NovelEnglishChapter 155 Countdown to Peace - Part 11
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*****
AYLETH
Under any other circumstance, Ayleth would have been mortified at her own crass boldness, and her
father would have called her a wanton. It struck her—as Falek led her out of the secret entrance in
Etan's living room, checking to make sure no servants saw them, before beckoning Ayleth to follow—
that showing up in Etan's room only half-dressed, removing her cloak with barely a word spoken,
then crawling naked onto the bed in front of him was rather… forward.
Yet, he stared at her as if she was heaven itself, and he'd called her with a holy Hosannah.
If he'd been anything but her husband, she might have hidden herself, or felt shame. But she was
brimming with nothing but joy and sheer need.
Her husband—her warm, strong, gorgeous husband ached for her just as badly as she ached for him.
And where their bodies entwined to make them one, heaven glittered and beckoned.
"Etan, please…" she gasped as he rolled his hips, so slowly she felt every inch of him as if it were
drawn in exquisite detail for her.
"Ayleth, my Ayleth." He was mindless, his eyes glazed with hunger and pleasure. His full lips tasting
every part of her skin they could reach. His hands held her so gently, and stroked so masterfully.
the cries for him break from her throat.
She closed her eyes and became a bundle of nothing but sweet, heated sensation.
His lips opened on her neck as he thrust into her again, and she washed in goosebumps down that
side. Then he eased back slowly, slowly, one hand stroking from her jaw to her neck, down, down
until it reached her breast and he cupped her, then thrust again.
Ayleth's mouth dropped open, but she refused to open her eyes.
Then his heavenly lips were on her breast, his tongue playing with her nipple even as he sucked.
She shuddered with the jolt, like the snap of electricity on the skin when it gathered on stormy days
—but this was electric pleasure, exploding from the tiniest touch, then ricocheting through her body,
to her limbs, lighting up pathways, nerves, that sang to welcome him as he thrust again.
She began to keen, locking her legs behind him and pulling him into her. Gasping into his kiss. She
arched and writhed, seeking more, always more. But more of him. More of her husband. More of
Etan.
She wanted to take him within her and hold him there. Never lose him. Nothing was enough.
Then he groaned and buried his face where her neck met her shoulder and her breath ratcheted up
again as they began to roll. Then thrust. Then pound.
"Ayleth, dear lord…" His voice was deep and tortured, husky with desire and raw, aching need, and it
struck another spark within her.
Ayleth opened her mouth to say his name, but then he let himself go, crying out for her, pleading
with her—for what, she didn't know. But she pleaded with him as well. Desperate. Frantic. Panicked,
though she couldn't have said why.
She lost all sense of the world. Her very existence tunneled down to the soft bed beneath her, his
warm, iron strength covering her, his lips, his hair, and the desperate cries of his name on her
tongue.
She held her breath, only letting go in short gasps when he reached the peak within her and held for
a split second, before parting and pounding back to find her again.
Her hand slapped on his back when she reached for him, to pull him in tighter, harder, her other
hand clasped on his shoulder, feeling the muscle roll beneath his skin as he braced himself over her.
His breath was hot against her skin, and his body slicked in sweat.
She heard a high, crying sound and realized it was her. Lights flashed behind her eyelids, and her
body shuddered.
Then Etan put a hand under her lower back and lifted her in the same moment that he thrust and
Ayleth's insides twirled like a spun top. Her very skin sparkled, prickles of heat and love and pure
pleasure washing from her core, out to every inch of her limbs.
"Etan!" she cried, but he took her mouth, stifling her scream, then groaning, his own body going rigid
in her arms, his feet scrabbling on the bed, his hands clinging, holding her to him so tightly she
almost couldn't breathe.
But she wanted more.
As Etan bellowed her name into her neck, and his thrusts became erratic, their bodies tangled and
sweaty, jolting with pleasure, but sliding down the wave now, both of them, breath heaving and eyes
blinking, began to come back to earth.
Ayleth slumped back on the pillow. She hadn't realized she'd been curled up, pressing herself into his
chest, pulling him in, until her body went slack and she thumped back against the pillow, her hair
sticking to her face.
But Etan slumped too, covering her, his weight pressing her into the thick mattress and, with tears
of joy in her eyes, she held him. One hand stroking slowly up and down his beautiful, strong back,
the other clawed into his hair.
He had one hand cupped over her head. Pulling the other from underneath her, he braced his
elbows on either side of her face and pushed himself up to meet her eyes.
They stared at each other in the half-dark, eyes wide and foreheads sheened in sweat.
"I love you, Ayleth," he rasped. Then shook his head. "That word doesn't even begin to describe—"
"It's okay, Etan. I know," she whispered back, cupping his jaw and letting her thumb scrape across the
prickles there. "Me too. Me too."
They stared at each other a moment, ecstatic and afraid.
Then he put both hands over her head, holding her in, as he slumped over her again. And they lay
there silently, together, for a very long time.
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