Morning Hope Rising, Part 6

Author’s Note: This part and the next might be more graphic than you’re used to from me. Proceed with caution.

The brown-eyed outlander warrior stood at the door of the cottage. He turned to look at the lady on his arm. She locked eyes with him. He reached for her face, brushed her hair from her eyes, and cupped her chin.

She kept eye contact with him as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He bent down and gently brushed her lips with his. She sighed a little and quivered, fighting a rapid increase in her breathing.

As her breathing slowed, he kissed her lips a little harder. He fought the urge to brush her lips with his tongue. She rewarded him by gently nibbling his lips.

Then her green eyes began to brim with tears.

“I don’t… I can’t…” She took three deep breaths.

“Snowcat, stop. It’s just us. I know you don’t want to be back in the lead again. Just let me lead you this time.”

He brushed her hair back behind her ear and began to rub her back gently. His right hand wandered and brushed over her rib cage.

She sighed again, fighting a panicked breathing pattern. She felt a warmth growing in her belly, and she absently dropped her hands to run over his lower back and hips.

He chuckled deep in his throat. “Much better, my lady. Wait here.”

He opened the door and walked in. He checked that the roof thatch window was still open. He lit the candles and started the fire. She stared with appreciation for the little things he had thought of. The chee-chin slipped in around her feet and quietly padded to the hearth, while the brown-eyed outlander warrior laid the union furs out and arranged the pillows.

He stood looking at the union furs and looking at her. He couldn’t decide if he should go and carry her there knowing his body was almost too old for it or if he should ask her.

His lady, as she watched him, almost knew what his indecision was about. Fighting the fears that had fought her every day since the attack, she lightly walked across the floor. When she reached the spot where he was standing, she reached out and brushed the curve of his face from forehead to chin with her left hand while she released the pin with her right.

The wrap slid to the floor with all the ease he would have expected of a gift from a whore. Then she pushed her underthings off and stood before him, waiting to see what would happen next.

For his part, he was stunned. This was the first glimmer he’d seen of his strong, impetuous, confident lover. He knew to match her and mirror her, but his fingers were trembling, both with anticipation of the union and fear of what might happen after union.

Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. As he struggled, she stepped toward him. First, she slid his tunic off. She gently brushed over his chest as her hand went down. She covered his hands with her left hand and pulled them away; with her right hand, she deftly undid the tie and slid the trousers off.

She giggled as she saw he didn’t have any underthings on, but then she stiffened and froze as she saw his love sword was almost ready.

He saw her freeze. He saw why. He took both of her hands in his and held them tightly. However, she wasn’t weeping; that was a good first step.

“Good girl, snowcat. Go lie down and make yourself comfortable. I will take my time, and I won’t come from behind until someday when you’re ready.”

Her eyes widened. Without warning, she pulled free of his hands, stepped into him, and wrapped her arms around him. She maneuvered her thigh to push his love sword between them, and then she narrowed her eyes and began to kiss him deeply, exploring the inside of his lips with her tongue. She pumped her thigh a bit, but then jumped back and ran to the bed when the love sword started to move with a mind of its own.

He wanted to curse his body for picking that moment to wake up more, but he also felt blessed that some of the old confidence and techniques were still buried somewhere in her. He could wish she would talk more; she used to quote poetry or sometimes just share what was on her heart about missing him and missing their union.

He caught himself being lost in thought and memory, and then pulled himself back to the present. She was lying on her side on the union furs. Her body was still quite lean, and her muscles looked a bit too atrophied. A moon beam from the roof thatching window was trailing between her breasts and love box, almost highlighting the magic path to follow. She was shivering, but the moon bumps told him it was more cold than anticipation or fear.