Page 21 of An Enchanted Knight

Not looking away from his face, she reached between them and took him in hand. “Then take me.”

Sinking into her, they both let out a loud sigh of relief. The joining of their bodies was like nothing he’d experienced. He lost control completely and allowed his body to take over, moving in and out of her in the fast rhythm of need and urgency that overrode any thought or command.

She screamed his name and began to move with him. Meeting him thrust for thrust, as if she too felt the urgent need for them to come together.

On and on, the pace continued until sweat dripped from him, and still he could not slow. As a wave of ecstasy crested, another swelled and they both clung to each other, the sounds of her moans echoing in his ears.

Finally, he peaked, sensations slamming so hard he moaned deep in his throat as his release made him shudder. Her sex constricted around him, milking him for all he could give, as she crested yet again.

Chapter Thirteen

Mind-blowing sex just happened.

She’d heard the term used many a time, but now, this very day, she could confirm that it really existed. And furthermore, she could confirm that if Tristan McRainey was indeed a ghost, he had to be the heaviest one ever. He sprawled over her where he’d collapsed after coming for what seemed like the third time.

His weight didn’t bother her, actually she found it comforting. Gwen swept his hair away from the side of his face and kissed him just below his jaw line. He barely budged, his only response a soft grunt.

She’d had a one-night stand once, with a guy she’d picked up at a hotel bar, but for the most part, she was a get-to-know-them-first kind of girl. And sleeping with someone connected to her job… well, she’d never done that.

This was a first on so many levels. Tristan was job-related, an older man. Way older. And he was also supposed to be a ghost. Not to mention that she had plans with his great-great-great-who-knows-how-many-greats-nephew that evening.

Gwen closed her eyes, running her hands down his broad back. The man’s body was totally amazing.

“Oh God,” she groaned, hugging Tristan to her. He felt too good to let go. “What are you?”

Tristan rolled off to the side taking her with him, since she refused to release him. She wiggled yet closer to him. He tipped her face up to him. “I’m a man. I think I’ve just proved it to ye, lass.”

She would have rolled her eyes at his look of satisfaction, if it weren’t for the fact that he not only proved it, but he’d gone way above and beyond the call of proving it.

“Yes, you did,” Gwen replied, not sure what else to say. “Tristan, I am not sure why what just happened happened, but I’m here to do a job. My purpose is to find out how to free you. I am positive that having sex with you was not the best idea.”

His lips curved into a smile and Gwen bit her lip to keep from kissing him. So unfair for him to be so tempting. She had to get her head out of the clouds and help him. Otherwise, he’d be trapped forever.

Thoughtful, he lowered his gaze and pressed his lips together. “I hope I have not offended ye by this, Gwyneth. It was not my intention, to be with ye. At least not right away. I will not deny, I wanted ye from the first moment I saw ye.”

She immediately felt bad for making the comments. After all, she was the one who’d initiated things. “No, of course not. Tristan, I don’t regret any part of what just happened. It was amazing. It was beautiful, being with you. It’s just that, what is most important is freeing you, and we’re wasting valuable time.”

Nodding, he relaxed and smiled. He kissed her again, and instantly calmness engulfed her, like a tidal wave of cool water over a parched desert—she wanted to soak it all in. Somehow she found the strength to pull away.

She got off the bed, grabbed up her discarded sweatpants and tugged them on, then began to yank on a t-shirt. “I’m going to run downstairs to speak to Edith and tell her that I will be working with you for a bit. I’m coming right back.” She wanted to cry at the picture that lay before her. Tristan listening intently, his handsome face solemn, completely nude, lying on his side watching her. It took the strength of Samson not to jump back into bed with him.

“And, please for the love of all that’s holy, get dressed, or I can promise you, we won’t get any work done.”

She backed away toward the door. “Don’t leave.” Then she turned and rushed from the room.

When Gwen got to the first floor, she almost collided with Edith.

“Goodness child, are you alright?” Edith seemed to be taking in her appearance. “You must have gotten caught in the rain. Perhaps you should take a hot shower.”

Gwen caught sight of her appearance in the mirror. Her shirt was on inside out, her hair was a tangled mess, and her face flushed.

“Yes, I will. I will take a shower, but I just saw the ghost... er, I mean Tristan McRainey. He’s upstairs,” She blabbered, pointing to the ceiling. “I am going to get as much information as I can, so please don’t be surprised if I don’t come down for dinner. Please give my apologies to Derrick.” She flew back up the stairs without waiting for a response from Edith, who smiled the entire time she explained.

When Gwen returned to the bedroom, she hesitated before opening the door. She leaned in to listen, but there were no sounds from inside. Hopefully Tristan was dressed and not still lying about, an open temptation to do more than just get information from him.

The sight of him fully dressed looking intently out of the window didn’t calm her lust any, the setting sun providing just enough light to give him a staged setting. He looked down towards the courtyard, brow furrowed, seeming to be in deep thought. His gaze flickered to her, and he nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t speak.

“Why do you always stand at the windows? Can you not go outside?”