Bloodstone Ch. 13

Luria felt her core spasm as he tortured her nipple, biting upon it gently before suckling it deep into his mouth. His hands rose and his mouth moved to her other nipple, his fingers continuing to play with the one still wet from his mouth. The assault was almost more than she could take, her body tightening as an explosion of pleasure beckoned, just out of reach.

She whimpered, she mewled, she begged until he lifted her up, carrying her still wrapped around him to their bed.

Letting her drop onto it, he smiled darkly at the picture she made upon the coverlet of furs. Her pale body in its sleek, satiny glory, shone upon the darker furs, her hair, even wet, still shone with moonbeam brightness against the coverlet. She reached for him, her arms out, her legs parted and the soft pinkness of her folds shimmering with her juices.

"Come to me," she begged, her voice rough with her need. That voice shot through him like a heated barb, making him moan with his own need. He climbed upon the bed, feeling her arms wrap around him, pulling him back into paradise.

Holding his weight off of her with his elbows, he slid deep into her waiting sex, groaning at the feeling of her hot, wet walls parted for him. His lips found hers and she opened to him, her tongue waiting to play, her mouth desperate for his taste. She rolled, forcing him to his back, her hands running down his arms, finding his hands and holding them above his head, twining her fingers into his.

"What are you doing?" he panted as she moved over him, gliding and grinding, slipping easily down his cock before rising until just the head remained in her.

"I'm loving you," she breathed against his lips, "my way."

"Your way?"

"Yes, now be quiet and pay attention," she said, nipping at his nose with her teeth.

He could do little else. She held him captive with every move of her body, every sweet slide of her cunny around his cock. Physically, he could have her under him in an instant, mentally, she was his captor and he would give her everything he had.

"I love you," he groaned as she took him almost to his peak, stopping until he calmed before starting over again. She had him begging and he loved it, teasing him with heart stopping kisses as she let him concentrate everything he had on where they were joined. "You are a witch."

Luria quickened her pace, grinding her body down against his, feeling him tighten his fingers around hers. "Am I?" she panted, throwing her head back to get her hair out of her face.

"Yes, my witch," he groaned. He dug his heels into the bed, his hips moving under hers, slamming into her.

"Gods," she cried, grinding down against him. "Yes." She moved quicker as her orgasm sent her into the chaos of pleasure. She barely heard him cry out, or felt him spurting his seed deep within her trembling walls. When she roused herself enough to open her eyes, he was next to her, his face buried in her neck, his arms around her, holding her tightly.

"I love you," he murmured softly.

She smiled lazily, her hand coming up to stroke his face until he opened his eyes to look at her.

"I want to have another ceremony," he whispered as she pushed his hair back, turning toward him.

"Ceremony?" she questioned, her eyes showing a lazy curiosity.

"Wedding ceremony, Luria. I don't want there to be any doubts as to who you are. I want my people to know that you hold my heart in this tiny hand of yours." He lifted her hand, kissing her palm softly. "Will you?"

"Marry you?"

"Yes, without the threat of battle or Magnus. Just a woman marrying the man she loves. Just a man marrying the woman that he cannot live without. Marry me, again, Luria?"

She stared up into his eyes, seeing the need and the want, but mostly the love that shone out of them. With a small sigh, she smiled up at him. "Yes, Balor. I'll marry you."

Balor rose from the bed, lifting her in his arms. He twirled around the bedchamber before stepping down into the still steaming water and dropping her into the pool. "We need to get cleaned up and then tell my parents. We have a ceremony to plan."

* * * *

Down the hall from the happy couple, in a chamber not quite half the size of the one they shared, Isobel was roused from a drugged sleep. A smell had her nose crinkling and she raised her head, trying to find out where it came from. It was a charred smell, one of meat left too long to cook.

From the corner of her room, a figure moved. Isobel sat up, clutching the furs to her body as she stared into the corner. "Who are you? What do you want?" she asked, terror in her voice.

"You," came the reply, one that should have sent her screaming from the room. Instead, she smiled, recognizing the voice.

"I am yours, my lord," she said with great pleasure, lying back upon the bed as a great beast rose from the shadows and moved toward her.