Chapter 281: I’ve Been Hard Since I Woke Up

"Is that my fault?"

"Entirely."

She shifted her hips, and felt him against her, thick and stiff and hot beneath her. A bead of wetness slid down the inside of her thigh. She was still soft and swollen from the night, still slick from him, and she felt the blunt head of his cock nudge at her entrance as she moved.

They both sucked in a breath.

"Morgana," he said, very quietly. "Slowly."

"I’m not in a hurry."

"Good."

His hands slid down to her hips. He lifted her, just slightly, and she reached between them and took him in her hand, and guided him to her. He was so hot. He was so hard. The head of his dick slid through her folds and caught at her pussy, and she sank down on him, inch by inch, with a long unsteady sigh.

He filled her.

It was different from the night before, softer, deeper somehow, the tender ache of a body that had been loved and wanted more. She felt every inch of him. She felt him twitch inside her. She felt his breath catch against her chest, and his hands tighten on her hips, and she sat there for a long moment, fully seated, her forehead pressed against his.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Good morning."

"Are you sore?"

"A little." She smiled. "I like it."

He kissed her.

It was a long, slow kiss, and she melted into it. She began to move, small slow rolls of her hips, barely more than a rocking, and he followed her pace, his hands guiding her gently. His mouth left hers and trailed down to her breast again, and he took her nipple between his lips and suckled, and every pull of his mouth tightened the soft coil inside her.

She moaned.

It was an unhurried, helpless sound, and it echoed in the quiet room. She tipped her head back and felt the sun touch her face. It had cleared the edge of the window. A bar of pale gold fell across her breasts, and across his dark head bent over them, and across the place where their bodies joined.

"Look at you," Draeven murmured. He had lifted his head to look. His eyes were hazy with wonder. "In the light. I could look at you all day."

"You’d get hungry."

"I would starve gladly."

She laughed, and the laugh turned to a gasp as he thrust up into her, a slow deep drive that reached somewhere deep and aching. She clung to his shoulders. He did it again, and she heard herself whimper, and he smiled against her breast.

"There," he said. "Right there. Do you like that?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"I like it." She was panting. "I like it when you....do that. Again."

He gave it to her again, and again, in a rolling lazy rhythm, his hips rising to meet her as she came down. She could feel the pleasure building, a slow warm tide this time rather than a storm, rising and rising, filling every inch of her.

"Draeven," she whispered. "I want to...."

"I know."

"Can we..."

"Yes."

He stood.

She squealed, startled. His arms locked under her thighs and he rose from the chair in one smooth motion, with her wrapped around him and his cock still buried deep inside her. The new angle drove him deeper and she gasped, clutching at his neck.

"Draeven!"

"I’ve got you."

"Where are we going?"

"The window," he said, and his voice had dropped, and darkened. "I want you in the light."

The glass was cold against her back.

It was a shock after the heat of his body, and she gasped as he pressed her against it. The window was tall and wide, a great arch of leaded panes, and it opened onto the courtyard five stories down. She could see it over his shoulder, a gleam of wet cobbles and the dark shapes of carts and a few small figures moving in the grey light. A stable boy. A maid with a basket.

They had only to look up.

"Draeven," she whispered. "Someone could see."

"They could."

"You don’t care?"

"Not in the slightest." He thrust into her, slow and deep, and her head bumped the glass. "Do you?"

She should have cared. She knew it. She looked down at the tiny figures far below and felt the cold pane against her spine and the heat of the man inside her, and a thrill went through her that was half fear and half something wild and unexpected.

"No," she breathed.

His eyes flared.

"No?"

"I don’t care." She wrapped her legs tighter around him. "Let them look."

He made a sound in his throat, deep and dark and almost a growl. His grip on her thighs tightened. He drew back and drove into her, hard this time, and the window rattled in its frame.

"Gods," he said. "You are going to ruin me."

"Good."

"Hold on."

She did.

He took her against the glass with long, powerful strokes, each one driving her up against the cold pane and then pulling her back to meet him. The slap of his hips against her thighs echoed in the room. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, and his mouth found them, latching on one nipple and sucking it deep. She cried out. The sensation of his hot mouth on her breast and the icy glass at her back and his cock driving deep inside her was almost too much.

"Draeven.....oh....Draeven...."

"That’s it." His voice was ragged. "Let go. Let me hear you."

I can’t....it’s too...."

"You can."

He changed his angle, and the head of his cock struck something inside her that made her see white. She screamed. Her nails dug into his shoulders. He did it again, and again, relentless, his mouth on her breast and his hand sliding between them to find her clit.

"Come for me," he said. "Come on my cock."