Page 109 of Consort's Glory
“Ah!” Margot lurched forward as he buried himself to the hilt, her muscles locked around him in a vice of liquid fire.
I can’t take this. There was no way. Nothing, in all his life, could compare to this brutal pleasure. He’d branded himself for her, wore their marriage sigil proudly, but this — this was a mark on his soul, a searing brand that would be at the forefront of his mind always.
“Theodore, please.” Her voice was a raw plea.
Theodore forced himself to hold still, fighting the battering instinct to move, to alleviate the throbbing ache and painful pressure, as Margot gasped for air beneath him. Dragging one arm around, he clasped her throat, just like she said she wanted, and slid his lips over her cheek, her ear, her jaw.
“You’re so beautiful.” He pressed himself closer, nearly flattening her into the mattress, and felt her clench around him. Panting, he continued, “You are perfect. More than I could have ever dreamed of. This is— this is everything, Margot. Everything.”
He felt the hard press of her blunted claws in his thigh a moment before she rolled her hips forward and back, barely moving in the tiny space he allowed her but enough to make them both lose their breath.
Theodore tentatively moved his hips, almost afraid of the intensity of the friction, of that liquid rippling of hot muscle around him.
Pleasure speared through him. The hand around her throat spasmed. The need to move, to let go, was a thunderous drum beat in his head.
“Margot,” he choked out, “are you—”
I can’t speak. Her inner voice was bright, a flash of pure heat through his mind. It’s too much.
Dread trickled down his spine. Do you need me to stop?
No! Margot’s fingers clawed at his thigh. No. I need you to move.
I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t.
She shook her head. It doesn’t hurt much any more — and it was good. I told you it was good. I liked it. He felt her hips move, rolling slightly like she was testing the fit. I want…
Theodore closed his teeth around the side of her neck, knowing instinctively that she would freeze, her instinct working in concert with his. It was the ultimate sign of trust, the most intimate position: Locked together, fangs pressing against paper-thin skin of a partner’s jugular, holding life and pleasure in one embrace.
Do you want me to fuck you?He was painfully aware of how desperate he sounded.
It seemed impossible, but she somehow went softer beneath him, her body loose and open, begging him to do anything he wanted to her, trusting him to take care of everything she needed. Margot’s pulse pounded against his tongue. She arched her neck, giving him more access, giving him that most primal trust.
Yes!
That was all he needed to hear.
Gripping her throat — carefully — and using his free hand to hold her hips still, Theodore let go of everything except that huge, pulsing instinct, the beast that knew exactly what to do.
His undone belt rattled with a musical tinkling sound as he snapped his hips forward and back, trying to find the angle and depth that would make her cry out. He knew now that Margot wasn’t a particularly vocal lover, but when he did things just right, she made a precious, sexy little whine that filled him with pure satisfaction.
Seeking that sound, knowing that he wouldn’t have long before he lost control completely, Theodore followed his instincts. Pausing long enough to haul her up, he knelt with her in his lap, one arm a band across her breasts as his claws cupped her delicate jaw.
Margot scrambled to hold on. Her hands clutched his arm as he drove into her. He couldn’t move freely in this position, but he could go deep, and that, he discovered, was what she needed.
Her hips moved erratically against his, her thoughts a broken cascade of begging and appreciation in his mind. In this moment, all of her pitiful telepathic walls slid away, leaving her stripped bare before him, able to witness firsthand how badly she wanted him, how good he felt inside her.
Theodore knew immediately when he hit the right place inside her. He knew how much she loved the overwhelming stretch of him. He knew that the feeling of his gloved hand on her throat, his heavy arm across her chest, made her feel safe on the deepest level. He knew she never, ever wanted to do this with anyone but him.
It was too much. It would have been too much for anyone, let alone a man who had eschewed the usual elvish practice of losing his virginity when he came of age at thirty.
Her gasps, the sounds of their bodies meeting, the scent of her in his lungs, the bright streak of her pleasure in his mind — it threw him over the edge with a choked exclamation.
Pleasure exploded across every nerve, his hips moving on their own. Theodore’s ears rang as that tight band of tension at the base of his spine snapped. He barely felt Margot take his hand from her hip to stroke herself, her heat gliding against the smooth leather of his gloves. He did feel it when she came around him, though. The rhythmic clenching of her inner walls drew another round of brutal release from him, his hips jerking hard as she tossed her head back onto his shoulder.
For several long, breathless moments, they simply sat there, their hard exhalations and pounding heartbeats the only sounds in the bedroom.
Theodore clutched her close and sagged, his muscles turned to mush, to bury his face in her hair. Aftershocks of pleasure continued to ripple up and down his spine. Every time she moved — even twitched — he could feel it. What's more, he could feel her feel it. The pleasure was almost too much for both of them, but neither were willing to move.
