Page 59 of Reign of Light
Because it does. This man is my life now, and I never want to give him up.
I try to rock my hips into him, and he grips my hips harder, his bruising fingertips pressing into the muscle, and tilting me until I can feel the press of him right where I need it, as he pounds into me again and again.
A cry rips from my throat as my muscles begin to clench and quake around him, the pressure unable to be contained any longer.
“That’s my good girl. Let go, Lennox.” He grunts as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. He sucks the skin there and presses his chest into me again.
I don’t know if it’s his command, or the swell of his cock inside me, or the heat of his body pressing into mine, surrounding me and making me feel like I’ll never be alone again, but I can’t control it anymore. My mouth falls open in a silent scream, my chest heaving and hands gripping as intoxicating pleasure thrums through my core, my body, my limbs.
He sinks his teeth into the muscle in my shoulder, his own roar loud in my ear as he thrusts one last time. Heat blooms between my legs ashe comes, and I can do nothing but pant, sucking in air and breathing him in. He stills, both of us breathing deeply, the only sound over the roaring of the waterfall.
My head lolls lazily to the side as my lips search for his. He kisses me gently, the barely there press of his lips so different from the rough and frenzied actions that consumed him moments ago. His tongue strokes mine, the movement barely a whisper as I come down from the high, my core still clenching around him as my chest heaves against his.
His forehead presses into mine, and we stay just like that for a few long moments before he breaks the silence.
“I know I’m not a man of many words,” he murmurs. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, steadying myself so I can focus on what he’s telling me. “I don’t like talking about how I feel. It’s probably a product of watching my mother die, and seeing my father live with the regret of missing her.”
There’s a pang in my chest knowing now that it was Edmond who went through the pain, who missed the death of his wife, and who raised his young son alone.
“I regret leaving Blackwood without telling certain people how I felt about them, or telling them what I needed. I don’t want to make the same mistake with you.”
His chest rises and falls with a heavy breath, like he’s trying to find the courage to say what he feels, instead of bottling it up inside and being the strong one; the one who never needs.
“I told you before that I don’t know how I lived this long without you, and I don’t want to do it again.” His palm settles on my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin softly. “I was serious earlier. Please don’t take that away from me.”
I reach up and lace my fingers through his, feeling the warm metal of his ring press into my skin as I hold his hand against my face.
“There’s nothing to worry about. No one it taking anything from anyone. You don’t need to live without me.” He lets out a sigh filledwith relief as his shoulders curl in, cocooning us in our cave, whispering promises that only the island and we know.
“I’m yours forever, Weston.”
His hand slides down my cheek and under my chin, lifting it and giving me a soft kiss, sealing his promise.
“And I will spend every second of forever making sure it stays that way.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Reset.”
My training blades clatter to the deck as I fold over, resting my hands on my knees. Sweat drips down my face, and my chest heaves as I try to catch the breath that Weston is doing his best to make sure I never do. This afternoon, he and Sig pulled out the training weapons to work out some more restless energy in the crew. I spent most of the day helping Fin and Roley, who stayed on the ship after last night. Roley was excited to have his own child-sized bow, just like Fin’s, which made their target practice much more effective, and fun for them.
Weston came over to watch while on a break from the lessons he was giving Gauge. He had stopped by the ship this morning and ended up staying the entire day, and was quite excited when he saw the swords.
Standing beside me with his arms crossed over his chest, Weston called some advice out to Roley and Fin, which was met with a chorus of very serious ‘Aye, Captains’, followed by intenseconcentration etched on their faces. Before heading back to the rest of the crew, he leaned toward me, his voice low and filled with challenge. “Come over once I’m finished with them. You’re mine for the rest of the evening.” I tried to keep the blush from my cheeks as he walked away, doing my best to avoid watching him saunter across the deck, back to the eager group waiting for his next instruction.
Keeping a straight face for the rest of the day and trying to hide my anticipation of finding out what he meant by the challenge was difficult. But as the crowd slowly dispersed, and the boys Weston had been working with all day sat off to the side, it was clear he actually meant training. He sauntered across the deck toward me, a set of swords in each hand, and a wicked smirk on his face.
We’ve been here ever since, in our own training ring, because Weston decided today was the best day to teach me how to use two swords at once. Hours have passed, and despite the complete exhaustion and aching muscles, I’m more invigorated than I’ve ever been in a training session with Brynne.
Now that our relationship is no longer the antagonistic captain and the defiant captive, Weston’s lessons are completely different, even more than the day he taught me to disarm him with my dagger. He isn’t afraid to touch me, to let his hands or gaze linger, or push me harder than he would have. Where he was patient and understanding before, he’s now firm but playful. If training had been like this my entire life, I can’t imagine how skilled I would be with a sword.
“I need a break,” I gasp, still sucking air in deeply. I lift my head from where it had fallen between my shoulders and look at him across the deck. The colors of the sunset behind him are vibrant pinks and oranges, and the last light of the day makes the sweat on his skin glisten.
“Your attackers won’t stop to give you a break,” he says, fists resting on his hips, still holding both swords he has been fighting me with.
“Who’s going to attack me? Them?” I throw a hand out toward the crew sitting off to the side, watching our training.
“I’ll fight you if you need me to, Lennox,” Veck calls out, and Weston scowls, leveling his sword at him.
