The weight of the water suffocating her from all sides made the fight for freedom feel like it was happening in slow motion with each second of struggle leaving her feeling more disoriented than the last. It certainly didn't help that the dark water provided little means of helping her discern what was happening around her other than the constricting presence of the creature held tightly to her from behind.
Lungs burning from the accidental intake of water she'd swallowed upon submersion, she desperately clawed and thrashed against the form; hopelessly attempting to escape its firm hold which had her arms pinned at her sides, making it impossible to untangle her upper body from it.
The moonlight danced along the water's surface about a dozen feet above her. That much she could decipher. However, she knew if she didn't free herself soon, all would be for naught as the air she was so needy for only provided icy water to her lungs instead; a factor that was also causing her to lose feeling in her fingers and toes.
Due to the increasing panic her body was producing, there was no calm to be found and it didn't help that she could feel the darkness of the creature seeping into her skin. Whatever this being was, it held a deep seated hatred toward her; one she could barely stand to be in contact with. It was as if the things very existence revolved around tormenting her; dragging her down into the abyss it had ascended from.
Eyes clenched shut in prayer that she could regain her control, she finally managed to collect her thoughts just long enough to summon her power, which she had began to feel the presence of the moment she felt the icy depths surround her.
Bright lights shone from her hands, seeking out the vines along the floor of the river; commanding them upward. The feel of the power flowing between her and the plant life connected with every nerve in her being, leaving her to relax in the creatures arms as she gave her life over to the river's occupants; trusting in them to do her bidding.
Her faith wasn't misplaced as the moment they reached the creature, wrapping around it tightly, the being tensed behind her, giving her the prompt she'd been waiting for as she gave a hard jerk forward; effectively untangling herself.
A shrill sound coursed throughout the surrounding area as the creature shrank away from her; descending into the dark depths.
Free at last, she struggled to reach the surface, desperate for air as her blood pounded powerfully behind her eyes and within her ears.
Upon breaking the surface, disorientation overtook her; her vision blurry from the sting of the water. Her chest rose and fell at an accelerated rate as she spun herself around, desperately searching for an escape; any place that might offer sanctuary from the freezing depths still surrounding her.
The night sky was bright with a full moon which seemed to be gazing down upon her, guiding her with its light, which finally permitted her sight of the shore not far off. A spark of hope swelled in her as she quickly set out for it, splashing against the freezing surface and propelling herself toward the land as quickly as she could manage; something that was becoming increasingly difficult as her body became more and more numb by the second.
When her feet finally grazed something solid, she collapsed forward and took to crawling up the bank, tripping and stumbling along the rocky, uneven floor of the river. Sand stuck to every inch of her nearly naked form as she fell into its embrace while also attempting to look over her shoulder and determine if the figure had yet regained itself and taken up pursuit.
Now, sitting amidst the sand, she shakily scanned the water's black surface, searching for any signs of impending danger; any sign that she'd once again be forced to defend herself. Whatever that thing was had been whole; capable of being injured. If it came at her again, she'd not be unprepared.
Her magic was rejuvenated; swirling in her chest brighter than ever as she tested its familiar boundaries; stretching and bending it to her will. It was like she'd been reawakened from a half life; her existence made whole once more.
When no signs of danger presented itself, she tried to calm just enough to take a deep breath amidst the pounding of her heart in the hopes of figuring out her next move, but the uncontrollable shaking of her body wasn't helping her accomplish that goal in the least.
With a glance down at herself, she took in her thin panties and bra; the only covering still left upon her. They, of course, did nothing to shield against the cold night air which was only further dropping her soaked body's temperature by the second. Something else the lack of clothing did nothing to cover was the angry, red marks along her chest; the imprints from Abraham's teeth clinging to her, despite her escape from him.
Fitfully shaking her head in the hopes of ridding him from her mind, she took in her surroundings and nearly fell over at the sight of the Dobbs Ferry Bridge in the distance; a bridge that was only three miles from her house.
Shocked she'd ended up so far from where she'd been only minutes before, she unsteadily pushed herself up and set off in a mad dash for the trees; her mind finding her goal. Now, that she was free from the carriage house, there was nothing preventing her from returning home.
Every step of the way, the forest floor bit into the soles of her bare feet, causing her to wince as she flung the branches in her path aside; running forward with no particular direction in mind. The dense fog helped nothing as the trees tended to all look the same when she could barely make out anything other than the next few feet before her. She couldn't really tell what was coming until she was right on top of it.
Unfortunately, her flight from danger ceased when a horrible wail in the distance caused her to grind to a halt and double over while looking back toward the way from which she'd come; her breathing strained and uneven; every muscle in her body throbbing or numb.
Whatever that creature was had obviously been set free and was now ticked over her escape. The thought of that thing in hot pursuit of her caused her already rapidly beating heart to double its frantic pace as panic shook her.
The irrational setting of her mind wasn't helped in the least by the icy feeling coating her skin as the water still clung to her; dripping from her hair and coursing down her skin.
"Katrina!"
Going stone still, the sound of his voice permeated her being; leaving her to clutch at the tree beside her for fear that she had hallucinated it.
The forest was so quiet, nary bird nor insect was moving about. There wasn't even any wind rustling the trees. Had she imagined Ichabod's voice? Perhaps, she'd hit her head in the struggle. No other realistic scenario would truly have him in this forest, shouting her name. There was no cause for him to be anywhere near here. As far as he, or anyone else knew, she was at Abraham's carriage hour, nearly five miles away.
Just as she was about to chalk his voice up to a concussion, or hallucination from having gone so long beneath the water's surface, she felt her heart falter when he broke through the dense fog; his tall, lean form rushing toward her.
So shocked to actually be seeing him, she couldn't even bring herself to move in response. If she moved, she might break the spell that had surely been cast over her.
She needn't have to move, however, as he was around her before she could suck in her next breath; strong arms tightly clenching her to his chest in moments.
"I feared the worst," he whispered into her soaked hair; his breathing ragged and loud as his fingers pressed into her spine.
The heat of his body seeped through his shirt, providing her with the first feelings of warmth as she clutched his coat; still unsure he was actually here. He couldn't actually be here, could he? That was too fantastical; too dreamlike.
However, when he placed his hand alongside her neck and pulled back whilst brushing her wet, plastered hair from her face, she could clearly see his beautiful blue eyes and knew he was real.
It also helped her sanity, or hindered it perhaps, that he looked so different than she last recalled. His beard was thicker and his hair unkempt; as though it hadn't been touched in days. A dark, painful looking bruise rested over his left cheek and his expression was one of a man on the brink of insanity.
"We went to the carriage house and saw the water," he explained breathlessly, his eyes darting over every inch of her face; panic and despair practically exuding from him. "I thought-"
The idea of him returning to that place had her body shaking even worse than before as the feeling of Abraham's hands caressing her, probing her, took control of her senses. She swore she could even feel his hot breath on her skin; greedily licking and nipping at her flesh.
"Kat?" Surprised to hear another voice, her eyes darted to Abbie, who she just realized was standing a few feet behind Ichabod, her brown eyes shining with obvious concern. "Are you alright?"
Breathing becoming erratic as ghost like fingers danced along her skin, she weakly shook her head and collapsed against Ichabod's chest; her fingers desperately clutching along the back of his shirt. "Don't let me go."
The immediate way his chest tightened beneath her cheek as his hands wound around her bare waist left her with a horrible feeling in the pit of her belly; one that was confirmed when he firmly pulled her back.
His eyes locked onto her chest, which was exposed to the night air; every inch of her covered in sand and the icy remains of the river which was still clinging to her.
"What happened to you?" he whispered, his eyes hardening into flashing orbs of blue. "Did Mary do this to you?"
Following his heated gaze, she took in her sand coated black bra and panties as well as the few angry red splotches where Abraham had nipped at her skin. The sight of it all, combined with Ichabod's eyes on the evidence, had her nearly about to fall to pieces right then and there. Her body was on full display, leaving no secret as to what had happened to her.
"I-no, it..." She gasped for the stinging, cold air which was deftly avoiding her. "It wasn't her."
Hot anger crept into his blue eyes, which had darkened considerably, as he tightly gripped her upper arms and demanded, "What did he do?"
The sensation of being held down sparked terror deep within her chest, one she could neither cast aside nor ignore, prompting her to abruptly jerk away from him and stumble back; the idea of being pinned down sending her into a near panic attack.
As her heart frantically pounded in her chest, the pulse taking over her entire being, she watched his face reflect one of surprise.
Then, before another word could be expressed, a shrill scream came from the trees behind them, causing Ichabod to tear his eyes from her and physically move to her other side, blocking her from the direction the sound had come.
"Crane, we have to do something," Abbie urged as she stared through the trees; her stance on high alert. "If she finds us unprepared, who knows what she'll do, especially with the two of you now together."
Without a word either way, Ichabod began hastily shrugging his coat off before he spun on his heel and held it open for her, a determined glaze over his dark eyes that only intensified with the stiff posture of his body and each harsh breath that appeared in front of his face. He truly looked as though he were prepared to break someone in half; something that did nothing to help her move to accept his offering.
"Katrina," he whispered, his voice cracked and broken. "Come here."
A sob stuck itself somewhere in the back of her throat and, more than anything else, it was the numb feel of her body that finally helped her regain some control of herself.
With a wary step forward, she allowed him to pull his coat around her shoulders; his movements gentler than she'd have expected from looking at him.
The whole time he was helping her, his gaze remained intent; one she deftly avoided as she slipped her arms through the thick, coat sleeves.
"It's Mary Wells," he offered softly as his fingers nimbly buttoned the coat. "You met her in my company many years ago."
Distracted from her previous thoughts, she searched her memory for the familiar name and asked, "The young woman from England?"
"The very same," he answered, finishing with the buttons and stepping around her to pick up the bow she'd only just now realized he'd dropped upon reaching her. "This creature is her tormented spirit given flesh. I don't know what has brought her here, but I must learn the truth."
"She's already killed one woman and attempted to drown me," Abbie added as she stepped closer to her; her gaze never leaving the trees. "She's trying to kill women Crane cares about and you, I believe, are the grand prize she's really after."
Grand prize, indeed, she thought, as she recalled the clear hatred that had exuded from the creature.
"She was raised by dark magic," she offered, her mind swirling with the possibilities. "I can undo the work, send that poor woman's soul to a better place, but I, too, must use dark magic to accomplish the task."
She met Ichabod's eyes, which were still trained on her; hard as steel. "In order to raise a spirit, I must risk my own. The only way for the spell to be achieved is for another witch to serve as an anchor to keep me from losing my way."
Ichabod seemed ready to protest her idea, but Abbie quickly piped in, "We're all out of witches, how about a Witness?"
Regarding her friend for a moment, she considered that it might just work. The internal strength and fortitude of a Witness ran much deeper than the average human being; something she'd observed within Ichabod numerous times when he wasn't paying attention.
Not that it really mattered at this point as it was their only option.
"The spell will take some time to cast."
When her eyes met Ichabod's again, he was staring at her as though still wary of her; as if she was the one who'd just looked to be on the verge of committing murder.
"I'll hold her off until the incantation has taken full affect," he said as he pulled the bow back, making her realize he was about to separate from them.
He'd barely taken his first step toward the wails before she'd grabbed his arm and quickly moved in front of him, panic at being parted from him filling her to her core.
"My love, please..." His blue eyes, ready, but still hard, darted over her face as she helplessly begged, "Don't leave me. You can't leave me."
As his intense gaze searched her face, she felt as though he were inspecting her like an insect; every part of her on display for his judgments; for his damnation if he so chose.
"Katrina-"
The next set of wails were too close to ignore, prompting Ichabod to jerk his gaze to the forest even as her fingers tightened around his arm.
"Please-"
"Do the spell." He turned back to her; his eyes holding hers. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Alright, let's do this," Abbie said with a measure of urgency as she held out her hands. "What do you need from me?"
Maintaining her gaze with Ichabod, she searched his eyes for assurance that he wouldn't back out on his word.
However, Abbie grabbing her arm to spin her toward her forced her to let him go and meet her friend's focused gaze. "Kat, what do we do?"
Coming to herself, she, then, grasped her friend's arm and pulled her to kneel on the ground with her. "I'll teach you the words you must repeat."
The chanting between them fell into a flow, Abbie's brightness holding her in place as she ventured into dark territory; into the lure it always held. Everything seemed to be moving too quickly, too erratically, to concentrate as her spirit hung in the balance, tethered to the world of good and light by Abbie's strength, which was burning like a beacon of hope in the center of her thoughts. She was surprised by how much brighter it was than Ichabod's; more assured and grounded. It struck her that despite her years of attempting to prepare Ichabod ahead of time, Abbie was already more in tune to her destiny than he was even close to being.
Drawing on her friend's energy, she attached herself to it as the dark words tumbled from her lips; the blackness of them raising a sick feeling in the pit of her belly; one that was attempting to stick to her in a vice like fashion.
Nearby branches began snapping, prompting her to jerk her gaze up to find the dark spirit racing toward them, evil intent clear in her erratic gait. However, as the creature closed in, it abruptly halted as though meeting an invisible wall, jolting backward and collapsing toward the ground.
"Mary," Ichabod said with urgency as he stepped toward the figure, who was writhing amidst the littered forest floor.
"It's done," she said, the darkness seeping from within her. "As the enchantment takes hold, Mary's spirit will be free to leave this earthly plane."
"Crane, be careful," Abbie warned as she released her and rested one hand on the holster of her weapon. "She could still be dangerous."
As he knelt beside the woman, he glanced up at Abbie; self assurance in his gaze. "Not to me. She won't harm me."
As if to affirm his words, he carefully pulled Mary's shaking form into his lap.
"Mary..." he whispered as he gently brushed some of her plastered hair from her face. "I thought... I thought you'd returned home. Why are you still here? What happened to you?"
Unsteadily rising, she watched as Mary stared up at Ichabod, her gaze clearly drawn to the care exuding from him.
Then, with an unsteady hand, she lifted her fingers to stroke his cheek as she whispered something so low it was unable to her heard.
Whatever the woman had said clearly shook Ichabod as his eyes darted to hers, his face seemingly draining of color.
However, before she could begin to understand what was happening, Mary moaned, her body going stiff as her skin began to blacken and decay.
Then, within moments, Mary Wells was gone.
The car ride home was spent in silence as was the trek across the lawn, up the steps, and into her house.
Currently, she was standing beneath the showerhead, desperately attempting to remove the chill from her bones as well as the feel of fingers still clutching at her body. She swore she could still feel Abraham probing her; still feel his hot breath on her skin; teasing and taunting her.
Bringing both hands up to smooth over her slick hair, she closed her eyes and squeezed them as tightly as she could manage.
Ichabod had not spoken to her since Mary had faded away, nor had he even looked at her other than to help her into the car and make sure his coat was tight around her body as he buckled her seatbelt.
After that, even Abbie had been silent as she continuously darted worried glances over at him as she drove.
Whatever conclusions he'd come to regarding Mary's death was clearly weighing on him, but he didn't seem of the mind to share it with her or Abbie. Truthfully, that was fine as she wasn't sure how much more she could take from this day, but what she wanted more than anything else was his embrace, which he wasn't, and didn't seem to plan, giving her. Even during the journey home, he'd ridden in the front seat, far from her touch.
For her part, she had no idea what to think of anything other than her need for his comfort; for the love he'd always freely given her. She was truly having a hard time concentrating on anything else as her every other thought seemed to return her to places she dreaded; places she was desperately trying to ignore, but somehow managed to still be the center of her thoughts.
In the forefront of her mind, she knew she needed to work this all out in her head if she was going to coax Ichabod into holding her. He had to be of the mindset to recognize her need for him. If she didn't present herself in a certain way, she knew he'd close off from her; just as he'd done in the forest. He was already wary of her and the demons circling her mind continually taunted the idea that it was because he knew. Her greatest love knew what she'd done; what she'd come so close to giving away. She could still feel the pressure that Abraham had started in her core and it wasn't abating; wasn't leaving her be. Her body, despite the hell it had endured over the past hour, still longed for release.
Dropping her head back against the shower wall, she clenched her eyes shut and released a sob; one that shook her entire body as she sunk to the floor.
It was too much; the pain; the desperation to feel something other than dirtiness. She was tainted now; used and battered. This wasn't something she'd be able to hide as easily as all the other things she'd kept from Ichabod. He'd see it. He'd know what she'd allowed to happen to her and he'd hate her for it.
Roughly wiping at her eyes, she brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them before settling her chin to rest atop them.
She wasn't going to solve her internal problems right now; she couldn't. She didn't even want to delve into them. So, instead, she set about considering Mary Wells, something that was difficult to do as the one and only time she'd met Mary Wells was a time that hadn't went very smoothly.
"You don't have to do that," she said as she held the mug tightly in her grasp; her eyes focused on the sweat drenched, oh so beautiful man in front of her. "You know he'll have someone else take care of it."
Ichabod glanced up at her with a half hearted smile; one that caused her heart to constrict. He was just so enticing, his hair down around his shoulders and his shirt hanging low in the front, revealing his hard, defined chest, that, suddenly, all she wanted was to have him again; to have him love her in the same manner he had the night before.
She could still feel the imprints of his insistent fingers along her hips from where he'd held her close as she'd sat astride him; draining him of every ounce of passion he possessed. It had been an unplanned, dangerous encounter; one that had left her sore and desperate for more.
"It's the least I can do."
Spell around him broken, she heavily sighed at the stubborn mule knelt by the wagon wheel he was repairing, her thoughts changing as she groaned, "Ichabod..."
"I don't wish to speak of it," he tersely replied, grunting with effort as he pushed against the wagon. "He's my best friend and I'm repairing his wagon wheel. It's what friend's do for one another."
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes and kick at the ground in a tantrum, she asked, "Is this because of last night?"
He cut her a hard glance as he picked up a hammer and began beating against the knobs. "I said I didn't wish to speak of it."
"We made love, Ichabod," she said, ignoring his attempts to put this conversation on hold. "That's what two people who love each other do with one another."
"They don't generally do such things when their best friend, who they're repetitively betraying, is just beyond earshot."
The bite in his voice did nothing to halt her.
"I hate when you act like this; like you and I are doing something irrevocably sinful. We're not betraying Abraham. I have no obligation to him."
He tossed his hammer to the dirt as he rammed his arm into the wagon with a grunt; his eyes still boring into hers. "Perhaps, not, but I still feel wrong about it."
Pursing her lips, she gripped the mug more tightly; attempting to keep her emotions in check and not throw it at him. "It felt wrong to make love to me?"
Shakily running a hand through his hair, he gave an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "Don't twist my words, Katrina. We've had this conversation a dozen times before. You know how I feel."
"Well, perhaps, we need to have it another dozen times as you're still being stubborn about it."
A flash of irritation swept over his face as he stood and took a hard step toward her. "For the love of God, Katrina-"
"Ichabod!"
While Ichabod quickly spun around at the high pitched voice, she had to step to the side in order to see past him only to find a woman she didn't recognize grinning ear to ear as she closed her umbrella.
"Mary," he said, his voice startled and more off beat than she'd ever heard it. "Uhm..."
Before he could get another word out, the woman had flung herself around him, leaving his arms flailing out to the sides, clearly conflicted over what to do with them.
Confused over this situation and, honestly, a little miffed at the woman's audacity to place her hands on Ichabod, she listened as Ichabod stumbled over his words.
"This is... unexpected."
Mary, as she'd been called, was practically bouncing on her toes as Ichabod half turned to look at her with wide eyes to which she only raised her eyebrows in return. If he didn't start explaining soon, she was going to light him on fire; consequences be damned.
"Uhm... Mary Wells," he began as he awkwardly gestured between them. "Katrina van Tassel, a treasured friend of mine."
Despite her bubbling irritation, she forced a smile for Mary, doing her best to recall where she'd heard Ichabod mention that name before. She knew quite a few Mary's, but couldn't place this one at all. She was positive she'd never met the woman before as she practically screamed of someone hard to forget.
The painstakingly detailed stitching of her dress spoke of a high birth, which was hard to avoid as she twisted and turned the fabric around her, clearly unconcerned about the material's well being. Even she, a woman who hardly cared for such materialistic things, knew how a dress of such cost should be treated. The fact that Mary was treating it otherwise spoke of the spoiled nature the woman possessed, obviously aware she could have another at any time. Such women irritated her to no end as they did nothing other than set their sex back decades at a time; reinforcing the ideas that men like Abraham held toward them.
"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Wells," she said as cheerfully as she could manage, though she likely could have put more effort into it.
"Charmed," Mary replied, barely sparing her a glance as all she seemed capable of doing was giggling and staring up at Ichabod.
If the mug in her hand hadn't shattered by now, she must be succeeding at keeping her emotions in check better than she thought.
Ichabod, hands nervously twisting, went on, "Mary is a dear friend from London."
Ah, she thought, finally realizing where she'd heard the name. Ichabod had had a mouthful to say about his childhood friend turned former fiancé when they'd been divvying up their romantic inclinations one night as they'd laid in bed together, pulling every last detail they could manage out of one another. Apparently, Mary was in a league all of her own; a league Ichabod had spoken of being glad to now be departed from the company of, but that didn't explain what was she doing here.
"I've only just arrived."
Ichabod stared at her as though there may be more, which the woman clearly didn't catch onto, forcing him to ask, "And you came for...?"
"You, Ichabod," Mary said as if it should have been obvious. "To bring you home so you can finally make an honest woman of me."
Eyebrows shooting up as the woman took an even closer stance to Ichabod, she couldn't help but ask, "You're engaged?"
Ichabod turned toward her with a pleading expression, but she was too enthralled with what was happening in front of her to care. This woman was either completely touched, or Ichabod had been less than truthful when saying he'd ended his engagement to Mary before departing for the colonies. As she highly doubted the latter, that left only the former, which had her nearly about to choke on laughter.
"Promised to each other since we were children," Mary went on as she reached up to push Ichabod's hair back, something that ceased her amusement altogether and took to leaving her irked instead. "Our father's have long been close companions."
For his part, Ichabod didn't appear to have a clue as to what to do with himself as he glanced between them with a forced smile; his blue eyes darting everywhere but directly into her gaze.
"But..." he went on, his voice rattled. "Mary and I have not seen each other since I departed for the colonies."
At that, Mary bit her lip and looked at her as though she wished to be alone with Ichabod. As if that would ever happen. The poor woman had no idea just how close she was to being thrown across the yard.
Ichabod cleared his throat and turned to her. "Katrina, I uhm..."
The pleading in his gaze was so pitiful as to have her torn between laughing at him, wrapping him in a hug, and slinging him across the yard along with Mary. His panic was clear in his blue eyes, but she wasn't exactly sure what he wanted her to do. She couldn't tell the woman to leave, nor did she intend to invite her to stay. Either choice was a definite negative in regards to her and Ichabod's relationship.
Forcing a smile, she chose to do the proper thing for once and said, "Why don't I give the two of you a chance to reacquaint?"
Ichabod's eyes widened considerably, but she only raised an eyebrow in return, fingers clenching the mug, and headed for the side door of the carriage house.
Pulling Ichabod's old shirt over her head, the one that had seen her through some of the toughest nights of her life, she placed her hand on the doorknob and did her best to mentally prepare herself for whatever mood she found him in; if she found him at all. The worst thing she imagined could happen was him being absent from their bedroom entirely. It would break the last threads of her spirit.
When she finally forced herself to open the door, she thankfully found him sitting in his usual place in the bed with his back to the headboard, his gaze trained on something in his hands.
To her disappointment, he never acknowledged her entrance; something that caused her heart to fall further into despair as the fear of his disgust consumed her. Now, unable to help the hesitation in her step, she made her way toward the bed and slowly crawled into her side; being careful not to jostle the bed as she feared bothering him to the point that he would abandon her.
Upon pulling the covers over her legs, she leaned against the headboard and situated her hands in her lap; unsure of what else to do, or if she should do anything at all. What was she supposed to say? In the past, it hadn't always been best to press him; to force him to talk. Most of the time, he simply needed a little time to sort his thoughts out before he revealed them to her. All she usually had to do was wait, something she was awful at doing.
Tentatively turning her head to stare at him, she took in his defeated posture and prayed she wasn't about to make a disastrous mistake.
"Are you angry with me?" she began before adding through a broken whisper, "Did you not miss me?"
His gaze jerked toward her; the blue eyes she so adored filled with obvious surprise. "What?"
"You-" She dropped her gaze to the blanket she was currently worrying between her fingers. "All I want is for you to hold me, but you've barely even looked at me and, while I was in the bathroom, I kept hoping you'd come to me. I-I didn't even want to be in the shower without you. I just- I just wanted-"
The bed shifted and she choked on a sob when his body pressed into her side; his arm slipping around her belly.
"I missed you every moment," he whispered against her ear, his breath warm and familiar. "I truly thought I'd go mad without you."
Finally working up the courage to look at him, she found his eyes swirling with that love she so craved. It was enough to help her reciprocate his touch.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she whispered as she clutched at the arm around her; her fingers digging into his flesh. "I thought-"
"Hell, itself, couldn't have stopped me from finding you," he swore as he pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. "I'd have done anything; paid any price."
Breathing beginning to labor, she turned and sought out his lips; needing to feel him; needing his love and the purity she always received from his touch.
His fingers dug into her side as he pulled her closer while his other hand lifted to cup the back of her head; his fingers sinking into her wet hair.
Their kiss grew insistent; needy. It was deep and warm and everything she'd prayed to feel again; everything she'd been sure she'd only experience in dreams for the rest of her miserable existence.
When his tongue traced her lips, she parted for him without hesitation; welcoming his touch within her. She longed for it; would have even begged for it had he asked.
Unfortunately, before she could draw him further into the pit of darkness she was trying to use him as leverage to crawl out of, he pulled back, his lips tugging at her bottom lip until he was breathing against her through heavy pants.
"I never want to leave your arms again," she greedily whispered, pressing her forehead to his. "Please, don't ever let me go, my love."
When he winced as he tried to wrap his arms around her, she lifted her gaze to his and found his eyes squeezed shut; a look of pain on his face.
"What's wrong?"
He winced and grabbed her hand to rest along his side. Eyes following the path their hands had taken, she took matters into her own hands and felt along his ribs; her eyes widening when she felt the swollen knots.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she exclaimed as she scooted down in the bed to inspect his bruised ribs. "Did you go to the hospital?"
"I awoke there," he whispered softly as she guided him to rest against the headboard. "The doctor's wanted me to remain there, but... I had to find you."
"That was nearly a week ago, Ichabod," she scolded as she searched the rest of his body; taking in the numerous cuts and bruises she hadn't even noticed before. "What did they say about your injuries?"
"Bruised ribs and a broken arm."
Her eyes flew to his as burning guilt took hold of her. How could she have been so selfish as to not notice? "You broke your arm? Why isn't it in a brace?"
"Katrina..." he whispered as he laid a hand to her hip; his eyes pleading. "Please, just heal me."
With a heavy sigh, she did as he asked, running her hands over his upper body to make sure she covered everything she could find. He was so tense; every muscle clenched and knotted.
Eyes falling closed, she absorbed everything that needed taking away. That is, until something hard tapped her shoulder, pulling her gaze to find her sapphire dangling from the hand he now had in her hair. The sight of it sparked light within her.
"I thought I'd lost it," she whispered, her voice cracking as she touched the jewel. "Where did you find it?"
When she looked up at him, her joy at him having found the prized necklace overtaking every part of her face, she found him staring at the jewel with a look she couldn't read. All she knew was that it certainly wasn't joy.
"She saw us."
"Who?" she tentatively asked as she watched his face for any sign of what he was feeling.
"That night, when I returned to you after speaking with Mary," he said, running his finger over the sapphire. "You were jealous and I was angry."
"I remember," she softly offered, the night clear in her mind.
"We made love behind the carriage house," he went on. "We thought we heard something."
"You think it was Mary?" she asked as she shifted closer to him, her hand stroking his arm. "Ichabod, you can't know that."
A tear streaked his cheek as he shook his head. "But I do. I found her umbrella the next morning and just assumed she'd left it behind, but, now that I've went over it in my mind, I remember she had it in her hand when she stormed off after telling me I was to return with her."
"Well?" she asked as he finally made it back to where she was leaning against the wagon; arms crossed with a pout on her lips.
As the light had disappeared from the evening sky, she'd watched them walk up the road from the house's front window. All had been fine as they'd seemed to be in light conversation, possibly reminiscing over their entwined childhoods, or at least that's what she kept telling herself. The idea that they were doing anything else but that was enough to spark jealousy deep in her soul, which was something that unnerved her as she'd never been one prone to such feelings.
Perhaps, it was simply because she'd never been in a position that had permitted the feeling, or, perhaps, it was because Mary shared a part of Ichabod's life she could never touch; never honestly know. She wasn't permitted the freedom to walk arm in arm with him that freely, or whisper sweet nothings in his ear at parties.
Instead of those sorts of moments, she had to keep herself at a distance; never showing him favoritism over Abraham. No matter what she told her love, she was aware of the fact that while she truly didn't owe Abraham anything, she always had to be on his side when it came down to it, lest she show too much loyalty toward Ichabod; something Abraham would surely pitch a fit over; maybe even punish her love for somehow.
Yes, she supposed, for the first time, she really was jealous. Ichabod had never spent time in another woman's company. At least, not while in her presence. When he was around her, he was always all about her. He'd never chosen another woman's time over hers; never even really looked at another woman over her. So, the idea that Mary had seen him grow up, been able to call herself his fiancé, had experienced her families approval to join her life with Ichabod's, made her truly feel like some sort of mistress.
Just before the light had faded too much for her to see them and begin irrationally imagining what they were doing without her knowledge, they'd paused and taken to pointing and gesturing rather heatedly amongst themselves.
Her curiosity had been piqued, turned from jealousy to a wish to know what they were talking about, but she'd firmly held her ground and not gone to him the way she'd desperately wanted.
Then, before long, Mary had stormed off, leaving Ichabod to stand in her wake, watching as she disappeared up the deserted road.
"She's demanded I join her at the docks for departure in the morning."
He looked weary as he twisted his hands in front of him; his gaze downcast and clearly conflicted.
"Did she?" she asked in amusement. "She's quite the woman. I can't imagine why you supposedly broke your engagement to her. You must be dying to return to England in her company."
With a roll of his eyes, he looked over at her with a testy expression. "There's no supposedly and I'm not going anywhere."
"Did you inform her of that?" she inquired with raised eyebrows, knowing full well he didn't.
Ichabod was always one to procrastinate. She'd often imagined him as a boy, rising early in the morning to complete the studies he should have finished the night before. He was just so kind and considerate that sometimes she wondered how he had ever made it this far in life. Of course, he also bore a fair amount of fear when it came to change, but who didn't? It was a very natural trait.
"No," he answered as he turned to lay his hand on the wagon and look over his work. "I'll tell her in the morning."
"Oh, so you're going to meet her at the docks?" she asked, her tone heightening due to his failure to just do what he needed. "Why didn't you tell her while you were with her? You're going to allow her to think she's won."
"Won what, Katrina?" he exclaimed as he turned to glare at her; his blue eyes laced with contempt. "As far as anyone knows, I'm unattached; free and marriageable. It's not as though many women look at you as competition for my affections what with the way you allow Abraham to put his hands all over you as though you're his. Half this damned town thinks he's bedding you and it's not as if I can correct them; tell them that you're mine; that I'm the one who touches you; that I'd murder anyone who ever tried to take what was mine. No, instead, I'm forced to sit and listen to them speak of you as though you're his; as though I'm someone you'd never even consider as a prospective husband."
Taken aback at the heated conviction in his tone, she felt her mouth slightly drop open. "Ichabod-"
"She told me you'd never have me," he muttered lowly as he defiantly kicked at the wheel he'd been repairing.
Tentatively stepping closer to his anger riddled form, she gently laid her hand over his which was gripping the side of the wagon. "Why would she say that? Did you tell her about us?"
A small bubble of fear rose in her. She and Ichabod had had one too many disagreements on the secrecy involved in their relationship. If he ever told someone...
"Of course not," he groaned with a helpless glance up the road. "But she must have noticed something. After I told her she and I could never be, she went on to accuse you of stealing my heart; of bewitching me into falling in love with you."
The way he was standing, all stiff, yet forlorn and weary, pulled at her heart. She could make out his downcast eyes in the glow of the lantern, causing her to take another step toward him and press solidly against him, hoping contact with her would soothe his tenseness.
"Well, she wasn't wrong about that was she?"
He glanced down at her body pressed into his side before shooting another glance up the road; one she knew all too well.
"You shouldn't stand so close," he said as he took a full step away from her; disconnecting from her entirely. "Aren't you the one always carrying on about me being your dirty secret?"
Clenching her jaw as all pity for him ceased, she icily replied, "I hate when you act like this."
"Act like what?" he asked as he rounded on her; eyes bathed with daring. "Like a man who has one woman practically begging him to wed her and another refusing with her every other breath; leaving me looking like some pathetic fool begging for your attention?"
With narrowed eyes, she turned on her heel to return indoors. She absolutely refused to allow him to drag her into his toddler like tantrums.
However, before she got more than a few feet away, he'd firmly grasped her upper arm and took to dragging her past the wagon toward the back of the house.
Upon their abruptly rounding the corner, she firmly bit, "I have no desire to further converse with you."
"That's fine," he said as he let her go only to wrap one hand around her waist and place the other alongside her neck while forcefully backing her into the wall. "I had no desire to converse with you in the first place."
With that, he possessively pressed his body flush to hers and captured her lips in a punishing kiss; one that took her breath and left her blindly reaching out to support herself with his upper arms.
If she wasn't so angry with him, she might have already praised the heavens for his turn in mood. She loved when he took control and passionately loved her. With them both fuming, she imagined a few more marks were sure to be left come morning; signs of their intense joining she could cling to when they were parted by time and distance.
As he hungrily devoured her lips, his hands began possessively sliding up and down her dress; roughly pressing into her through the material as she held onto him.
He didn't show signs of releasing her anytime soon, leaving her to wonder just how angry he was. Not a full hour ago, he'd been attempting to guilt her with the fact that she'd tempted him into making love to her on Abraham's property the night before. Yet, now he was the one instigating such an act.
Not that she was complaining. She'd allow him to take her anywhere; at any time he chose.
His fingers found her laces where he began insistently slipping the material loose while his mouth never let up on hers; never even permitted her the air she was beginning to need.
Moaning into his kiss, she yanked his shirt from his trousers and searched out the skin beneath, sliding her hands along his sides and chest; enjoying the contact it provided. He was so hard and warm; leaving the planes of his skin open to her lust filled exploration.
When he finally had her laces loose enough, he parted the folds of her dress and dropped his hot mouth to her chest where he began laying open mouthed kisses along her skin; the burn of it sending pulses straight to her core.
Finally sucking in the air she'd began to feel desperate for, she brought one shaky hand up, tangling it in his hair and pulling him closer; delighting in the way his thick thigh slipped between her legs and placed pressure on her hungry center.
"Ichabod," she whispered as she helplessly ground down on him; her mouth falling open at the sweet friction. "I don't want to wait."
Her words were all it took for him to begin slipping the buttons loose on his trousers, his nimble fingers keenly accustomed to their rushed unclothing, before he eased himself free; already hard and heavy.
Hastily shifting her dress up, she tangled her fingers in her skirts and tugged them out of the way so he could press into her; placing his cock right at her slick entrance.
She was ready, beyond ready if she was being honest. Her thighs were damp and her center was throbbing with that need only he could thoroughly meet. With Ichabod having been so close all day, she was surprised she hadn't dripped down her leg by this point as she'd forgone knickers that morning with the knowledge that they'd never manage to keep their hands free of one another. They never could. Their joining tended to be an inevitability depending upon the time of day and who was nearby.
When he thrust into her; his pulsing length finding its home in her welcoming warmth, he resumed their earlier frenzied kiss; this time even slipping his tongue between her lips; the slick feel of it coating her lips as he flicked it back and forth.
Now rapidly rutting between her legs, she held him close with her hands scratching under the back of his shirt; teasing her fingers along his rippling muscles.
If only she could bottle the feelings he stirred within her. She wanted to stay here, wrapped in his tight embrace as he lost his control; hammering himself inside her; making her his.
Their act was becoming so animalistic, so primal, that she had to bite into his shoulder to keep from screaming.
Arms locked under his shoulders, she dug her nails into his shoulder blades, holding him tightly as he grunted into her neck; his hot breath sparking the heat in her belly in ways she never wanted to lose.
Every thrust was hitting places in her that had her core pulsing; begging to have that ache fulfilled.
When he filled her to the hilt and rolled his hips, ensuring he touched every reachable inner part of her, she tossed her head back into the building as her mouth fell open in a soundless scream.
"Oh God," she moaned as she desperately wrapped her thigh over his hip. "Right there."
The pressure against her clit when he repeated the motion, along with the buildup of slick between them, left her dizzy as she buried her face in his sweaty neck to keep from alerting the entire countryside as to what they were doing.
However, the guttural grunts he was now releasing into her ear had the next words which came tumbling from her lips laced with doubt.
"Are you completely furious with me again?"
His rough thrusts faltered as he hotly pressed his mouth to her ear and groaned a soft, "Yes."
Nodding her understanding, she blindly reached for the hand tangled in her skirts and threaded their fingers together before lifting his knuckles to her lips.
"I am yours, my love; only ever yours."
His forehead pressed against hers as his hips slowed to a gentle roll between her abused thighs; the pressure less animalistic and more adoring. "I know."
"Then, will you touch me like you know that?"
He chuckled, the sound filled with lightness, and whispered against her lips, "You and I both know that's not what you desire."
Before she could respond, the snap of a branch not far away had them both freezing in place as they disengaged their mouths and searched the night; acutely aware of the scandalous position they were currently in.
He leaned away from her slightly and glanced around the corner; his body tense with energy.
"Is anyone there?" she whispered, watching his face, which she could barely make out in the dark.
With a shake of his head, he continued to glance around as he remained buried deep within her; the pounding of his heart thumping against her hand as she held it over him.
"I don't think so," he answered as his eyes continued to search the night.
Satisfied that if anyone were there, they would have announced themselves by now, she cupped his cheek and turned his head back to hers before recapturing his lips.
Eyes falling to the tiny scratches the branches had left on her hands, she said, "She came back."
"She saw us," he whispered with a cracked voice. "She saw what we were doing. Then, she... she must have run off, distraught, and somehow..."
His head fell back against the headboard as he choked out a strangled, "It's my doing she drowned."
"Oh, my love," she said as she carefully crawled into his lap and cupped his wet face. "You can't think like that. This wasn't your fault."
He shook his head as he clutched the sapphire more firmly in his grasp, prompting her to lean her forehead to his. What she wouldn't give to have them be whole; free of all the past torments that continued to chase them.
"You're a good man, Ichabod. If you'd known-"
"I should have told her the truth," he firmly objected. "Our secret... It destroyed lives."
Not having that, she gripped his chin and titled his face to hers; taking in his tear streaked and splotchy cheeks. "No. We've already been through this. Everyone has choices to make. You can't take their choice away by taking it onto your shoulders as blame. Mary made the choice to get on a ship and come for you, knowing full well it was over between the two of you. And Abraham..."
Trailing off as her own torments returned, hands stroking her and blonde hair tickling her face, she noticed Ichabod's shoulders stiffen as his fingers dug deeply into her thighs; the pressure painful.
"What did he do to you?"
Unable to help her tensing over him, she shook her head, desperate for him to not take her down this path. "We're not going to talk about that right now."
"You have to tell me," he demanded as more tears streaked down his face. "If you don't tell me, then, I'll imagine it and... please, don't force me to imagine it, Katrina. The nightmares will be enough to endure. I'm already tormented with them."
Eyes falling closed, she sucked in a deep, shaky breath and fixed her gaze on the sapphire in his hand; the one she adored and considered so out of place while unlocked from her neck.
"He didn't rape me," she began, wanting, no needing, him to know that first and foremost. "Not completely."
If there was one thing that they made clear tonight, it was that Abraham von Brunt had found no release within her. She harbored no seed of his and hopefully never would.
"You were in your underwear," he protested as his breathing intensified. "And you weren't... The way you were acting-"
"Mary interrupted him," she assured as she finally lifted her gaze to his wide, panic filled, eyes. "She arrived just in time."
"That's not it," he pressed, his eyes darting all over her face; a certain, crazed glaze over them. "I saw the bite marks on your breasts; the finger prints on your hips. You were terrified when I found you, Katrina, and you didn't want to be held in place. You were afraid of me."
Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt her chest constrict as a sob tried to claw its way out of her.
She couldn't do this; couldn't watch him listen to this anymore than she could share it with him. It was too much. They'd never recover from it.
"Katrina, please, just tell me," he pleaded, his hand cupping one side of her face while the other snaked around her back, cocooning her in his embrace. "Whatever it is, whatever he did, please..."
"He touched me," she whispered, eyes still clenched shut as the nightmarish words began escaping from her.
"Where?"
The dread in his voice was thick and it did nothing to lessen the sting to her heart. This was going to destroy him. He was too good a person to be able to handle it.
"Katrina," he pressed, desperation in his voice and touch.
"Everywhere," she breathed, unsure if any sound even escaped her. "In-inside me."
His fingers tangled in the side of her shirt, pulling the material tight around her body. The action caused her to finally open her eyes and take in his gaze which was fixated on her neck where she knew she had a mark; a red one with the faintest impression of teeth. She's stared at it for the longest time while in the bathroom; wishing it away.
For his part, Ichabod's eyes were dark and his body was stiff. He looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown and she knew there was little she could do to stop it.
"Mary interrupted him, Ichabod," she said as she slid her hands to his neck, desperate for him to see the truth in her eyes. "She stopped him before I-"
His eyes jerked to hers, leaving her to abruptly stop what she'd been about to say. What had she been thinking? Why would she ever utter such a thing?
"Before you what?" he asked barely above a whisper; his blue eyes void of the brightness she so loved; instead, filled with near panic as they darted between hers.
Not wanting to go anywhere near that path, that disgusting, demon riddled road, she shook her head, but he only gripped her shirt more firmly; the material becoming almost suffocatingly tight. Anger rippled off every inch of his body and she was becoming too distraught to even breathe in the midst of it.
"Before you what, Katrina?"
"He was touching me," she confessed as she pressed her face into his neck, unable to watch the disgust flicker over his face. "All I wanted was for him to hurt me, but he didn't. He wanted me to betray you. He held me down and put his hand between my-"
She couldn't even bring herself to say it.
Instead, she burrowed even further against him, drawing her thighs up and around his hips as she wrapped her arms around his chest. She needed to be close to him; needed to feel safe in his arms. She wanted to disappear to another time; one where none of this had happened; a place where they were two normal people far from this evil world they dwelled in.
"Please, oh God, please, don't hate me," she hysterically wept against his skin; clutching at every inch of him she could grab onto. "I swear, I didn't betray you. Mary stopped him. She stopped him, Ichabod, I swear."
He still wasn't touching her; not voluntarily anyway. She was wrapped completely around him, leaving not a breath between them, but he wasn't returning her embrace in the least. If his heartbeat hadn't been hammering against her chest through the shirt she was wearing, she might have thought he wasn't breathing at all.
Now, uncontrollably shaking to the point that she was sure she was breaking to pieces, she finally felt his hands slide up and down her back, his fingers scratching against her shirt.
"I'm so sorry, I left you there," he whispered, his voice hoarse; broken. "This is my fault."
Shaking her head as best she could within the tight, sticky space she'd burrowed into, she desperately cupped his face and pulled back to find his cheeks soaked with tears; his blue eyes void of hope. "You didn't. I forced you to leave."
"We can't be apart again, Katrina," he said through choked sobs. "Please, promise me we'll never be without one another again."
Leaning her forehead to his, she whispered, "I wish I could, my love. You have no idea how much I wish I could make that promise."
The next thing she knew, his lips were insistently sealed against hers as his hands fumbled up the sides of her shirt, brushing over her skin and leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake.
He felt so warm and safe that she imagined she could dissolve into his arms right then and there.
Almost hypnotically dropping her hands to his shoulders, she took to needily exploring his back as his lips sought after hers like she held all the oxygen left in the world.
"Ichabod," she whispered when he finally popped free of her mouth to begin trailing wide, open mouthed kisses along her neck. "I'm yours. I've always been yours."
Everything was becoming so hot to the touch.
His skin was already heated and, with the added effect of his impatient mouth on her neck, his hot breath was awakening every nerve in her body, honestly making her feel like she was burning alive.
Tangling fistfuls of her hands in his long hair, she boldly rolled her hips against his lap in desperate need for friction on her aching center, finding that relief was quickly becoming her only concern; her only thought.
As her movements picked up to an uncontrollable pace, he huskily groaned against her skin while his long fingers dug into her shoulders, pulling her closer as the scratchy feel of his beard followed his kisses up her neck; leaving no part of her smooth flesh unattended.
Then, upon one particularly deep grind of her hips into his welcoming crotch, he made a guttural sound deep in his throat that had his hands abruptly falling to her waist; insistence exuding from his grip.
She followed his lead by going up on her knees so he could hastily push the covers as well as his sleep pants down his legs, leaving his cock to spring up and stiffly press against his belly; the sight of it already thick with desire causing her to whimper with need.
He wasn't disgusted with her. He wanted her; was already on his way to be completely hard for her.
"Ichabod."
His eyes flickered up to hers, dark with passion, as he hooked his fingers in her thin panties and tugged them down and off her legs before dropping them to the floor.
There needn't be any time with buildup. No, what they needed was to be whole again; to wash away the past and reunite in the present.
However, before he did anything else, he ceased his quick movements and gently placed her necklace, which was still tangled between his fingers, around her neck for what she hoped was the last time.
Eyes falling to the sapphires home against her chest, she settled in his lap, her hands now cupping his cheeks as she held him close.
"My beautiful, Katrina," he whispered, lovingly sliding a hand through her hair. "Mine."
"Yours," she confirmed as she stared into his crystal, blue eyes. "Always yours."
He pressed another thorough kiss to her lips, his hastiness returning as his tongue met hers with little resistance.
Unable to stand another moment without it, she reached for his hand and guided it between them, directing his fingers to rest in the thin curls between her thighs.
"Touch me," she breathed against his lips as she pressed him harder against her; leaving no doubt about what she wanted. "Please, touch me."
His blue eyes stared straight into hers as he crooked his finger between her slick folds, delving into her slit and slowly dragging upward.
With a shuddered breath at his intimate touch, she kept her hand over his as the other lifted to rest at his neck and hold his gaze on hers, hyper aware of his pounding pulse beneath her fingers.
His stare was intense, unfaltering. Everything within it screamed of his observance; of his clear intent to watch her find her release. A part of her was unnerved by it while another part of her found herself wanting to prove herself to him. She had to come undone for him; only him.
His finger gently circled her clit, adoring it in that way he did, before dragging down through her folds and dipping into her entrance, applying the slightest of pressures.
She knew he'd repeat the process, but, rather than allowing him to pull back from her, she pushed her fingers over his and guided him within her soaking entrance until he had one finger knuckle deep; snugly encased inside her.
The pressure was pulsing and it unexpectantly brought a flash of memory to the forefront of her mind, one of blonde hair hanging in her face as a thick, scarred finger impatiently pumped her, but she squeezed her eyes shut and forcefully shoved it back. He wasn't taking this from her. No one would ever take Ichabod's touch from her.
"Open your eyes," he growled as his free hand gripped her jaw and jerked her face up, causing her eyes to pop open and take in his swirling blue ones.
His anger had returned in full force. She didn't even have to look at him to know it. The resentment was present in the way he began pumping his finger deeper within her; nothing sweet or caring left in the gesture.
She had to fix it; had to show him he was her only. That the other was an errant thought; a bad taste that meant nothing except to remind her of how precious the two of them were.
"I want to cum for you," she whispered, her lips teasingly brushing his. "Make me cum for you, my love; only you."
A shuddered groan came from deep in his throat as he stretched her, insistently pumping his fingers in and out, even adding a second in as she continued to open for him, her juices slipping out and down her folds; coating both their hands.
"Ichabod," she breathed as she worried her lip between her teeth. "Don't stop."
His hot, panting breath on her face added to the heat coiling in her belly; the aching throb in her center. She was so close.
When his fingers slipped out of her, soaked in her arousal, and returned to sliding up and down her folds, eventually pressing into her clit and circling, she gripped his hand with hers and rocked her hips back and forth; the friction causing her eyes to roll back in her head.
"Fuck," she whispered as she began to pant and clutch his shoulder while rubbing her chest against his; her nipples, hard and stiff, scratching against the shirt between them; every inch that their bodies pressed together moving the feeling she was searching for further along.
Then, his palm pressed against her mound, making her gasp as she circled over him faster; the slippery sounds of her juices spreading along his hand making her body heat.
Fingers desperately gripping along his shoulder and neck, she gasped out his name, allowing it to slip between his parted lips and into his hot cavern.
Almost at the edge of release, she felt his fingers tighten at her hip to stop her from rocking as he began circling her clit again, this time harder than before.
"Please, don't stop," she begged against his lips, praying this wasn't some cruel dream.
Then, just as she began crashing, that blinding heat overwhelming her as she convulsed above him, he did the most Ichabod like thing she could have asked for.
He softly pressed his lips to her forehead as he wrapped his free arm around her, engulfing her in his embrace; his mouth moving to her ear and whispering his love. In a matter of seconds, he'd turned something that could have been perceived as animalistic and without feeling into the sweet gesture of a lover.
By the time the overwhelming sensations died down enough for her to open her eyes, his fingers were barely moving around her throbbing clit as he stared up at her; his blue eyes searching.
Not wanting to talk for fear of what might be said, she let go of his hand and grasped his cock; wrapping her fingers around the velvety length and twisting them upward.
A low groan bubbled up from his lungs as his head collapsed against the headboard; his face contorting with unquestionable pleasure.
Lifting her hand to clear his hair from his face, she raised up on her knees and pressed an open mouthed series of kisses along his jaw as her other hand attended to the throbbing length in her palm; twisting and squeezing it in rhythmic circles.
His breathing deepened as he sat there, his eyes clenched shut, his mouth cracked open, and his hands clutched around her hips. He was so trusting of her; so open to whatever she had planned.
She, then, lifted just enough to align him with her entrance; allowing his cock to slip through her slick as she bit her lip to keep from just plunging down on him.
It felt so good to know she was in control; that he would do whatever she wanted. He was hers for the taking whenever she was ready and not a moment before.
That was one reason she loved him so desperately to the point of distraction. He was hers; wholly and completely. He knew what she needed even when she didn't.
Twisting her fingers around his shaft, she leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Tell me."
The bite of his fingers into her hips burned as he whispered, "I love you."
Allowing his words to wash through her, she slowly eased over him, taking him in and cherishing every moment of the pressure that came with him filling her completely.
When he was wholly encompassed, she allowed the breath she'd been holding to easily slide through her lips as his hands smoothly glided up the back of her shirt and pulled her chest flush to his; his blue eyes dark as he sat up to hold her.
"Is this what you want, Katrina?" he asked, breaking the moment, his hot breath washing over her face as his eyes glistened. "Is it making you feel better?"
Brow furrowing at his sudden tears, she shook her head and cupped his face, "Ichabod-"
"Because I feel broken," he whispered, his body holding still within hers even as his hands shook against her skin. "Help me. It-"
His breathing hitched as he clutched her tighter to his chest. "It hurts."
Lost for what to do, she ran her fingers though his hair and began pressing chaste kisses along his cheeks. "I've always loved you and, whatever happens, I will always love only you. Nothing and no one will ever come between us again."
A strangled sob escaped him as he lifted a hand to her face. "You swear?"
Eyes focused completely on his, she whispered, "I'll destroy anyone who dares to separate us. I don't care who, or what, it is."
Thumb stroking her cheek, he leaned his forehead to hers and dropped his free hand to the sapphire tangled in the collar of her shirt.
"Whisper your love to me," she begged as her fingers twisted in his dark hair; tugging his gaze back to hers. "Tell me everything."
As they began a slow rhythm of hips rolling against one another, he did exactly as she'd asked; every word she'd ever wanted to hear falling from his lips as he pressed them against her ear.
She was his and he was hers; the rest of the world be damned if it thought otherwise.
I thought about breaking that one in half, but couldn't find an appropriate place so you guys and gals got 12,000 words in one chapter. I hope you liked it and it wasn't too much to digest in one go. For future reference, let me know if the chapters get too long and I'll figure something else out ;) Also, I'd appreciate your thoughts on this chapter if you feel led. Thanks for reading!
Next up: Codependency issues. A conversation with the ex. A bun in the oven.