At the Baths


"Rick! Ah, gods!" she gasped. She felt his lips curve in a smile against her leg. It was her turn to writhe against the tangled sheets as he worked his way back up. This time, when he reached the center of her desire, he did not torment her as before but ran his tongue along the folds, seeking and unerringly finding the small button that made her fling her arm across her mouth to stifle her cries.

He did not cease until Bevri's entire body shuddered in release, and then instead of stopping completely he shifted his place on the bed so their heads were at opposite ends, presenting her with his manhood and burying his head once more between her thighs. She sucked at him urgently at first, then slowed and matched the rhythm of his actions. Soon, they were so perfectly matched in pace that it was as if they were one being, with one heart and mind and soul all focused on the same fulfillment.

She could finally wait no longer for the complete act, and neither could he. She rolled onto her back and he covered her body with his own. She had never been with a man in this fashion, never lain beneath him. It was the way of a free man with a woman, the way a slave was never allowed. The thought of what was about to happen, the thought that a free man was about to enter her body, sent her passions spiraling to a height she had never known in all her life. It was so intense that her nerves exploded in climax just as the head of his shaft parted her folds. This time she could not muffle her cries, nor did she even think of it. He pushed inward with exquisite slowness, gritting his teeth to restrain his own passions as her body continued to leap helplessly. When he had fully entered her, he did not even move but simply held her, waiting for the tremors to subside.

At last she could breathe again, could think, could speak. But she could not think of anything to say, no words that would describe what had just happened. Nothing had ever been like that. She tried to tell him so, but her voice shook so that he could barely understand her. He kissed her, showering kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids, and between kisses he breathed Dorian's name in awe. He was still huge and rigid inside her, so she gripped his buttocks and raised her hips to him. He started moving in a slow rocking motion, a slow and steady rocking that nevertheless rapidly brought her to the brink again. She clutched at him wildly, sobbed his name, locked her ankles behind the small of his back so that he plunged even deeper. He could not hold back, moving faster and faster, thrusting into her and matching her cries with his own.

She felt him spend, felt her insides flooded with his seed just as she climaxed for the third time. He collapsed atop her, heavy, so heavy and large, but she did not mind the weight and pulled him even closer, crushing herself into the mattress. For a long time, neither of them could move or speak.

After the intensity of their shared passion, she was almost surprised at the tenderness of his kiss.

"Thank you, Dorian," she said.

"Yes, thank you," he echoed.

She twined his hair around her fingers. "You are unbelievable."

"So are you." He chuckled softly.


"I was wondering something," he said slyly, teasing her.


"Why didn't you say something before I got dressed? It would have saved some time."

She laughed, and he joined her. They lay side by side, still exhausted, letting the cool air wash over them.

Dorian bless me, Bevrianna thought. I could fall in love with this man. But even as she thought it, she knew it was too late. She already had.

* * *

The End

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