning the lay of the land and the security of the palace. He spoke to the Royal Guard in the city, asking about any sighting of Lothair’s men, suggesting doubling the soldiers on the gates, making sure their weapons were all sharp and they had the right armour. He couldn’t be sure what Lothair was planning, and he wanted them to be prepared for every eventuality. When he had spoken to each man on every post, making sure they understood their instructions and were being vigilant, on alert, he was confident Livia was now safe. He didn’t think Lothair would dare attack her here. Lothair wouldn’t risk losing his claim to the imperial seat if anything were to happen to her within the city walls.
But he was disturbed that no one had seen or heard anything from his own contingent of men—were they still in Harzburg? He hoped they had got out, along with the women and children. He wouldn’t be able to settle until he knew they were all right. He didn’t think Livia would ever forgive him if they weren’t.
Trying to keep himself busy, to distract himself from thinking about Livia and how she was getting on with her father, he found a place for the farmer and his wife to stay for the night—it was the least he could do to thank them for all their help.
Then he’d seen a healer who had stitched up his wounds. When he’d felt the tips of those swords slice into him, he’d thought that was it, that his life was over. And with a strange sense of calm, he’d accepted it. He’d been willing to die in Livia’s place. He couldn’t think of anyone more worthy, not even the emperor. When he’d felt the cart move on, and he’d realised he was bleeding, but still alive, he’d felt euphoric. That he was still with her, that they had made it. He had wanted to kiss her again, to hold her tight and never let go. He’d wanted to tell her what she meant to him. And he’d become so aware of their bodies being so close, of her every curve pressed against him, of her every movement, he had felt his groin respond. Skit! Had she felt it? If he hadn’t just saved her life, he didn’t know what she’d think of him, and he’d forced himself to roll off her.
Heading back to the palace for the evening’s feast, he was desperate to see her again, and it had only been a few hours since he’d let her out of his sight. He missed seeing her smile. He missed the camaraderie between them. He even missed her incessant questions. But when he arrived in the great hall, the news of the king’s passing reached him.
Despite knowing that this was going to happen, he wished it wasn’t true. He had found himself needing to sit down as he’d tried to process it. He’d asked Matthias questions, to better understand what had happened, but mainly, he just wanted to know if Livia was all right.
The feast in the hall had been a sombre affair, the bells in the Basilica ringing out over the city. They continued throughout the evening, and when the hour began to grow late, Destin began to worry. He hadn’t seen Livia all afternoon, and he needed to know how she was coping. But no one had seen or heard from her since she’d left the king’s quarters. When he could bear it no longer, he went to the kitchens and piled a plate full of meat and vegetables, asked the servants to show him where her rooms were, and headed up to see her. He knew it didn’t look good, but it was an unsettling time. The palace was in disarray, with everyone in a state of shock and mourning, waiting to be told what would happen next. Perhaps the rules of conduct could be put aside for one night.
A guard was manning the door, and he bowed in respect as Destin came towards him.
‘Have you seen or heard anything from the princess?’
‘Not since she locked herself in here after the king’s passing, Commander.’
Destin nodded. At least he knew she was inside. ‘Very good, soldier. You can take your leave. I will stand guard for a while now.’
He was relieved the man didn’t argue it, but instead nodded and marched away, down the corridor, trusting him implicitly. It seemed word had spread fast that he was the man who had helped the princess escape the siege in Saxony and how he had protected her on the journey here. He had the feeling the farmer and his wife were to thank for that.
He pressed his ear against her door and could hear Livia softly sobbing, and he couldn’t stand for her to be suffering all alone. He wanted to ease her pain. Against his better judgement, telling him to leave the food there and walk away, he placed the plate down and rapped lightly on the door.
He heard her footsteps approach the wood, and she tentatively opened the door, her face pale and streaked with tears. ‘I asked not to be—Oh. It’s you,’ she said, when she saw him.
‘I came to offer my condolences. I’m so sorry to hear about your father...’
She stared up at him, her golden eyes huge and sad, and he dropped the pleasantries. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked her, concerned.
‘No. No, I don’t think I am,’ she said, her lips trembling, her voice cracking. She crumpled before him and he pulled her into his chest, lifting her off the ground and carrying her back inside the room, kicking the door shut behind him.
He walked her over to the bed and sat her down on the edge of it, holding her for a while, stroking her hair as she cried.
‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ he soothed. ‘Your father’s at peace now.’
He studied the surroundings over her shoulder, as he always did when he was somewhere new, taking it all in, assessing it for danger. But he thought it was the most beautiful room he’d ever been in. There was a small window, letting in a cool evening breeze, and soft drapes hung loosely around her bed, floating about. All her belongings were scattered around, just as messy as the room she’d had back in Harzburg, but it felt more opulent somehow. There were trinkets and books all over her desk, and wisps of smoke filled the room, from little sticks that were burning, giving off a scent of lavender and incense.
Eventually, when she’d cried all her tears, Livia pulled away slightly and looked up at him from red, puffy eyes.
‘Sorry,’ she sniffed. ‘I guess this isn’t how I’m meant to be behaving. Was everyone expecting my presence down in the hall, at the evening’s feast?’
‘No,’ he said, inclining his head. ‘He’s your father, you’re allowed to grieve, Livia.’ He pushed her damp hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ears.
‘I’m just not ready to face anyone. Or to address the court. Not yet.’
‘People will understand. Are you hungry? I brought you some food.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I could eat anything... Thank you for getting me here in time to see him, Destin. He was grateful to you.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sure he would have got great comfort from having you with him at the end.’
‘I think he was waiting for me, holding on till I got here...’
‘But you got to speak to him? To say everything you needed to say?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded.
He wanted to ask what they’d spoken about, whether her father had given her any advice about her future, but he also didn’t want to pry.
He didn’t like to see her like this, her shoulders bowed.
‘I can’t believe all my family, the people who knew me best, have gone. My mother, my brothers, now my father...’
‘I know how you feel. I know the feeling of abandonment all too well. It does get easier as the winters pass.’ Only his parents had chosen to leave him, hers hadn’t. ‘But I’m right here,’ he said, taking her hand and squeezing her fingers in his. ‘There are a lot of people who care about you, Livia, take comfort from that.’
‘For how long?’ she whispered. ‘How long will you be here?’
‘As long as you need me. I promise you, even when we get to Constantinople, I’ll be there, watching over you. You’ll be sick of the sight of me,’ he said, trying to make light of it. He would make sure she was safe, even if it killed him seeing her with Alexios every day.
‘Doubtful,’ she said, gripping his fingers back. ‘Will you stay with me now and talk to me for a while? I don’t want to be alone...’
He looked towards the door. ‘I sent the guard away...’
‘Good. Then no one is going to disturb me. They think you’re guarding my door. Please?’
He nodded stiffly, leaning back against the wall, resting against the piled-up furs, bringing his legs up onto the bed, and she curled up into his shoulder, carefully resting her hand on his chest.
‘What will happen now?’
‘That depends... Do you want to be queen?’ he asked.
And she raised her head to look at him. ‘No one has ever asked me that before. Isn’t it just expected that I do? It wasn’t ever something I had to think about growing up, as Otto was always next in line. When that changed, it was there, at the back of my mind that this could one day happen. But the thoughts of my impending marriage overshadowed it somehow. I guess I didn’t ever think anyone would allow a woman to take the throne.’
He shrugged. ‘If you don’t want the position, then you can abdicate and your uncle will probably be successful in his claim.’ She settled back down, resting her cheek on his chest. ‘But if you do...while you are the rightful heir to the throne, Livia, I believe there will be an election. You and Lothair will both be asked to petition the Electoral College, usually in Frankfurt, on why you should be the next ruler, and then they will decide.’
‘Will I have to see my uncle?’
‘Yes, but remember the whole court will be there. I’ll be there. You’ll be safe... He can’t hurt you now.’
She ran her hand over his waist, over where he’d been stabbed, and he felt his muscles tense. ‘Or you... I owe it to my father to try. I don’t know how they can even consider Lothair being ruler, after the things he’s done.’
‘He is a man with a legitimate claim... The rest is only hearsay. Our word against his. There is no proof, unless we send people to Harzburg to check the damage.’
‘If he is successful, what happens to me then? Will Alexios still want to marry me?’
His heart clenched. ‘Your engagement is set in stone. The emperor agreed to marry you when your brother was next in line to the throne, I doubt your uncle being king would change anything... There may be some terms to negotiate.’
‘And if I am crowned queen?’
‘Then you and Alexios will be rulers of not one but two great empires...’
‘But you don’t think that will happen?’ she said.
‘I never said that. I think the more allies you have, the more people who support your claim, the more chance you have of being successful. Those who knew your father may be rooting for you. They may dislike his brother. Especially if word has reached them of what he’s done this past week.’
‘Families are so complicated.’ She sighed. ‘Sometimes I wish I’d been born into a normal one, like Charles and Marta, and I’d been brought up on a farm and had a simple life.’
He nodded.
‘How is it you came to be raised by strangers? Will you tell me about it?’ she asked, changing the subject, looking up at him.
His lips twisted. ‘I don’t like to talk about it.’
‘Please? It comforts me to hear your voice, to learn of your past. I want to know more about you, Destin. And it will distract me from thinking about my father.’
He sighed. ‘I’m afraid there’s not much comfort in this tale, Livia. Where I come from, in Norway, settlements removed the sick if they didn’t think they’d be able to contribute to the village, or if it was thought they’d bring shame upon the family. I believe, because I was born how I was, my parents thought they had to abandon me to keep the others in their settlement strong. Growing up, I would have been expected to work and to fight and they no doubt took one look at me and deemed I wouldn’t be able to...so they put me out to die.’
She gasped, pulling away from him a little to look into his eyes. ‘Just because of your arm? How could they do that?’ she said, outraged.
He shrugged. ‘It’s how things are back there. I told you, it’s a warrior culture.’
‘But it’s so...so cold. So wrong.’
And he smiled at how she was so defensive of him. ‘I don’t blame them. I don’t feel any ill will towards them. Or try not to anyway. They probably thought they were being merciful.’
She shook her head, before lying back down on his chest, her hand curling over his stomach, and he wrapped his arm tighter around her. ‘How can you be so understanding, so forgiving?’
‘Because I believe they thought they were doing it to be kind. And the couple who found me in the woods, Áki and Gerdur, became my family. It was all I knew. They were good people. They told me I struggled to crawl, but I don’t remember that.’ He shrugged. ‘And it took me longer than most to learn how to do things. So I don’t look back and think my parents were evil. I like to think of it as though they were trying to save me from living a life of shame.’
‘And has it been, a life of shame?’
‘For many years, yes,’ he admitted. ‘You’ve seen what it’s like. Every day I have to explain myself...why I am like I am... You saw how that monk looked at me at dinner that night. How your people looked at me in your hall... You must have heard the whispers. And the soldiers today. People are curious, they always have questions. They want to know why I’m different.’
‘But they can see it doesn’t hold you back.’
‘No, it doesn’t. I know that. I hope I have more than proved my worth to myself and the emperor and my men.’
‘And to me.’
He smiled into her hair, breathing in the familiar floral scent of her. ‘But it isn’t a life I would want to subject others to. It’s a constant battle to prove myself.’
‘Not having you in their life must have been a great loss to your parents, Destin. And the fault for your abandonment lies with them, not you and how you are. If only they could see you now... Are you not tempted to seek them out, to show them the type of man you have become?’
He shook his head. ‘Norway is a big place. I wouldn’t know where to start. Besides, I’m not sure how I’d feel if I found my family now.’ He shifted beneath her. ‘Anyway, I came in here to see how you were, not to talk about me...’
‘I like talking about you,’ she said, turning herself round in his arms to lie on her front, her hand splayed out on his chest, and his fingers curled around her upper arm. She lifted her head to look up at him. His dark eyes were focused on her and he wondered how they had got here. How they had grown so close in just a week, so that he felt comfortable sharing his deeper thoughts. He welcomed her questions now, and didn’t hold back from answering. But her touch? He really should be going...
‘Did you get your wounds seen to?’ Livia asked.
‘Yes. All good,’ he said.
She narrowed her eyes on him. ‘Did they need stitching?’
‘Only the one.’
‘Show me?’
‘Don’t trust me?’ he asked, grinning, and when she gave him a look he sighed, and tugged up his tunic, revealing the wound to the side of his stomach. It looked a lot better than it did before.
She nodded, satisfied. ‘Who did it for you?’
A healer at the hospice in the centre of the city.’
‘A woman?’
He raised his eyebrows, amused. ‘I didn’t really have a choice in who did it.’
Her lips twisted. She didn’t like the thought of another woman touching his body, soothing his wounds, making him feel better.
‘I still can’t believe you did that,’ she whispered. ‘That you were prepared to sacrifice yourself for me.’
Livia’s fingers strayed to the bruising around his wound, tracing it lightly with her fingers. She flattened her hand against his skin, sliding it up beneath his tunic, over his bare chest. She wanted to touch where she could feel his heart pounding.
‘Livia,’ he said sternly.
But she didn’t want to heed his warning. Her hand moved up, under his other arm, strapped across him, and settled over the solid warmth of his chest muscle, and she felt his nipple harden beneath her palm. Unable to help herself, she reached up and placed a soft kiss on his mouth.
He tensed and pulled back, his hand tightening around her arm.
‘Livia. We said we weren’t going to do this again. You said just the once...’
‘I know. I’ve changed my mind,’ she whispered.
‘I should leave you,’ he said, attempting to sit up.
‘Don’t go...’ she said, increasing the pressure on his chest. She clung to him, needing to keep him close. ‘If my father’s death has taught me anything, it’s that life’s too short. You should make the most of it. Be with the people you care about, before it’s too late... And I care about you.’
‘Livia, you know that we can’t.’ His voice sounded strange. Strangled.
‘Why can’t we? We’re not hurting anyone. I’m not married yet... Alexios and I don’t even know each other. Are you saying the emperor has never been with a woman? Never kissed anyone before? I’m not going to judge him for it.’
‘That’s different and you know it,’ Destin said, trying to remove her hand from under his tunic, but she wasn’t budging, resisting him.
‘Why is it?’
‘It just is!’ he said, sitting up and gently pushing her away, finally working her hand free. ‘If he knew about this, he would have me killed, and you...well, I don’t know what he’d do to you,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘I thought you said he was kind,’ she retorted, her lips pouting as she tucked her legs beneath her.
‘He’s also ruthless. He has to be. And every man has their limits. This is a matter of honour...’
‘You’ve already kissed me once. What does it matter if you do it again?’
He dragged his hand over his face as if tortured by the reminder, or the temptation she was putting before him. ‘What do you want from me?’ he said, shaking his head. ‘What do you see in me?’ he whispered.
‘Everything...’
She sat up on her knees, reached out and curled her hand around his neck, drawing his head towards her. Her stomach fluttered, her heart hammered, and she knew, as her mouth covered his, he was past resisting. His lips were firm as they met hers, and she opened her mouth, inviting him inside, wanting him to caress her tongue with his again, as he’d done the other day. When he did, her hands slid wildly into his hair, drawing him closer, needing to breathe him in. This was what she wanted. To be in his arms again, his mouth on hers, soothing her, to feel close to him and forget all else.
She pressed herself against him, pushing him backwards on the bed, so they were lying chest to chest, her knee curled over his thigh, and their mouths clung together, testing, exploring, letting the kiss go on and on. She could feel the hectic thud of his heart beating and it reassured her, that she wasn’t alone in how she was feeling.
Her hand crept beneath his tunic again, and her fingers splayed out over his skin, up to his right shoulder. ‘Can you feel that?’ she whispered, wondering where the sensations stopped for him.
He covered her hand, moving it down to the middle of his chest. ‘Now I can.’
His other arm was in the way and she nodded to the sling. ‘Can I take that off?’
‘Livia,’ he said, almost hesitant, uncertain.
But she ignored the warning in his tone and reached for the strap around his neck, lifting it up over his head, before pulling the splint away. He eyed her warily, but she continued. She carefully moved his arm to his side, so there was no barrier between them.
‘Are these all battle wounds?’ she asked, holding her palm against his cheek, smoothing her thumb over the silvery scars. He was so close, she could see the tiny brown flecks in his dark eyes, and she wondered how she could have ever thought they were brittle and hard. There was warmth and passion behind them.
‘All from fighting, as a child and a man.’
‘They fascinate me. You fascinate me.’
He covered her hand with his and kissed her again, his beard softly grazing her skin.
She moved her hand back to his chest, running her hands beneath the material again. ‘And these. All injuries from fighting too?’
‘Yes,’ he said, his dark gaze on her, watching her face as she traced her fingertips over the ridges and lines of his skin.
‘Did they hurt?’
‘Some. Although not having any feeling in some parts of your body can be an advantage if you’re injured there.’
She bent her head to press her lips against the skin at the base of his throat, and lower, wherever she could see his burnished skin, savouring the spicy taste and fresh pine scent of him. Flattening her lower body against his, she became aware of other parts of him that were definitely working. She gasped in surprise, pleased to have caused the same reaction as she’d felt in the cart, feeling a reciprocal excitement between her legs, and he tried to push her away but she resisted, kissing him on the mouth again.
‘Livia,’ he said, tearing his lips away. ‘We must stop. I’m in danger of losing control with you and I mustn’t. I won’t let you compromise your position. You can’t put your reputation, your marriage and throne in jeopardy... Not for me.’
But didn’t he realise his words only made her like him even more?
‘We’re just kissing,’ she whispered, placing little kisses up his throat, coming back to his mouth again, and he groaned. And yet she was aware of her body reacting with force, liquid heat pooling between her legs. She was feeling the increasing need, the desire for him to touch her right there, and she recklessly pressed her belly against him, cradling the hard ridge of him, and he tightened his grip on her waist.
‘What are you trying to do to me?’ he groaned.
She gave a little wiggle as her answer.
He growled and rolled her gently onto her back, lying on his weaker side, and his hot mouth left her lips to trail down to her chin and along her jaw, and she lifted her head, wanting, willing him to move his mouth lower. When he didn’t, she gripped his hand and brought it up to place it over one swollen breast, flattening his palm against her.
She thought he was about to resist once more, to continue to fight his feelings and her needs, and she prepared herself to have to hold him in place, but then his thumb grazed over her nipple, teasing it into a hard peak beneath the material of her tunic, and the movement felt so good, she whimpered. She wanted to get closer. She wanted him to peel off her clothes and press his mouth to where his thumb was gently stroking her.
Her fingers stole between their bodies and beneath the bottom of his tunic, roaming up over his muscled torso, bunching up the material, and he reached down to help her, lifting it over his good arm and his head, before pulling it off his other side. He looked at her, wary, as if he expected her to recoil, but she stared at him in awe. His left side was less muscled, yet he was still magnificent. She pressed her mouth to his bare chest, over his ink.
‘What is all this?’ she whispered, tracing the dark, swirling lines with her fingers.
‘In Norway, we dye our skin with symbols. They all mean certain things to me.’
‘Will you tell me about them?’ she asked, her eyes raking over them.
He pointed to some of the sharp, angular shapes. One was an arrow, pointing upwards. ‘It means Tyr.’
‘The god we were talking about the other day?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the other?’ It looked like a tall fork. ‘It means man. Áki did them for me.’
‘I’ll tell you more about him sometime. He was a father to me in every sense of the word. He saved me.’
His statement settled, bringing home just how close he had come to not surviving as a child. To not being here with her now. That was unthinkable.
She wondered at the impact that knowledge, that his parents had left him out in the cold, helpless, to die, would have had on him growing up. That the very people who were meant to love him, unconditionally, hadn’t wanted him because they’d thought he was less able, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.
She had the flash of a thought that her father had treated her mother that way. That he had put her out to die, during childbirth, choosing to save the child over her. But it had been an impossible choice...yet one that had haunted her nonetheless.
No wonder Destin thought he was unlovable. No wonder he’d had to fight for praise and recognition.
‘Perhaps Áki and I think along the same lines...’ she said. ‘That you and Tyr have a lot in common.’
He kissed her again, harder, more passionately than before, and she began to fumble with her brooches on her kirtle, her fingers trembling with nerves and need. ‘Will you help me take this off?’ she whispered. And suddenly he pulled back, disturbed. He stilled, placing his hand over her trembling fingers.
‘Livia, we need to stop now,’ he said seriously.
No! She didn’t want to stop. She wasn’t ready for this to be over. She wanted more... She wanted him to make her his, if only for the night.
‘Many a person has seen me naked in battle or bathing...but you...your body should only be seen by your husband. And that’s not me,’ he said, his voice hardening, as if he’d decided for the both of them enough was enough. ‘It wouldn’t be right. It’s not my right...’
‘But I want to do this. With you,’ she said.
He shut his eyes momentarily, as if he was in pain. ‘I won’t like myself very much if we go any further. And neither will you.’
She sighed heavily, feeling hopeless for their situation. She wanted him, she cared for him, and yet she couldn’t have him. ‘I don’t like you very much for stopping me.’
He raised an eyebrow, making her smile.
‘Look, you’ve been through a lot today. Your feelings must be in turmoil. I won’t take advantage of you when you’re at your most vulnerable. I think you need to get some sleep now. You must be exhausted, after our journey, after everything that’s happened.’
‘What if I don’t feel this way about the emperor?’ she blurted.
Any hint of a smile disappeared from his face. ‘I’m sure you will grow to care about him.’
‘And if I don’t? What if I never feel like this again? What if he touches me and I feel nothing?’
‘He should be gentle with you, take care of your feelings,’ he said, though his voice sounded tight, as if he was forcing the words through his lips. He shook his head, as if to shake away the thoughts. He went to move away from her and she hated the distance between them.
‘Please. Don’t go. Will you stay with me? Just hold me until I fall asleep?’ She felt safe, stronger, whole, when he was with her.
For a moment, he looked conflicted, and then he relented. ‘Yes, if that’s what you want.’
‘Promise you won’t leave me?’
‘I promise, Livia.’
Destin lay there awake, Livia curled into the side of his body, her head resting on his bare chest. She had slept half the night, muttering things in her sleep, and he’d stroked her hair, soothing her. He knew he should get up and leave before the sun rose, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to move. He didn’t want to be parted from her. Not yet.
He shouldn’t be here, and yet, she had chosen him over anyone else to comfort her in her time of need. So how could he not? It made him feel wanted, special, for the first time in his life. Surely it was worth the risk?
A breeze drifted through the window and she shivered. Stirring, she pressed herself closer to him, curling her hand into his chest, and he held his breath. He reached over to grip the edge of the blanket and pull it up her body, to keep her warm, and she sleepily took it from him, tugging it, helping him to cover them both. And then she surprised him by bringing it up over their heads, descending them into darkness and stretching up, her body coming down on top of him, and she planted a kiss firmly on his mouth.
‘Now you can deny ever seeing me,’ she whispered.
He was hard in an instant. ‘Livia, what the—’
‘Shh,’ she hushed him.
He had never wanted anyone or anything so much in his life. And by the way her hands were moving over his jaw, over his chest and down, neither had she. She was persistent, he’d give her that! And the moment her fingers curved over the straining, hard ridge of him, touching him through the material of his breeches, he was gone. There was no going back.
He hauled her closer to him, his lips on hers, his hand on her back, roaming down over her buttocks, pressing his thigh between her legs, and she whimpered.
He began rucking up her dress, wanting to touch her in return, and his fingers gathered up the skirts of her stola, trembling as they trailed up the back of her bare legs, over her smooth thighs, until they curved over one round buttock and gently squeezed.
He was aware of his heart thudding erratically as she flicked her tongue against his in a hot, open-mouthed kiss and he lost all restraint. His fingers slipped lower. When the tips reached her slick, silky flesh, she gasped, and he stilled. ‘Do you want me to stop?’ he rasped.
‘No,’ she said, her forehead resting against his, their frantic breath mingling. ‘Don’t stop.’ And as if to prove it, she moved against the curve of his hand, impatient, encouraging him on.
He rolled her over onto her side, his hand coming round the front of her for better access, and he pushed her bunched up skirts out of the way, his large hand smoothing over her stomach. He swallowed, nervous, now he’d decided to do this. Moving lower, he stared down into her eyes as his fingers stole through her delicate curls, making her body shudder. Her hand curled around his neck, drawing him closer, and she restlessly parted her mouth—and her thighs—as his fingers stole lower, to where he knew she wanted him to touch her, and when he did, softly seeking her most sensitive parts, she moaned. She was soaking wet, and she writhed beneath him, her cheeks flushing. He touched her slowly, gently. ‘Is that all right, like this?’ he asked, ready to take any instruction she gave him, seeking her approval.
‘Yes,’ she choked, her breathing quickening. He grazed his knuckles along her crease, opening her up, before flattening his fingers back against her, learning the feel of her body. He found her tiny nub and circled it with the tip of his finger, and she groaned again as if in disbelief, pulling his head down to kiss her again and again.
Lips clinging, tongues swirling, forehead to forehead, he moved his finger lower, pressing it gently inside her tight, silky entrance, before drawing it out with a fresh rush of moisture and swirling it back over her little bud. Her muscles began to tense and he knew she was close, and he was desperate to give her the release she so obviously craved. He pushed his finger back inside her once more and she cried out into his mouth, clasping his hand between her thighs as her body shuddered through her climax, and he kissed her, holding her close until she settled.