Page 42 of Lord of the Hollow Court
“Then lie down, little fox,” he said softly, almost breathlessly, “and I’ll show you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Silver and Gold
It was a peculiar sensation at first. One that was a bit too uncomfortable, as though she were about to be split. His fingers had been gentle, but this? Just when she was sure she could not bear it, her body relaxed around the heat of him, that curious, iron-hard part of him she had no name for. That part of him that made her hips rise, her neck tilt back as bursts of pleasure lit through her body, seizing her and prying the voice from her throat until, all at once, it gave it back in a cry.
What is this?she both wondered and marveled. She began to question every pretty poem she’d ever read on love, the flowery language she’d always thought silly. She’d wager anything it was all an attempt to describe this indescribable act, to put the strange and requisite into words.
But Lord Braam did more than make her long to write a poem about him. Once she’d assured him she was comfortable, her lord husband began to thrust into her slowly, at first, and then mercilessly, until she felt she lost all control of herself, even as his hands touched her tenderly, ran into her curled hair, traced the lines of her neck. The swell of his chest, the flexing of his muscles as he destroyed all her composure and then pieced her back together with something unknown but thrilling—what a man she’d married.
“Am I being gentle enough?” he asked, his voice strained as he obliterated all her notions of bodies, of propriety, of sense.
“Yes,” she breathed, then, “I don’t know.” She turned her head, gasping for a moment, unable to hold a coherent thought. He ruled her body in a way she had not thought possible, that she did and didn’t want to end. It was the most perfect agony, was too much and not enough. What would happen if he pushed into her body more fiercely? Or if he touched her here, or kissed her everywhere?
Moments later, she found out. It was as if he knew her mind, could read every reaction, every hitch in her breath as he found a new way to drive her toward this delicious madness. Every time he touched her in a place that felt just right, he knew it immediately, ceasing just before it drove her to some fearsome edge. What would happen when she reached it? She did not know—but she longed to. She longed to learn about everything he did, to be the beneficiary of all his knowledge. Yet he was in no hurry. She grasped the back of his neck, the heat of him filling her with more delight.
“What do you want?” he asked her again, tongue flickering over her ear. She gasped.
“Don’t stop,” she heard herself beg.
As he touched her below, a shudder ran through her body. His fingers worked her flesh alongside his thrusts, knowing how to whip those vibrant tingles she felt into a fury and unravel her completely. She could not stop herself as her body squeezed around his firmness. She threw her head back, crying out as he pushed harder, faster into her body. How much more of this could she take?
“Like this?” he asked her, a half smile touching his lips.
But she was beyond answering. The world shuttered and brightened and she fell back like a rag doll, even as her hips rose again. What was hedoingto her? His body pulsed against hers as her fingers trailed through the dewy grass, the shadows lengthening, crows cawing in the distance. Her body quivered as those conquering sensations returned, vicious and delightful. He palmed her breast in time with his rhythms, and she began to unravel all over again.
She wanted more, heard herself beg again for it. He obliged, the knot of his throat bobbing, muscles straining until his own breaths were as shallow as hers, his body hammering into hers again and again. He began to move faster, the sensations stronger—she could not take it anymore and squeezed him, grasped for him, shouted his name.
“My husband. My husband. My husband.” Voice breathy, she could not stop saying it until her tongue loosened with the rest of her and a sweet sense of release flooded her body.
“My god,” she moaned as he pulsed so many brilliant sensations through her that the world grew dull.
After what felt like ages and too little time all at once, Braam’s face twisted in what could only be the same manner of ecstasy. His body pressed against Katty’s, her own locked against his. With an extended cry, his body draped over hers, the heat between them too much to bear. Yet she wrapped her arms around him, hands between his shoulder blades, unwilling to let go.
When at last he rolled away, her hands dusted the hard contours of his body.
Oh, wondrous world. There are not words enough for how I feel.It was not lost on her that Lord Braam was the cause of that feeling. She felt she’d been given a gift beyond any other, a power she had lacked without knowing it. He’d done that for her, taught that to her. He’d said he would.
The only thing better than the lesson was its teacher.
How could any man be so beautiful? So tender and solicitous and yet—there was simply nothing he lacked. The sheen of sweat over her own body cooled rapidly without his heat.Lord Braam. My lord husband.A sheepish smirk touched Katty’s lips. She would have to call him just Braam now or—what was his first name? Adrianus.
Lord, he was wonderful.Adrianus.Her husband.
Katty pulled the edge of his cape over her, touched by both shyness and the crisp autumn air. As if sensing her discomfort, the mist of the Lord’s Grove crawled between them, making her shape blurry even to herself.
Katty sighed, wishing she was more at ease with the man breathing deeply beside her, his sculpted body coated in pearly sweat. After what they’d just done, she was beginning to think he might be a wonderful man. And clearly, he had a great deal to teach her. It likewise didn’t hurt that he smelled like the woods on a fresh autumn morning, like crisp air and thyme. She didn’t think she’d ever get enough of that scent.
Should she say something to him? Katty felt as though she should say something. What they did deserved some kind of remark afterward.
“What a fascinating ceremony,” she murmured, trying not to let her smile show through her words. It nearly spilled out of her, her face widening at every thought, every memory of his gentle, inflaming touch. She covered her mouth with the cape, though she did not need it. She felt as though she would never be cool again. She’d feltwildwith him. As if he’d unlocked a part of her she’d never known.
And the way he did it—she was like a set of locks, his hands his mouth, his—that—a caressing, then insistent then passionately driving key to her, the right one for each part of her, the right pressure, the right—
She had no words for it, really. He’d discovered places of her she’d never known, driving her into a bucking, animal state. Prolonging her desire, then her pleasure in turns. And the way he appeared as he did it—his groans of passion, the furrow of his brow, the way he grappled for her, never too sharply, the way he looked at her face and body withwant—it was enough to drive her as mad as his touches. And then it stole her breaths, her very thoughts, her body flooded with warmth even as she felt herself leaving it.
Though she had been so uncertain at first, his ease had reassured her, and the obviousness depth of his knowledge. His confidence. She blushed at the thought that she could not offer him the same. She hoped she’d performed the ceremony as she was meant to. And even if she hadn’t—
