CHAPTER 3
"It is me, m'lady. Should I leave you?" Ellyn was quietly knocking on the door and speaking softly.
"No." Sansa called out. "Give me but a moment!"
She looked around the room for evidence of her evening's companionship. Seeing the two goblets she quickly returned them to a table by the wall. There were no other signs of the night before, and a part of her mourned it. The night had been momentous, yet here mere hours later there was no proof of the change that had swept over her. She sniffed her arm in the hope of finding a hint of him still there, an essence upon her skin, as she threw on her shift and dressing gown. Hurrying to the door she gave herself the briefest of moments to compose herself, sucking in two deep breaths before opening it.
"I am sorry, m'lady." Ellyn said apologetically, her eyes unable to meet her mistress. "I know you said you would sleep late this morning, it is just that the men in the tower have seen what they think are dragons on the horizon. I thought you would want to greet your brother?" She said, looking uneasy and sounding flustered at having disturbed her mistress.
"It's alright, Ellyn. Come, ready me." Sansa said brightly, shutting the door. "There is no time to bathe properly now, instead could you please have a bath awaiting me before bed this evening? I will bathe myself then, you needn't stay for it. You should go instead and enjoy the company of the many guests who will no doubt spend the evening in the great hall."
"Really, m'lady?" The girl said excitedly.
"Certainly." Sansa replied.
Thinking ahead, the girl had brought with her an ewer of warm water, so her mistress could wash. Sansa sat restlessly as her long hair was brushed and braided at her temples. She was beginning to be laced into her gown with growing apprehension. It had felt an age since her brother had been at Winterfell. She'd handled her position ably in his absence and wondered if his return would see a decline in her responsibilities or value to him. An horrific screeching, startled both Sansa and Ellyn. It curdled their blood in an instant.
"I really don't think I want to see the dragons." The young girl said apprehensively, alarmed tears forming in her eyes.
Sansa nodded. "It is frightening and hard to conceive, but they will be valuable weapons in our battle. I trust my brother's judgment in his alliance with the Queen, and you must find it within yourself to do so too."
There was another knock at the door, and Ellyn went to see who it was.
Stepping in and surveying the scene, Arya quickly said "You may go Ellyn. I will finish lacing my sister."
Sansa confirmed the instruction with a nod, and the girl swiftly left, ewer in hand. Arya started pulling at the laces, she was not as nimble at the task as Ellyn, but was making a fair attempt.
"Bran and I spoke last night." She began, "I know we had agreed that Jon should know his parentage, but we feel in the current situation it is perhaps better to wait a while? To see how dedicated the Queen is to the new battle plan. Without her support, all could be lost." She puffed out a breath in frustration. "Neither Bran nor I wish to withhold it from him, but the situation is delicate. Will you support us on this?"
Sansa turned and looked at her sister, her brow gently furrowed. "For how long must we keep it secret?" She said.
"Perhaps a day, maybe until after the battle? We will judge the situation as it unfolds." Arya replied, fiddling with a caught lace. "If you agree we must speak to Jon's friend Samwell quickly. Bran has gone to him to stop him from greeting Jon."
Briefly considering the matter, Sansa said "It is no doubt for the greater good. We have all the north and country to think of. Jon will surely understand the delay when we do tell him?" Her tone implying that she was not completely sure of her words.
Arya nodded, despite her sister being unable to see it. Giving a final flourish as she tied off the laces, she made for the door saying, "I must run then. I will see you in the courtyard?" A question in her voice.
"Yes" Sansa called, as she pulled on her cloak and shoulder fur. She lay her hands upon her gloves and headed for the courtyard.
The enormous spikey beasts, grotesque but beautiful, had landed outside the gates of the castle, as too many people milled around within the courtyard in a great commotion. Sansa arrived in time to see her brother's black cloak make its way through the crowd, the beautiful figure of the Queen of Dragons alongside him, wearing an elegant white and silver fur dress with long splits from hem to thigh revealling practical breeches beneath it. Arya will like her, Sansa thought. The Queen was captivating to the eye. She was tiny and possessed an extreme feminine beauty that oozed confidence. Her hair was so blonde that it was white, and she wore it in a style so elaborately sculpted with braids that Sansa wondered how long she sat in a chair each morning to achieve it. Her exotic beauty made Sansa feel plain for quite possibly the first time ever.
She hurried along the gallery and waved out to Jon. He raised his arm when he saw her. "Meet me inside." He called, adding "My chambers!"
She nodded and spun around to make her way there, her cloak twisting and floating like a dark storm cloud as she did. Bumping into Arya once inside, she said cautiously, "Did you reach Samwell in time?"
Arya nodded. "He agreed." She whispered.
"Good." Sansa replied. "I am on my way to Jon's chambers, at his request. I suspect he wishes a moment alone with family before confronting the lords."
"Then I shall fetch Bran, and see you there." Arya said, already moving to do so. The excitement on her face at the prospect of seeing her favourite sibling, a stark contrast to her usual measured demeanour.
The three were gathered restlessly awaiting him. When Jon finally entered the room, his face had been a confusing mix of bleak and joyful. He allowed the joy to overtake him when his dark eyes met those of his cherished youngest sister. Arya launched herself at him and they laughed joyfully, his hands on her shoulders shaking them in disbelief that she was near and grown. He moved his fingers to her sword's hilt as if needing to confirm to himself that it was truly her.
Arya in turn, allowed emotion to moisten her eyes, so grateful she was to be reunited with a brother who had always understood and supported her.
Bran was his now typical quiet, withdrawn self - so changed by his experience beyond the wall. He had been a rambunctious boy before the calamitous fall that not only impacted his spine, but his future; and been angered and serious since. His time past the wall had dissolved his anger at his predicament, but also zapped him of his personality. He seemed more spiritual than human at times.
Crouching to be eye level with him where he sat, Jon rested his hand lovingly upon his shoulder. Bran spoke with him intently, seriously, but showed little emotional response. Sansa accepted a hug from her brother, their relationship having softened since their parents' death. She appreciated his return more deeply than she had thought possible, now that she held him in her arms. Jon himself seemed quite changed, as if he had grown in confidence in his time away, sure of his leadership and strength.
"It saddens me that there is no time for family at this moment, but battle plans must come first. I have called an urgent meeting to discuss the grave situation which is upon us, but I am very glad of this small chance to lay eyes upon you all in private. We have spent far too many years apart. We have all lost far too much." Jon said genuinely.
They exited the room before they all became too reflective. As she walked alongside Jon to the council room, Sansa relayed all she had achieved in his absence. She told him of her recent fruitful meeting which had hatched a further plan, and briefly outlined it to him.
"Good." He said. "You have done very well. I knew you would." His dark eyes shining at her with pride.
They entered the room to find everyone awaiting them, with the exception of Tyrion and the Queen who were on their way, having had their own private meeting whilst Jon greeted his family.
When the Queen entered the room all present rose in silence, but for the sound of numerous chair-legs scraping on the floor. Sansa was unsure if the immediate hush that had fallen upon the room was out of respect for a royal, or wonderment at the beauty that stood before them. Jorah Mormont took excessive pride in introducing her, "Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, Queen of …", listing her extensive titles in an authoritative tone.
Jon, having reserved a seat for her next to him, looked solemn as he pushed her chair towards the table whilst she lowered herself on to it. She'd been given pride of place on an impressive large chair that had lately been gifted to John. Made of dark stained timber, its tall back was carved with images of direwolves and snow iced trees. Each armrest ended with an intricately carved rendition of an open-mouthed wolf bearing its teeth in aggression. Tyrion, as Hand of the Queen, sat at her other side. Once the three were comfortably seated, those who had the honour of a place at the table sat, whilst the remainder of the crowded room stood at attention.
Jon spoke first. "I trust you have had a chance to tell the Queen of the outcome of your meeting yesterday, Lord Tyrion?"
"Yes, indeed." he replied, giving a short nod.
"Good." Jon continued, "I consider that plan sound, save for what the Queen and I have discovered during our exploration north." A worried countenance about him.
He continued, "As you all know, a dragon died north of the wall when attempting to rescue our party during a recent sortie. It was thought that dragon, Viserion, was lost for good as it died before sinking into a deep ice lake."
He looked around the room at the faces following his every word. His voice dropping a tone as he spoke intensely, "We have learnt that the Night King has somehow raised the dragon from the lake bed and it lives again, undead."
The seriousness of his words was reflected in the horror which flashed over the now agitated gathering.
"It is a fearsome creature and breathes not fire, but ice. It is powerful sorcery, and has shattered the wall. East Watch by the Sea is destroyed. The enemy marches forward. One hundred thousand men, creatures and white walkers, or more." He waited a moment for the power of his words to take hold.
Solemnly he said, "We could not establish if there were any survivors at East Watch. A search will have to wait."
His countenance changing, he said "We landed and observed the army from a very great distance, and waited until nightfall to return. The Night King rides Viserion. He appears to circle above his army, not venturing ahead of them, but that could change. The hoard is slow moving, but it moves ever forward." He again waited for those gathered to take in his words.
"What do you think of the plan which has been formulated in our absence, my Queen?" He said, turning to Daenerys.
She looked around the room, royal in every sense, undisturbed by the weight upon her. "I believe it may be the only defence we have. To move our armies north towards them weakens us. Travel in snow is not easy, and my own armies are unused to the cold. Feeding and sheltering our soldiers is more difficult on the move. It would seem prudent, if not necessary, that we stay and defend Winterfell, and attempt to burn them out before they reach us."
She looked down upon the map stretched out before her on the table. "When my khalasar arrives, it could perhaps move on to here, the Dreadfort, with a local battalion who know the area, to mount an attack from there?" She said, her finger indicating movements on the map.
"They could prepare another fire wall. It has the potential to weaken our enemy further before they reach the bulk of our forces." She added.
Rumblings of agreement filled the room. Ordinarily, Lords are never so easily won over, nor lacking in their own opinion or desire to lead, but with an opponent like none they had ever envisaged, no-one was prepared to go against what became an increasingly obvious plan.
Tyrion spoke, "I believe all forces should begin training with the new weapons. The weight of the arrowheads is no doubt new to our archers. Fighting with dragon glass spears and daggers will be a vastly different experience. A flaming torch is now of more use than regular steel." He said, clearly frustrated at the thought.
Gathering authority in his voice he said, "Anyone capable of producing new weaponry should be set to task. They need not be pretty examples of workmanship, but we will need as many as we can make. No man, woman or child should be left without a dragon glass dagger in their hand. Every living person has value in this war, be they soldier, bastard, beggar or broken thing."
As he finished, a call of "hear, hear" reverberated around the room, and feet stomped in a thundering roll beneath the table.
Tyrion cleared his throat to regain the floor. "May I suggest we break into smaller committees? A final decision on whether the khalasar or another army move on to the Dreadfort should be made promptly. The sooner an army departs to it the better."
The meeting continued as organisations were agreed upon and committees appointed. Jon and Daenerys, being the only dragon riders, formed their own small committee with Tyrion. Together they mapped out plans for shepherding the army of the dead with flame. As they talked, the gravity of the situation was palpable between them.
It was decided that several archers would also ride on the backs of the dragons to protect Jon and Dany from attack. Their safety was paramount. If either of them were to be maimed or killed it was equal to losing a dragon itself. No other person possessed the affinity to guide the beasts. If, whilst offering protection, the archers were to target white walkers their companies of dead would fall with them. Any beneficial impact they were able to make on the petrifying hoard was vital.
Deciding that the two dragon riders would work in unison, one spreading flame whilst the other covered its back from attack from the Night King, the three architects of destruction spent the morning scrutinizing maps, establishing the best wooded areas to mount assaults. If they played their hand too soon, or reveal its scale too large, the Night King could fly ahead of his army to destroy Winterfell, leaving the rest of the country vulnerable without defence.
By the afternoon Bran had been invited to join their committee, the group having realised his abilities as a warg would prove useful to watch the dead approach from safety as easily as a bird in a tree. It was risky, as the Night King could feel Bran's presence when he was too near, and Bran felt the transformation fatiguing, never quite fully returning to himself after an extended possession, but Bran insisted he was capable of the task.
Sansa had not been assigned to any particular group, instead she continued in her role overseeing all, but now with Davos working alongside and advising her. As intermediaries, they could see where one group may help another and report to Jon and Dany.
It was with relief that Sansa entered her chambers that evening to see Ellyn had placed the tub before the fire. The stress of her position was taking a toll. The maid abandoned her task of ferrying buckets of water, leaving her assistant to finish the job, and instead set about unlacing Sansa's gown.
"Could you have someone fetch me a supper of cheese and bread please, on your way past the kitchen Ellyn? Another carafe of wine would be nice too. And, have them send it immediately, I don't wish to be disturbed once I set foot in the bath." Sansa instructed.
"Of course, m'lady." Ellyn replied.
"Perhaps I will have my sleep-in tomorrow?" Sansa said wistfully.
"A half-hour later in the morning please." She said, smiling sweetly at the girl, adding "Enjoy your evening, but be careful. There are all types milling about the castle."
The girl smiled. "Thank you, m'lady. I will." She said, before adding "sleep well" and quickly exiting the room.
By the time the bath was ready a young boy had arrived with the supper tray. She thanked him as she extinguished the candles in the room and bolted the door as he left. Ridding herself of her dressing gown, she twisted her hair into a loose knot on top of her head, securing it with a pin. The tension of the day melted as she stepped into the steaming tub and immersed herself. Closing her eyes, she leaned back to relax, and was almost asleep when she heard a quiet tapping on the door.
Excited, she climbed out the bath not bothering to dry herself, slid her arms into her dressing gown and opened the door. Her delight was obvious when she saw him, and he quickly entered. Bolting the door behind them, he leaned down to give her a gentle kiss.
"Wet for me already." He teased, raising an eyebrow, and rubbing a large hand over her bottom.
Smiling at his jest she said, "It's for you really, the bath. I thought with so many people in the castle you wouldn't get a chance to bathe properly, facilities being stretched as they are. The water is still warm."
"That's very thoughtful of you, little bird." He said. "Or did I offend your nose last night?"
She shook her head. "I like the smell of you." She said truly.
"You've not been with me when I remove armour. That would offend you. A putrid rat smells better." He grinned and reached over his head, pulling his tunic off by its neck.
Watching him strip, she smiled to herself when his breeches came off, before reaching for a towel to dry herself. Her dressing gown wet, she took it off and lay it over the back of a chair in front of the fire.
"Would you like wine?" She asked. "I have some cheese for you as well."
He sighed as he sunk into the large wooden tub, the water sloshing over the edge and splashing on to the floor, the maids not having anticipated the bulk of a clandestine occupant. He let out a low guttural rumble as he said, "This is mighty good."
Remembering her offer, he added "Aye, I will have wine."
He watched her pour the wine, and reached for her bare behind when she passed the goblet to him. "You are a joy to behold, my lady." He said, squeezing her cheek.
She curtsied at the compliment, holding invisible skirts in her fingertips as she slid a leg daintily behind the other and dipped down to honour him.
The warmth of the water soothed his tired muscles, and he felt torn. "I want to get at you, but this is too nice to abandon." He said, his eyes reflecting his vexation.
"Don't hurry yourself. I can wait." She said moving to stand in front of the fire. The glow behind her creating a soft aura around her curves.
"I want to wash my hair." He said, "But, people will notice if I am suddenly shiny."
She looked at him considering it. "I am sure you could put your head under the water. It wouldn't be as obvious as if I lathered it for you."
He repositioned himself to tip his head forward and soak his hair. Flicking it back, he made himself comfortable again and took a large slug of wine. "May I have some of that cheese now, please?"
She pranced across the cold floors on tip toes to get him some. The coldness of the stone seemingly increased by her time in front of the fire. Handing him a chunk, she broke off a small piece to nibble at herself.
"I could get used to being treated like this." He said.
She looked at him meaningfully. "I hope you do." She replied, "We may all be doomed."
"Let's not talk of it, little bird." He said. "In this room, it is you and me. The bloody Night King can be a myth."
"Agreed." She said, reaching for a small stool and placing it next to the tub. Sitting down side-on to him but facing him, she put her hand in the water to touch his leg.
He looked at her dubiously, "I thought you wanted me to relax in here a while?" You'll have me out of here soon if you touch me like that." He said good naturedly.
"I just like being near." She said, looking into his dark handsome eyes. "Take your time."
"I like you being near." He replied, his voice a low rumble as he spoke. "It has been bloody difficult today, to keep my distance from you. I want to shut the door on the fucking world and inhale you."
She leaned forward to kiss him. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but was full of love and longing. "Today I've wondered why we have to be secret? This is my family castle after all, and there is no-one above me to tell me what to do, or how to be. Who is there to mind if I took you as a lover openly?"
Looking aghast, he said "Your brother! Let's not give him reason to avoid swinging his sword should he see an opponent approach me from behind. Besides, isn't it enjoyable to have this to ourselves? To know we have each other and no one to comment on it, telling us it is wrong?"
Wrinkling her nose, she said "You could be right."
"Could be, little bird?" He said almost choking on his wine and the words. "Have you had too much wine? You know no-one would accept you being with a low-born, even if only as a lover. Can you imagine what would be said about Sansa Stark and the Hound?"
She growled, "The Hound." Her eyes sparkling, she smirked as she said, "It is a very erotic nom de plume."
"Gods woman! I've never heard it mentioned in those terms before." He said shocked.
Together they had a natural comfort in each other's presence, a mutual trust not shared with anyone else. They sat enjoying the wine and peace of the room for a while.
Standing abruptly, water cascading down his body, he said "Now hand me a towel and take me to bed."
She took a towel and, rather than handing it to him, she set about carefully drying him herself. His torso dry, he stepped out of the bath. She delicately crouched before him to dry between his legs and saw that he was beginning to harden. His cock engorging as her eyes were transfixed upon it.
Seeing her look at him he said, "Don't fear. Just because I have had you once, I claim no right to you. It is always your choice if we couple."
"Oh, no. You mistake me. I was staring in a good way – not a fearful way. You are quite a man." Winking at him as she stood. Pulling the pin from her hair, she released her locks to tumble down her shoulders.
Embracing her he said, "My comment stands nonetheless, and you can rest assured I shall be more careful this time. I'll not put my seed within you again."
"No." She said firmly, miffed and pulling away from him. "I want your pleasure in me."
Concerned, he said "But, what if I give you a bastard?"
A sadness flowed over her face and she replied, "I think it unlikely. No seed has taken before."
She stood silent for a moment thinking. "If it did, would you not claim it? Legitimise it with your name?"
"Of course, I would." He said genuinely, "But people would still talk. Still disrespect you for it."
Adamantly she said, "I don't wish to see you spill your seed upon the floor. All of you is for me." Before softening her tone and adding, "If you will give it?"
He stepped towards her again, bending his head down to kiss her, lifting her on to his hips, her legs locking around his waist. He walked towards the bed and when he got there, thrust her down upon it. She giggled when she landed on the soft feather mattress, and beckoned him with a finger. Putting one knee on the bed beside her he leaned over her and kissed her firmly.
Their kiss increased in passion, their tongues dancing an intoxicating caper. He pulled away to run gentle kisses and bites along the side of her neck and over her breast. Taking his time to lick and suckle both. She bucked as he did so, her hands flowing over the warm skin of his shoulders. Her nipples were stiff against the flicks of his tongue, unashamedly displaying their want. Continuing his kisses down her ribs and over her stomach, his tongue circled her belly-button and she writhed in delight, her soft laughter emanating freely.
When his face met her mound, he rubbed his nose in amongst the mass of red and golden curls, moaning to himself in pleasure as he did so. He gently parted her legs and began kissing her folds, giving them long languid licks, breathing deeply enjoying the heady scent of her. Gently sucking a fold into his mouth, he gave it the lightest of bites before continuing to lap and suck her lovingly.
Her hands were gripping his head, as her fingers entangled in his hair, wavering between pulling him away and pushing him deeper; lost in the sensation and struggling to take the shock waves coursing through her as he gently licked her tender nub and sucked it ever so delicately. High pitch squeals escaped her, the sound increasing her own fervour.
His tongue ventured deeper into her folds. He was clearly relishing the taste of her. Her hips rolled of their own volition, and he dipped his tongue inside her, exploring her as deeply as he could. Lifting his head for breath his beard was glistening. With his eyes locked on hers he raised his hand to sweep her juices into his mouth with his broad palm. She had never seen anything so utterly pleasing, so stimulating to her own desire; The Hound with his beard so covered in her lust and taking it into his mouth.
With an enormous cocky grin, he asked, "May I have you my lady?"
She propped herself up on to her elbows to better take in the vision of him. The tip of his long stiff cock glistened in anticipation. The sight of it standing to attention, in desperate need of her, drew her hand towards it.
Her finger played with his arousal drop. The firm, yet spongey, smooth knob delighting her slippery fingertip. She wrapped her hand securely around his hot shaft and began stroking it up and down, his own hand briefly folding over hers to show her the rhythm. The vision of him lost under her spell thrilled her. Her womanhood throbbed violently. She placed her other hand around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.
Their lusty kiss as she stroked fuelled her and she uttered, "Yes." The word seeping out in an animalistic rumble.
Releasing her hold on him she lay back on the bed, and he bent down over her, one forearm taking his weight, the other hand bracing his cock. He gently rubbed it between her folds, her juices quickly enrobing him and making the rod slip tantalizingly amongst her. She was feeling desperate and pushed her hips towards it.
The satisfaction when he finally pushed himself inside her was sublime. She wanted to close her eyes and fall into the sensations, but she forced herself to watch his face. It was peaceful with his own satisfaction. Her hand reached up to rest on his jaw, his beard sensual as it brushed her palm. His expression became intently serious as he began to thrust.
Their breathing already shallow, increased in pace together, her breasts bursting as her nipples grazed against him. He began to pump harder, more urgently and her desire quickly sought its peak. He stopped momentarily to reposition himself. Dragging her hips into the air, he was standing upon his knees on the bed. He lifted her legs over his shoulders, leaning his torso forward, one hand pushing into the bed beside her, taking his weight.
She gripped hold of his arm, steadying herself against the power of his thrusts as he filled her more deeply and she moaned as each one hit home. The pounding was so hard it was almost painful; but it was better, so much better to be on that cusp. Her peak had built again, and when she felt it detonate her mind went white. Two more thrusts and he joined her, his cock twitching within her. Her release continued to pulse through her being and she felt the involuntary tugs in her core as her body milked him of his seed.
He made to move, but she could not take it. She gripped his arm and her knees clutched his head, communicating her need to remain still.
Several breaths later she felt her fingers relax, "You can move now." She said, but, when he did another pulse hit her and she gripped him again.
"A moment. I need a moment." She pleaded.
When he finally slid out of her and lay her hips back on the bed, all she could do was curl on to her side and breathe.
"Are you alright, little bird?" He whispered, concerned.
She nodded, her eyes firmly shut. A moment later she said, "Exquisitely alright."
He curled up behind her, breathing in her scent. "I thought I'd hurt you." He said, still a little concerned.
"Far from it." She said. "Far, far from it." Still unwilling to communicate as her body hummed in delight.
When they later climbed under the covers, he lay on his back and she snuggled into his side. There was the distinctive aroma of sex between them. Their muskiness filled her nostrils and her skin still tingled. She was happier than she had ever been. The heat of his skin, giving her a deep sense of belonging.
"Will you stay longer tonight?" She asked hopefully.
"A little." He replied. He was used to being able to will-himself awake. His years of soldiering had taught him to rest deeply, and briefly, when time allowed.
Quietly she asked, "Will you have me again before you leave?"
He kissed her forehead, replying "If you insist." Smiling knowingly, he said "I'd have you every hour of the day if I could."
Content with his answer she kissed his chest and let herself drift into sleep.
She was dreaming of the Hound. He'd come to her tall and ominous, radiating passion in the heart of a dark wood. She'd been wary of him at first, but the mystic shadow in his eye had spoken to her soul and she'd willingly moved towards him. He'd thrust her to the forest floor, the soft leaf litter cushioning her fall, and was taking his pleasure. Kissing her and fondling her breasts, she felt the pang of disappointment at the dawning realisation it was only a dream. Becoming more alert, she registered her dream was in fact based in truth. His head was nuzzling her belly and she reached forward to grasp it and bring his lips to hers.
"Good morning, my love." She said, as she pulled his face closer.
She loved the taste of his mouth, she thought as their tongues probed each other. It was unmistakably that of a man, of her man.
When he pulled away from their kiss he quietly rumbled, "We cannot be long."
She felt his hand begin to massage her folds as he leaned above her. Looking deeply into her eyes he said, "I don't believe you are real. That this is real. I have yearned to touch you for so long, I can't believe my hands are upon you."
Her breath caught as his long strokes of her folds turned into squeezing rolls. His thumb and forefinger doing an erotic dance. He dipped a finger inside her to moisten it and stroked her again, this time finding her nub. She wanted to kiss him so badly, but even more she did not want his finger to lose the delightful rhythm it had found in the minute rubs. Her back began arching, her breathing became shallow.
She was aware he was watching her face in the dark. She felt possessed by him. Her release was calling, her legs stiffened willing it, her feet flexing in need. When he leaned down and aggressively sucked her breast it hit, the spark and warmth radiating out from his hand. The peak was not as powerful as when it came from her core, but its difference made it no less equal. She panted as she opened her eyes. He was above her now, his knees pushing between hers to find his place, his arms either side of her, his beautiful face above her asking with his dark eyes.
She nodded her head and he pushed himself inside her. Her hands reached up to his face and pulled him into a passionate kiss, and he began his beat. The thrusts were perfect, a steady pace and depth. She opened her eyes to see him watching her again, intent on her pleasure. She found herself letting out small sounds. He quickened his pace in response.
"Deeper" she said.
He pulled out, quickly flipping her over and she got on all fours, tilting her bottom towards him and gathering the pillows underneath herself. He slid back in and she groaned. His work began in earnest and he pounded her heavily, the sounds she released louder as he met her need with each thrust. Until it was right there, that peak from her core, it was so close it hurt. She feared it would not come. To have it so near and not reach it was an incalculable torment. It hit, and she collapsed, sinking boneless into her soft pillow nest.
She felt him pull out, his spurts of hot cum on her back, his strong hand massaging it into her skin, squeezing her buttocks; she loved it. His seed slick upon her skin, his love in his caress. She could feel his shaft still hard rubbing against her cheeks as her peak flowed over her in waves still. He leaned down, sweeping her hair aside and rained kisses on her shoulders.
"I must go now, my love." He whispered. "Go back to sleep."
He climbed from the bed and pulled a blanket over her. She was immersed in her own sensations. She wanted to go to him, to kiss him goodbye, but all she could manage was to turn her head and watch him dress before the fire. He smiled a content smile, a knowing smile.
"Will I come to you again tonight?" He asked unnecessarily.
"Yes." She said, dreamily "You know, the answer is yes."
"Aye, lass. I know." Smiling sweetly, he walked to her and kissed her goodbye.