Page 97 of An Ill-Made Match

“I’m not crying, all is well,” she assured him, and to her surprise, found it was. She looked back up to find him watching her in pained enquiry, sweat beading on his forehead. “You can move now,” she said.

He grabbed her knee and pushed it out to the side, pinning her open to him as he withdrew and then thrust again. “Gods, I’m never leaving you again,” he groaned.

“What do you mean?” asked Eden, bracing a hand against the headboard.

“Taking you with me.” He planted his other hand against the mattress, in an attempt not to crush her with his ardor.

“T-to the tournaments?” stammered Eden, who was finding it hard to follow the conversation whilst his hard body jostled against hers.

“Everywhere.”

Eden opened and closed her mouth. It would probably be as well to put an end to the conversation she thought. They could always return to it at some later point. “Very well,” she said, “Husband.”

His head snapped up and he locked eyes with her. They both gasped, when part of him seemed to swell further still, inside her.

“Eden,” he whispered, dropping his head down onto her breast. Everything inside her, where he was sheathed was fluttering. “Say it, again,“ he whispered.

“What?” she asked, confused at the odd sensation.

“Call me husband. Say my name.” He rocked his hips, making her gasp this time. “Do it, Eden.”

She licked her lips. “Roland,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he grunted, rocking hard against her.

“Husband.” It came out like a whine this time. Why was that?

“Fuck,” he spoke the expletive so clearly, her eyes flew wide. “Are you-?” His eyes were boring into hers. “Eden?”

What? Eden, turned her face away in confusion. It couldn’t possibly feel good, could it? “I-I’m not sure-” she gasped again. It wasn’t a good idea to try talking, when everything felt so strange. She tightened her grasp on Roland’s shoulders and felt his deep murmur of appreciation vibrate right the way through her. Suddenly she couldn’t get close enough to his big body. Her legs wrapped around his hips, she could feel herself tighten around his man-root so tight that she felt alarmed. She arched up into him, straining, reaching for she knew not what, but suddenly desperate to achieve it.

“Oh gods,” Roland groaned. “Yes, like that, sweeting.” He thrust into her and Eden yelped, but from pleasure this time, not pain. She gripped onto him so tight, she was sure he would object. Instead, he just flexed his body against hers harder. “Finally,” he breathed. “I knew... Gods I just knew you’d be like this.”

“Oh! Oh Roland!”

“Tell me,“ he ground out. “Now.”

“I-I hardly know!” she gasped. “It feels so… inside me,” she babbled.

“Good? Tell me it feels good to you, Eden.”

“You feel so… good.”

“Yes,” he gritted out. “Yes. Every time now, I’m going to make sure you feel good like this. As good as you feel to me.”

Really? She made him feel that good? Running her hands over his bunched and flexing muscles, she could feel his strength and resolve as his body labored above hers. She felt bold and daring, like she could not get enough of touching his warm skin.

“Yes!” she whimpered, sinking her fingers into his shoulders and arching up into him. “Please Roland!”

She watched his eyes smolder. “What else?” he demanded.

Eden gazed up at him helplessly. She wrapped her legs around his back, clutching him tighter to her. Why wasn’t he moving like she needed him to?

“Eden? What else am I to you?”

She refocused on his tense expression. What was he to her? She cast about wildly. “H-husband?” she ventured.

A look of vast satisfaction spread over his face. “That’s right.” He rewarded her with a few hard strokes that had her keening against his shoulder. When his pace slackened, threatening to stop again, a frustrated Eden dragged her hands down his back to his buttocks and gripped him tight.