Page 79 of Consort's Glory
Margot sighed, content, as he stroked her with the backs of his claws, gentling her until she was little more than loose limbs and tumbled hair. When he glanced up at her, he found her head turned toward him but her eyes closed, her copper lashes two crescents against the swells of her flushed cheekbones.
So beautiful you make me ache, he told her, pressing his tongue flat against her clitoris in a firm, reverent stroke.
Her voice was almost drowsy with pleasure when she replied, “When I saw you for the first time, I thought you were too handsome to be real. I wanted to… I wanted to kiss you in the car. Even though I shouldn’t have, I wanted to.”
Theodore rewarded her confession with the fullness of his eager fingers, stroking and thrusting deep, seeking out every noise and shudder that told him he was on the right track.
You would have run if I kissed you then.
“Yes.” The one word was a breath moan. Her hips rolled in a lazy rhythm with his fingers and his mouth. “But I wanted to.”
You want me.
“Yes, Theodore.”
He sucked hard as he pumped his fingers, his eyes on the way her eyebrows bunched, how her spine bowed with each stroke. Then come for me, darling. You have me. You’ll always have me.
Margot’s hands dug into his hair, her favorite hand-hold, apparently, as her thighs contracted around his ears. He felt her orgasm as it raced through her. Her walls clenched hard around his fingers, but he didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop kissing her, until she slumped, boneless, into the cot.
Out of breath and exhausted himself, Theodore extracted himself from between her legs to drape himself over her. He didn’t exactly fit on the dinky little cot, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to care. True contentment meant cocooning her in his arms, shielding her from the outside with his greater weight and size. When he had her safely beneath him, surrounded by him, he could finally relax.
Theodore buried his nose in her hair and let out a long sigh. It rattled his vocal cords on the way out — creating a deep, sonorous purr.
“I like that sound you make,” she whispered. Margot curled her fingers into his rumpled shirt, the tip of her cold little nose rubbing against the corner of his stubbled jaw. “It’s really relaxing.”
“S’posed to be.” He kept his weight off of her with his elbows, but that didn’t stop him from slipping a forearm under her shoulders to draw her even closer. “We purr to let other elves know we’re not a threat. Elvish parents purr for their kids. Consorts purr for each other. It’s a sign of affection.”
He felt the slight stiffening of her body under his. “Does it bother you that I’ve never purred?”
“Bother me?” Theodore nuzzled the crown of her head. “No, darling. Why would it? I never expected you to. You’re not an elf.”
Margot went rigid. “Would you prefer it if I was?”
What is this now? Theodore raised himself up just enough to peer down at her. “No,” he firmly answered. “No, I would not prefer it. I want you exactly as you are.”
She looked up at him warily, some of the golden glow of pleasure lost to her doubt. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He pressed a hard kiss to her temple. “I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you being exactly as you are, Margot Goode. Don’t change a damn thing.”
Margot stroked his chest through his shirt, a plaintive, apologetic sort of caress. “I hope you remember that later,” she whispered, “when things get tough. I don’t want you to feel like I’ve tricked you, or…”
“Never.” Theodore squeezed her close. He luxuriated in her scent, in her warmth, in her trust, and knew that nothing would ever change his mind about her. No matter what happened, they were one.
