subjected themselves to it at all.
Had he been in as much pain as she? she pondered, then thought better of it. Nay, he would certainly have withdrawn. He had not, and it seemed he had no intention of doing so.
When she felt his renewed movements and the pain, though less intense, returned, she resumed her struggles. Still he did not release her, apparently determined to make her suffer.
"Shh," he breathed, pressing kisses to her moist face. " Twill not hurt long. There is pleasure at the end of it."
She wanted to believe him, but he offered no evidence that he spoke the truth. As his thrusts deepened, she continued to squirm, thinking she might find a way down from the discomfort this brutal, giant was causing her.
Intent on escape, she did not notice when the pain subsided altogether. She only became aware of the change when the pleasure he had promised arrived—a sweet, drawing ache that grew to a breath-stealing sensation. Full of wonder, she tried to match Iris movements, her attempts awkward yet satisfying.
How was it something so painful had turned enjoyable in so short a time?
Finally, finding the elusive rhythm he set, Graeye joined him, not quite knowing what to expect, but certain there was something beyond this ... that it was not far off. It was building, lifting her ever higher to soar on those gilded wings she aspired to. It bid her find completion.
He gripped her tighter, his large hands molding them into one as his rhythm quickened. Then, as if from afar, she heard his shout and felt his body shudder violently as he gave his liquid heat to her.
And she was plummeting, her own moment of satiation stolen from her.
The man's chest rose and fell heavily, his breath like a wind through her hair as the calm that followed was broken by the tremors of his subsiding passion. Knowing she had missed something important, Graeye leaned away, frowning her question, but he pulled her back to him and pressed her face into the curve of his neck.
"Forgive me," he said. "It has been ... a long time."
Confused, she settled her cheek to his damp skin, warming to the feel of the strong, erratic beat of blood coursing through his veins.
He had certainly exerted himself, she acknowledged. Impulsively, she touched her lips, then the tip of her tongue, to his skin. She liked the taste of him, and unashamedly ventured another.
She did not realize he had moved until he lowered her to the bank, himself atop her. Her back pressed to the moist ground, she watched as he raised himself above her to search her shadowed face.
Immediately, her hand went to the hair covering the mark. To her relief she found it still in place.
The man's raised brows asked the question before his words. "You are not going to tell me who you are?" he said in those deep, resonant tones she found pleasing.
Denying him her voice again, she shook her head. Then, her eyes lighting, she touched a finger to his chest and cocked her head questioningly.
An unexpected lopsided grin transformed his face into one of humor. With a bob of his eyebrows, he shook his head.
'Tis for the better, Graeye assured herself after a bout of disappointment. For the first time since she had set herself this course, she reminded herself of her objective. It would be best if she did not know his identity, for she would never see him again. Still, such cool logic did not stop her from wishing it could be otherwise.
She did not flinch when he cupped her chin in his palm, his thumb drawing lazy circles over her jaw and twice dipping inward to brush her parted lips. Turning her head, she laid her lips to his palm.
"You are real?" he asked. "Or are you a spirit come to distract me from my labors?"
She smiled, offering naught but a lazy shrug.
Mild irritation at her continued obstinance had his brows drawing together, but he refrained from further coaxing.
"You are beautiful, little one," he said, his voice deepening as he lowered himself to her and tucked her head beneath
Had he been in as much pain as she? she pondered, then thought better of it. Nay, he would certainly have withdrawn. He had not, and it seemed he had no intention of doing so.
When she felt his renewed movements and the pain, though less intense, returned, she resumed her struggles. Still he did not release her, apparently determined to make her suffer.
"Shh," he breathed, pressing kisses to her moist face. " Twill not hurt long. There is pleasure at the end of it."
She wanted to believe him, but he offered no evidence that he spoke the truth. As his thrusts deepened, she continued to squirm, thinking she might find a way down from the discomfort this brutal, giant was causing her.
Intent on escape, she did not notice when the pain subsided altogether. She only became aware of the change when the pleasure he had promised arrived—a sweet, drawing ache that grew to a breath-stealing sensation. Full of wonder, she tried to match Iris movements, her attempts awkward yet satisfying.
How was it something so painful had turned enjoyable in so short a time?
Finally, finding the elusive rhythm he set, Graeye joined him, not quite knowing what to expect, but certain there was something beyond this ... that it was not far off. It was building, lifting her ever higher to soar on those gilded wings she aspired to. It bid her find completion.
He gripped her tighter, his large hands molding them into one as his rhythm quickened. Then, as if from afar, she heard his shout and felt his body shudder violently as he gave his liquid heat to her.
And she was plummeting, her own moment of satiation stolen from her.
The man's chest rose and fell heavily, his breath like a wind through her hair as the calm that followed was broken by the tremors of his subsiding passion. Knowing she had missed something important, Graeye leaned away, frowning her question, but he pulled her back to him and pressed her face into the curve of his neck.
"Forgive me," he said. "It has been ... a long time."
Confused, she settled her cheek to his damp skin, warming to the feel of the strong, erratic beat of blood coursing through his veins.
He had certainly exerted himself, she acknowledged. Impulsively, she touched her lips, then the tip of her tongue, to his skin. She liked the taste of him, and unashamedly ventured another.
She did not realize he had moved until he lowered her to the bank, himself atop her. Her back pressed to the moist ground, she watched as he raised himself above her to search her shadowed face.
Immediately, her hand went to the hair covering the mark. To her relief she found it still in place.
The man's raised brows asked the question before his words. "You are not going to tell me who you are?" he said in those deep, resonant tones she found pleasing.
Denying him her voice again, she shook her head. Then, her eyes lighting, she touched a finger to his chest and cocked her head questioningly.
An unexpected lopsided grin transformed his face into one of humor. With a bob of his eyebrows, he shook his head.
'Tis for the better, Graeye assured herself after a bout of disappointment. For the first time since she had set herself this course, she reminded herself of her objective. It would be best if she did not know his identity, for she would never see him again. Still, such cool logic did not stop her from wishing it could be otherwise.
She did not flinch when he cupped her chin in his palm, his thumb drawing lazy circles over her jaw and twice dipping inward to brush her parted lips. Turning her head, she laid her lips to his palm.
"You are real?" he asked. "Or are you a spirit come to distract me from my labors?"
She smiled, offering naught but a lazy shrug.
Mild irritation at her continued obstinance had his brows drawing together, but he refrained from further coaxing.
"You are beautiful, little one," he said, his voice deepening as he lowered himself to her and tucked her head beneath
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