This chapter warrants the M rating as it contains mature content. Read at your discretion
19 - Passion of An Archmage
Next day as I emerged from the water closet, I just caught sight of her entering the bedroom with a tray and placing it on the dresser. I followed quietly, letting my robe slide from my shoulders to the floor as I slid in under the sheets, watching her as she opened the window. I plumped and prodded the pillows so I could sit and observe her better. I was pleased to notice my shoulder no longer hurt and overall my aches had lessened considerably.
I turned my eyes towards her again. The sight of her was overwhelming. She wore a sea green robe which wrapped around her and tied at the waist with fine pleated cords. The material, as delicate and fine as the voiles that fluttered inwards on the late spring breeze, danced around her form.
She turned slowly, her eyes finding mine. Her smile was soft, a little teasing. My eyes drank her in as she moved towards me. I could see her slender figure beneath the delicate fabric - the long legs as they carried her towards the bed, the outline of her rather flimsy underwear, the sway of her hips, the gentle bounce of her breasts. My senses around her were heightened, I noticed everything in the minutest detail and my body responded in the only way it knew how. With a sheepish grin, I placed another pillow over my lap and saw her smirk at the action.
She paused at the dresser and lifted the tray. As she neared me again I could see she carried a bowl with warm water, a shaving brush and soap, my razor and a towel. Carefully, she put the tray down on the bedside table. Taking the towel, she draped it round me, protecting my chest. "Good morning," she said, the curve of her lips sending small tremors through my body.
"Morning," I replied, my voice somewhat husky. I swallowed.
Dipping a cloth in the bowl, she then dampened my face. I watched in silent admiration as she swirled the brush over the shaving soap block until the bristles were loaded. My breathing deepened when, in slow circular movements she applied the creamy foam to my cheeks, above my top lip, my jawline and neck. The soft neckline of her robe drew my eyes; the tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage too much to resist. Raising my chin with her left hand, she rested the razor against my cheek. "Trust me?" she asked.
I tore my eyes from her breasts to see her smiling, mischievously. "More than I do myself at this moment," I replied, the corners of my mouth twitching. I could not hide the tremor in my voice, but it was not from nervousness of her holding the razor against me.
She laughed lightly, then slowly pulled the razor down, keeping it at a perfect slant on my skin. The rasp of blade over stubble was the only sound in the room, other than my heart pounding in my ears - excited by her touch. She cleaned the razor on the towel, and repeated the process until she was satisfied with her work over my cheeks, philtrum and jawline. She had never done this before, but there was something profoundly sensual about her shaving me. My state of arousal was becoming almost uncomfortable, I was well aware of the rhythmic throb under the pillow.
"Darling, stop clenching your jaw," she said. "I won't cut you." She gently lifted my chin once more to access my neck.
"That's not why I'm clenching," I replied between gritted teeth. I caught a glimpse of her smirking again. She was enjoying this, although I was not entirely sure whether it was the shaving or the effect she was having on me that made her grin.
The feel of her bringing the blade up over the stubble towards my chin was erotic beyond words. She lightly ran her fingertips over the areas she had shaved to ensure she was happy with the result before taking the towel and cleaning off the excess lather. I once more glanced down her neckline as she leaned over to her side of the bed, to pick up a hand mirror. Sweet Elune! I thought. Restraint was very much bordering on impossible.
She handed me the mirror to inspect her handiwork, while she cleared away the tray to the dresser. I ran my hand over my cheeks and jaw, glancing only briefly at my face. The shave was good. Very good. I turned the mirror slightly and watched her reflection as she tidied everything on the tray.
The light from the window passed through her robe accentuating every curve beneath the fine floating fabric. I lifted my eyes to the dresser's mirror and caught her looking at me. The curve of her mouth full of promise, her eyes filled with knowing. I groaned. It was too much.
I could wait no more, I had to take her. I had to love her. I threw the blanket aside and strode over to where she stood still busying herself cleaning the razor and covering the soap bar. She stopped the minute I grabbed her hips, a small gasp escaping her lips. Leaning down to her ear, I whispered hotly, "Is Ocel sleeping?"
She looked at me in the dressing table mirror. "Gwen has taken him out for the morning. She won't be back until after lunch," she replied, her voice ending in a mere breath.
I groaned again, pleased that we had precious time alone. Moving my hand around her waist I turned her to face me. Her eyes were dark, vibrant. Shifting my gaze down, her tongue coated her lips, making them moist. The act almost made me fold. My fingers dug into her hips pulling her to me, and I focused on the promise of pleasure beneath her robe. I kissed her, hard, forcefully, my tongue invading her mouth. She responded hungrily, pushing against me, her hands clawing through my hair.
Pulling back, my eyes moved down to the pleated ties that held her robe closed. Grabbing the thin cords I pulled them apart, then let the thin straps slip from her shoulders. The robe fell soundlessly to the floor in soft folds. I tried to suppress my eagerness. My hands swept over her hips, waist and continued up, until I reached her breasts. As I cupped them in my hands my need for her roared through every fibre of my being. The feel of her soft skin drove me wild; the pert, dark nipples demanding my attention.
My hands moved down around her back until my fingers squeezed the soft flesh of her buttocks. I lifted and pushed her back onto the surface of the dresser. Our eyes met for a heated moment. Her need seemed as desperate as mine, the dark almost black irises containing a hunger which matched my own. Again my mouth crashed over hers as my fingers came back up to tease and pluck at her nipples. Her sighs were swallowed in the kiss.
I broke contact brusquely, moving my mouth to her neck and down to her breasts. I could hear her moan as I took first one nipple in my mouth, cupping her other breast in my hand, squeezing her gently. I moved my lips to the other. Her body felt divine. She sighed my name, urging me on, pleading. My tongue flicked the hardened bud, I could feel it pucker more within my mouth. I became aware her hand had closed around my member, pulling on me, steering me towards her. I could delay no longer. I was ravenous. The urgency and the agony of longing had reached its peak.
I pulled her back down and spun her round impetuously, gripping the backs of her hands, pinning them to the wooden surface of the dresser. I nipped the top of her shoulder with my teeth, then kissed it, allowing my tongue to trace up her neck to just below her earlobe. I remembered that drove her crazy. Her reflection confirmed my memory, her eyes closed and lips slightly parted in a soft smile, offering her neck for more.
The need to dominate her, possess her, own her, was urgent. I dropped my hands to the lacy rim of her panties. Curling my fingers round the narrow band I tugged hard, groaning with satisfaction as I felt them rip then come away in my hand. She gasped. Grinning at her in the mirror, I cast the ruined fabric to the floor.
Fixated on our reflections again, I watched her as my hands caressed the tops of her thighs, moving up until I felt her soft mound. I probed within. She was slick, ready. Her moans of flagitious desire were like a drug to me, making my hunger for her completely shameless. Lowering her upper body to dresser level, my hands traced down her back to her hips. She sighed, brushing herself against me, offering me her body; wanting, needing. I positioned myself at her warm, inviting place and rammed inside her. I was not gentle; such was my need to be one with her. I yanked her hips back onto me, brutal, primitive, grunting with each savage thrust, the throb of desire intensifying with every pounding I delivered. She felt sublime.
To our left, the shaving water splashed over the lip of the bowl from our heated exertion, droplets sprinkling our hands and forearms but it's slopping sounds were lost in the vocal elucidation that was our sexual frenzy. The dresser banged against the wall with every plunge, the mirror giving off our bodies' rippling reflections as it shuddered from the friction our ardent love making induced. From somewhere outside my immediate focus I could hear her little bottles of cosmetics clinking and falling onto the wooden surface. One rolled off onto the floor.
I could not tear my eyes from our images in the mirror. Her eyes still closed, her mouth moist, open, sighing. The sight of her in such ecstasy drove me on, feeding my hunger, my desire, my lust. I would climax soon, the race towards fulfillment was fast approaching. The need to be inside her had went beyond urgent, it was crucial; as if my very existence had depended on it. I continued to plough into her as if trying to lose myself within and I heard her voice escaping in sharp gasps and rapturous cries.
Her slender body trembled against mine, her forearms flat against the wooden surface and hands splayed helping her keep balance. I felt her clamp and pulse around me drawing me deeper inside, her salacity being sated. In response, the tightness in my groin suddenly imploded and my seed flooded into her. I was even more vocal as I yielded to the fervent rush of my release. I grabbed the edge of the dresser for support. My legs felt weak but I remained inside her, my thrusts slowing. The aftermath of sexual gratification flowed and ebbed over me like a warm ocean on a summers night, lapping the shore.
Spent, I leaned down, my chest heaving against her back. My hands reached for her breasts and cupped them, squeezing them gently, lovingly. The intensity of my release had almost made me collapse and I suddenly worried how my brutish carnality had made her feel. "Sorry," I panted, kissing the back of her neck and tracing my tongue along her shoulders, my eyes searching for hers in the mirror.
"For what?" she whispered breathlessly. Her reflection stared back at me; strands of long hair clamped to the side of her face, skin glistening, flushed from our passion. Her lips parted as her breathing rushed out in little bursts.
"I was too rough. I should have been tender with you." I leaned my face against the soft indentation between her shoulder blades. My brow was awash with perspiration, as was my chest.
I heard her make a long contented sound then soft laughter tumbled from her mouth. "Do you hear me complaining?" Her eyes locked with mine in the mirror again. I could not help but smile and then I planted small kisses on her shoulders. She continued. "If you insist on being tender, however ..." rolling her shoulders and sighing as my lips brushed her skin, "...we still have plenty of time."
I eased from her and turned her round. Taking her face in my hands I pulled her to me. Our mouths hovered, mere breaths from each other, mirth still playing at the corners of our lips. I felt her arms surrounding me, her fingers kneading my back. I held her, savouring the moment, her closeness, her hunger, her acceptance of me. After all we had been through in the past weeks, she was still my salvation, in oh, so many ways.
"I missed you so much," she said, a note of melancholy echoing in her voice. "I cannot begin to tell you how overjoyed I am now you have returned to me, but I can show you." Pulling away, she took my hand and guided me to the bed. She turned, kissed me softly, lightly stroking my face before she lay down and raised her arms, inviting me.
I craved more and closing my eyes, the need to be one with her consumed me once again. I loved her slowly, tenderly, ensuring she derived as much pleasure as I did, before I blissfully flowed into her for a second time. I was home. Safe. With the woman I loved more than life itself. My sanctuary. My dream. My Sarah. "I love you," I whispered against her ear as I inhaled the scent from her hair. I meant those words with everything I was, everything I could be, owned and dreamed of.
Her fingers traced over my chest. "And I you, so much more than you know." She paused, then a small chuckle fell from her lips. "Are you going to write about this in my book?" she asked, her mischievous eyes glancing up to find mine.
"You liked the journal then?" I was most pleased she had read the sentiments meant for her eyes only.
"It is beautiful, Khadgar. Thank you. So will you?"
"Do you want me to?" I smiled and pulled her tighter into my arms, planting a kiss on top of her head.
"Yes." She turned her face up to meet mine. "And I want every detail," she grinned, curling her leg over mine and wrapping her arms round me.
I laughed softly. "Then your wish is my command." With her body moulded against mine, we lay for a while, dozing a little, before once more, we expressed the depth of love we felt for each other.