(Just Give Me) One Perfect Moment
She felt powerful. Strong and invincible as she rose above him. Need and want coiled through her, desire spiraling tighter and tighter each time his body pierced and filled hers. She leaned down, away from the support of his upraised knees and laved the flat of her tongue over the tendon standing out in stark relief along the side of his neck as he arched against the pillow and bared his throat to her in abject surrender.
Bracing her hands on either side of his head, her curls tumbled forward, cocooning them inside a golden curtain where nothing else existed but them and this moment. Staring into his eyes, she touched her lips to his, her lashes fluttering closed as their mouths moved together in a lazy kiss that belied the increasingly urgent rise and fall of their bodies.
Heart hammering and thighs trembling, pleasure radiated to the tips of her fingers and toes. Rising above him again, her hands bracketed the heaving bellows of his ribcage and she arched her back, riding a tidal flood of bliss, cresting over the top when he swept a careless thumb over her needy center. Calling out his name, she fell forward in a limp heap against his chest, gasping for air and fighting for a return to control.
The sound of his heart hammering beneath her ear roused her and she became aware that he remained hot and hard, still buried deep within her. Pressing her hands against his chest, she levered herself upright and with a soft smile on her lips, slowly rolled her hips over his. Her muscles fluttered around him, pulsing with the aftershocks of her own release and drawing him ever closer to his own. His eyes opened and she was caught by the intensity of his gaze. She felt his hand groping, seeking her own. His fingers threaded with hers, clamping tight and she watched the ocean blue of his eyes darken, saw his gaze go blurry. And as he followed her over the edge, her body tightened around his again, milking every last moment of pleasure from them both until they collapsed in an exhausted tangle of arms and legs.
"Mmmm." Feeling deliciously achy and well-used, Emma raised her arms above her head and stretched her toes toward the foot of the bed in a long, luxurious stretch. Curling up again beside him, she laid her head back down on his chest. "I don't want to go," she moaned softly. She was so comfortable, nestled under the covers with him. She shivered and her back arched like a cat's as Killian smoothed his hand over her tangled mop of hair. His fingers traced a leisurely path over the shallow groove of her spine, finding and dipping into the twin dimples at the small of her back.
"Then stay."
His voice was a deep rumble beneath her ear.
"I wish I could."
"You can," he told her. "It's a relatively simple proposition, Swan. Just don't go."
She closed her hand over the pair of charms glinting against the dark hair of his chest and pressed her lips over his heart in an open-mouthed kiss.
"Can't." Stacking her hands on his chest, she propped her chin on them and met his sleepy-eyed gaze. "Family dinner at the loft. Mary Margaret will kill me if I don't show."
She pushed herself up, crawling over him to sit on the edge of the bunk in his cabin. Stretching her hands over her head again, she let out a long groan then pushed to her feet.
"Brrr!" She danced on the tips of her toes as her feet made contact with the chilled wooden deck.
"It's nice and warm under here, love."
Glancing over her shoulder, she bit her lip to stifle the longing moan vibrating in her throat. Propped on one elbow, he was pure temptation. The covers pooled low on his hip, the white sheet standing in stark contrast to the tanned skin and dark hair stretched over his leanly-muscled torso. His hair stood up in spikes, crazily tousled by her hands. His lips were swollen and red from her kisses and his drowsy-eyed gaze beckoned her to return to his bed. Rings glinted on the long fingers splayed loosely over his belly and he lifted the sheet invitingly, giving her a shadowed peek-a-book glimpse of everything hidden beneath.
She took a half step toward the bed and then stopped.
"But Mary Margaret…" Weakly, she tried to remember her argument in favor of leaving.
"Perhaps it would be alright to be a wee bit late," he suggested enticingly. "Surely your mother can be persuaded to understand…"
"God, no. Then I'd have to explain where I was and what I was doing." She scrubbed her hands over her face and missed the shutters that came down over his expression. When she looked back up, his mask was firmly in place – the familiar smirk curving his lips as he lay back against the pillows.
"Right, Well, lass." He glanced over, shot her a wicked smile. "I know you are quite aware of what it is you're missing."
She laughed and padded across the chamber on bare feet to fill a bowl with water from a waiting pitcher. She splashed water over her face before lathering a thick sponge with a bar of soap. She scrubbed her neck and arms, her breasts and between her legs, washing away his scent and the musk of their mating. It would not do to go to family dinner smelling of sex.
She made quick work of her bath. She loved the Jolly Roger. The gentle rocking motion and sound of the water lapping at its hull soothed her, but she did miss the lack of modern world amenities. That thought led to a brief fantasy of introducing Killian to the joys of a hot shower (and hot shower sex) and she paused, her vision going blurry as she imagined rivers of hot water sluicing over his nude form.
"Change your mind, love?"
The hopeful sound of his voice pulled her from the vivid imagery and she shook her head to clear it. She snatched up a nearby length of cloth and dried herself. Grabbing her clothes from where they were piled on the floor, she attempted to shake out the worst of the wrinkles and dressed quickly.
"Can't." Standing in front of a mirror, she tugged her clothing into place and ran her fingers through her snarled hair. Squinting at her image in the old and faded glass, she repaired her makeup, dusting a light coat of powder over her face and swiping raspberry gloss over her lips in hopes of hiding the swollen redness left behind from his kisses.
Striding across the room, she sat on the edge of the bed. Twining the silver chain of his necklace around her index finger, she tugged him toward her, intending to drop a lighthearted goodbye kiss on his lips. But the moment their mouths met, the kiss turned into a messy, wet, greedy tangle of tongues, lips and teeth.
"Oh, God. Stop." Pulling away, she blinked dazedly and pressed one hand over her rapidly beating heart. Glancing down, she noted evidence of his arousal stirring back to life beneath the sheets. Her hand swept below the covers, fingers stroked over the hot, hard length of him.
"Oh, boy," she said regretfully. "I have to go," she apologized. "But I'll be back for this later." Swiping her thumb over the velvety-soft tip, and feeling him jump in her hand, she gave him a saucy smile. Leaning down she pecked her mouth to his.
"Mmmm. Raspberry." She wiped the thumb of free hand over his mouth, removing the traces of gloss left there and then rising quickly, she hurried toward the door, jacket in hand.
"Swan," he groaned. "Don't you dare leave me like –"
"Gotta go. Mary Margaret'll be mad if I'm late again. I'll see you later." Waggling two fingers, she shot him an impish grin before hurrying from the room.
Hauling herself up the hatch, she leaned weakly against the thick wooden post which supported the main mast and brought her breathing under control while silently cursing family obligations. Shrugging into her jacket and taking a quick look around to verify that no one was about to see her, she jogged lightly down the gangplank before hurrying back to town to meet her family.
TBC
A/N: This story is complete but not fully edited. I'm posting the first chapter as I prepare to leave for vacation but am hopeful that I'll find some quiet time while I'm away to edit the remainder and post it this week. If not, I will post it upon my return next weekend.