Craving Resurrection
Page 47
“Still not nervous?”
“No,” I whispered hoarsely, my pulse thrumming.
“Keep yer eyes on mine, wife.”
He rocked his hips, gently at first, which got us nowhere, and then harder. I could feel him stretching me slowly, and it didn’t hurt really, but it didn’t feel good, either.
“Are you in?” I asked after a couple minutes of watching his jaw clench and sweat bead on his upper lip.
“Halfway.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Nervous yet?”
“No,” I replied stubbornly, taking a shaky breath.
“Good.” He arched his hips harder and suddenly there was a stinging sensation, and I was the one clenching my jaw.
“All done, me love,” he whispered gently, leaning down to kiss me. I could taste my arousal on his mouth, but when I tried to turn my face away he gripped my jaw on each side, holding me in place. “Don’t turn away,” he said against my mouth. “Taste it. It’s good.”
I groaned as his tongue thrust in my mouth with the rhythm of his hips. I wasn’t getting anything out of it, not really. I was sore and my thighs were beginning to hurt a little where his hipbones pressed against me… but he was inside me. It wasn’t anything like I’d imagined, full of starbursts and fireworks and an orgasm that made my eyes roll back in my head. But somehow it was better, because this person—this gorgeous man who loved me—was my husband. And he was focused solely on me, kissing me, and rubbing my cheeks gently with his thumbs, and sliding in and out of me in a steady rhythm.
It wasn’t long before he pulled his mouth away and rested his forehead against mine as he shuddered, jerking his hips uncontrollably. “I love ye, wife.”
“Love you too, husband.”
Chapter 23
Amy
We didn’t leave for the hotel room Patrick had reserved until the next morning. Our wedding day had been so long and emotional, both of us had fallen asleep not long after we’d cleaned up. We only went a few towns over—there was no money for a fancy vacation—but I didn’t care. I had three whole days of nothing but Patrick. I was in heaven.
By the time we got back, I actually felt married. It was just long enough that the exciting newness of it all had turned into a sort of newlywed bliss—still exciting, but more comfortable. More solid.
The Patrick I’d grown to love was back—attentive and sarcastic in equal measure and more physical than he’d ever been before. He was constantly touching me, a hand on my knee, on the small of my back, or wrapped around my shoulders. He kissed me constantly, when he was excited or happy or thoughtful. It didn’t matter what we were doing, he was marking me constantly with his possession, figuratively—and literally—in the form of matching anchors we’d had tattooed where wedding rings would have been placed if that was possible. It was wonderful, and seeing the permanent mark on my hand made me giddy with love.
By the time we got back to Peg’s I was more sore than I’d ever been in my entire life. Even sitting in the car for an hour had hurt like hell.
“Ye look like an old woman,” Patrick teased as I climbed slowly out of the car.
“If you hadn’t fucked me eighteen million times in four days, maybe I’d be a bit more spry.”
“But t’ink of all de fun we would have missed,” he said, pushing me gently against the car so he could steal a long, wet kiss. “Now it’s back to reality.”
“No,” I moaned. “Let’s go back. We’ll live like gypsies.”
“Yer home!” Peg called from the front door. “Did ye have a good time?”
We turned to face her, and she beamed back, clearly excited to see us.
“No, your son sucks in bed,” I whispered to Patrick, which earned me a hard pinch on my ass. He pulled out of reach as I yelped and then grabbed our bags out of the back seat.
I walked slowly toward Peg and as I reached her, she snickered.
“Apparently, a little too much fun.”
“Hey! A little sympathy would be nice.” I scowled at her, but it didn’t last long. She looked so happy, I couldn’t stop from smiling back at her.
“Let’s get ye into the bath with some salts,” she said as she ushered me inside. “I know just how yer feelin’. Had a wedding night of my own once.”
She settled me into the bath as we listened to Patrick putting my things away. The warm water felt fantastic against my raw skin and sore muscles. Why hadn’t I realized that I was so sore? Probably because while we were away, Patrick had kept me in a perpetual state of arousal and willing to do anything to sate it.
We’d been both making up for lost time and preparing for time apart. Our few days had passed too quickly, and now I had less than twenty-four hours before Patrick had to leave again to get back to school. It felt like the end of the world, and I sniffled as I leaned farther into the tub water.
I hated the thought of being away from him for even a second.
“Hey, what’s all dat about?” the man of my thoughts asked as he slipped into the room.
“You can’t be in here!”
“What de hell are ye talkin’ about?”
“Your mom’s in the next room!”
“And we’re married,” he answered, raising his eyebrow.
“But—”
“Are ye feelin’ any better?” he asked as he knelt by the tub, running the tips of his fingers through the water. His eyes roamed over my naked body as if cataloguing the love bites and fingertip bruises that covered me. Suddenly, he burst out laughing while I stared at him in horror.
“No,” I whispered hoarsely, my pulse thrumming.
“Keep yer eyes on mine, wife.”
He rocked his hips, gently at first, which got us nowhere, and then harder. I could feel him stretching me slowly, and it didn’t hurt really, but it didn’t feel good, either.
“Are you in?” I asked after a couple minutes of watching his jaw clench and sweat bead on his upper lip.
“Halfway.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Nervous yet?”
“No,” I replied stubbornly, taking a shaky breath.
“Good.” He arched his hips harder and suddenly there was a stinging sensation, and I was the one clenching my jaw.
“All done, me love,” he whispered gently, leaning down to kiss me. I could taste my arousal on his mouth, but when I tried to turn my face away he gripped my jaw on each side, holding me in place. “Don’t turn away,” he said against my mouth. “Taste it. It’s good.”
I groaned as his tongue thrust in my mouth with the rhythm of his hips. I wasn’t getting anything out of it, not really. I was sore and my thighs were beginning to hurt a little where his hipbones pressed against me… but he was inside me. It wasn’t anything like I’d imagined, full of starbursts and fireworks and an orgasm that made my eyes roll back in my head. But somehow it was better, because this person—this gorgeous man who loved me—was my husband. And he was focused solely on me, kissing me, and rubbing my cheeks gently with his thumbs, and sliding in and out of me in a steady rhythm.
It wasn’t long before he pulled his mouth away and rested his forehead against mine as he shuddered, jerking his hips uncontrollably. “I love ye, wife.”
“Love you too, husband.”
Chapter 23
Amy
We didn’t leave for the hotel room Patrick had reserved until the next morning. Our wedding day had been so long and emotional, both of us had fallen asleep not long after we’d cleaned up. We only went a few towns over—there was no money for a fancy vacation—but I didn’t care. I had three whole days of nothing but Patrick. I was in heaven.
By the time we got back, I actually felt married. It was just long enough that the exciting newness of it all had turned into a sort of newlywed bliss—still exciting, but more comfortable. More solid.
The Patrick I’d grown to love was back—attentive and sarcastic in equal measure and more physical than he’d ever been before. He was constantly touching me, a hand on my knee, on the small of my back, or wrapped around my shoulders. He kissed me constantly, when he was excited or happy or thoughtful. It didn’t matter what we were doing, he was marking me constantly with his possession, figuratively—and literally—in the form of matching anchors we’d had tattooed where wedding rings would have been placed if that was possible. It was wonderful, and seeing the permanent mark on my hand made me giddy with love.
By the time we got back to Peg’s I was more sore than I’d ever been in my entire life. Even sitting in the car for an hour had hurt like hell.
“Ye look like an old woman,” Patrick teased as I climbed slowly out of the car.
“If you hadn’t fucked me eighteen million times in four days, maybe I’d be a bit more spry.”
“But t’ink of all de fun we would have missed,” he said, pushing me gently against the car so he could steal a long, wet kiss. “Now it’s back to reality.”
“No,” I moaned. “Let’s go back. We’ll live like gypsies.”
“Yer home!” Peg called from the front door. “Did ye have a good time?”
We turned to face her, and she beamed back, clearly excited to see us.
“No, your son sucks in bed,” I whispered to Patrick, which earned me a hard pinch on my ass. He pulled out of reach as I yelped and then grabbed our bags out of the back seat.
I walked slowly toward Peg and as I reached her, she snickered.
“Apparently, a little too much fun.”
“Hey! A little sympathy would be nice.” I scowled at her, but it didn’t last long. She looked so happy, I couldn’t stop from smiling back at her.
“Let’s get ye into the bath with some salts,” she said as she ushered me inside. “I know just how yer feelin’. Had a wedding night of my own once.”
She settled me into the bath as we listened to Patrick putting my things away. The warm water felt fantastic against my raw skin and sore muscles. Why hadn’t I realized that I was so sore? Probably because while we were away, Patrick had kept me in a perpetual state of arousal and willing to do anything to sate it.
We’d been both making up for lost time and preparing for time apart. Our few days had passed too quickly, and now I had less than twenty-four hours before Patrick had to leave again to get back to school. It felt like the end of the world, and I sniffled as I leaned farther into the tub water.
I hated the thought of being away from him for even a second.
“Hey, what’s all dat about?” the man of my thoughts asked as he slipped into the room.
“You can’t be in here!”
“What de hell are ye talkin’ about?”
“Your mom’s in the next room!”
“And we’re married,” he answered, raising his eyebrow.
“But—”
“Are ye feelin’ any better?” he asked as he knelt by the tub, running the tips of his fingers through the water. His eyes roamed over my naked body as if cataloguing the love bites and fingertip bruises that covered me. Suddenly, he burst out laughing while I stared at him in horror.
