Red, p.16
Red, page 16
I expected him to stop, but he kept up his assault, moaning against me in abandon. The spasming finally subsided, yet he continued. He reached up and massaged my breasts as he continued to lick. He worked his hands under my arse and lifted me upwards, towards his lips. Everything was so sensitive, but he kept on. My legs began to tremble around him. He feasted, which was fitting since we were, in fact, on a dining table. Not long after, I felt the muscles in my lower belly begin to quake once more, preparing for another release.
"Garrett...oh gods..." Another climax rocked through me. I arched my back off the table, throwing my hands back over my head. I was trembling, my muscles shaking, becoming jelly. "Garrett, yo-you have to stop..."
"More," he growled. Though I expected him to keep up his feverish assault, he instead slowed down, and dear gods it felt like something wholly new and different once more. He spread my folds wide with his fingers before slowly sinking his tongue inside me, over and over. He licked slowly, back and forth, back and forth. "Will never get enough of the taste of ye, the feel of ye on my tongue," he said quietly, his voice gruffer than usual. I moaned loudly, his words undoing me almost as much as his tongue. Somehow, I was getting close once more, the tension reaching such heights I was a little afraid of what would happen once it finally broke.
I sat up and tunneled my fingers through his hair. He glanced up at me through thick, black lashes and groaned as I watched him lick me over and over. It was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen and I couldn't get enough. He held my gaze as he reached a hand down and began to stroke himself. I gasped. The sight was too much. Too arousing. Too forbidden. Too perfect. I ground my hips against him, riding his tongue, just as he'd promised I would. The muscles in his bicep flexed as he moved his fist faster over his shaft. I wished it was my hand, but I promised myself I would be the one to do that for him next time. I was just on the cusp, the tension continuing to build and build, the flames reaching higher and higher.
"Garrett...oh gods, don't stop..."
"Come for me, Sloane. Come for yer man." Your man. His words sent me over the edge and I screamed once more as the most intense release burned through me, the flames reaching a fever pitch and burning me completely, turning me to ash. He groaned, turning his head to kiss and lightly bite the inside of my thigh as his hand continue to move, muscles flexing. A moment later his body tensed and he pulled away, throwing his head back and yelling as his own release ripped through him. He burned with me now, and by the end, we were nothing but embers together, glowing dimly in the darkness.
"—ou ok? Sloane?" I yank myself out of the memory, knowing full well that my skin is flushed and my chest is rising and falling far too quickly, and force my eyes from where I'd been staring at the other end of the table. Garrett hides his smile in his wine glass and I clear my throat.
"I'm so sorry, what were you saying, Conrad?"
He tries and fails to hide his laugh. Garrett loses his battle next and the two of them throw their heads back and laugh. I try to be offended or embarrassed, but give up quickly and soon join in the laughter, shrugging.
After dinner, Garrett and I walk hand and hand down the hallway, and though this isn't the first time we've walked this way, and it's obviously the most innocent touching we've done, I still tingle and warm where his thumb traces small circles along the top of my hand. I never knew even the slightest touch of a finger could feel this way, feel as if it was tracing to my very core, to my soul.
I don my cloak. Conrad and Garrett had both offered to have Bear bring a new one with the next load of provisions, but I was keen to keep my old one. It was a part of me and reminded me of who I was, who I’d been. But I have made some improvements: I've added a layer of wool and the inside of the hood has a layer of thick, white fur. Garrett dons a thin coat, ever warm even when there’s chill in the air.
We make our way down to the cove. Our cove. I can smell snow in the air and know it will arrive soon. Tonight, or maybe tomorrow. Even the cove has turned cold, but I don't care. I would come here in the middle of the deepest winter with a smile on my face.
I sit in front of Garrett, leaning back against his chest with his legs on either side of mine, his arms wrapped around me as we watch the sun go down. We both hold our breaths during the magic time, joining the rest of the universe in that perfect moment of stillness. The stars come out and he points out groups of them, explaining the shapes they make and the stories that go along with them. A hunter. A bear. A queen and her throne. I don't see most of the shapes and think he's making up some of the stories on the spot, but I can hear the smile on his face as he tells them, so I let him continue.
I'm so mesmerized by the stories, his deep, steady timber and the way his laugher rumbles against my back, that I don't even realize that snow has begun to fall until a large flake lands directly on my nose. I gasp and he chuckles. I hold my hand out, turning it this way and that trying to catch the fluffy crystals on my skin.
"Do you want tae leave?"
"Do we have to?" I glance at him and he smiles indulgently.
"I had a feeling that would be the answer. Come." We head to the rock overhang and he quickly coaxes a fire to life. We watch as snow falls over the beach and the water and I have yet another new incredible favorite moment here in the cove. The silvery-white flakes begin to come down heavier and though they melt as they kiss the waves, the picture is breathtaking. Soon I can barely see out into the water from under the rock, the snow falling like a thick curtain around us.
I turn to Garrett and in that moment, with the firelight and moonlight dancing upon his skin, the snow falling silently behind him in a crystalline backdrop, I feel the branch give way completely. I'm falling and nothing can stop me. I am in love with Garrett. I've never felt this way before. What I’d thought I’d felt for William before he’d shown me his true colors didn’t even compare to this. I didn't know it was possible to feel this way about another person, but I know without a doubt that this is love. His happiness is my happiness. His pain, my pain. I know that I would do anything to keep him just like this: relaxed, smiling, eyes alight with joy and amusement and that touch of mischief. I would face off against the gods themselves to protect him, keep him safe, keep him with me. Something shifts inside my chest, as if my heart has cracked and a piece of Garrett has filled in the gap, melding with the rest.
He is a part of me.
Now.
Always.
"What?" he asks, one brow arched upward.
"What what?" I ask, a bit breathless.
"You sound like a parrot." He smirks when I roll my eyes. "I was asking what you were thinking. You're looking at me...strangely." Was I? Could he tell what I was thinking just by the way I was gazing at him? Surely it was written clearly across my face. How would he react if I told him how I feel? A foreign whisper of fear creeps up my spine. What if he doesn't feel the same? We enjoy our time together and obviously our physical relationship is nothing but perfect, but...that doesn't mean that he feels anything stronger for me. No. I tell the voice in my head to shut its gob. I don't know if he loves me as I love him, but I do know that Garrett cares about me deeply. I can see it in the way he touches me, the way I sometimes find him looking at me from across a room, the way he holds me so tightly as we sleep, as if he's afraid that if he lets go, I'll disappear. He may not be falling with me yet, but I believe his branch may be cracking, slowly but surely. I won't push him. I'll wait until he's ready, until his branch finally gives way.
I'd wait for him forever.
Chapter 16
We finally leave when the snow really begins to come down and a thick covering has blanketed the sand. The temperature within the cove dropped dramatically and we run all the way back to the manor, breathless and laughing when we enter the large back doors. Garrett shakes snow out of his hair like a dog and I squeal as the flakes fly in my face. Conrad is there immediately with blankets.
“Foolish children, going to catch your deaths," he says with a smile, wrapping the blankets around us both. He shoos us off with mugs of warm coco and we make our way to Garrett’s chambers. We take a long, hot bath and I'm so sated and warm, that I fall asleep almost instantly when we crawl into his huge bed afterwards, though not before planting a soft kiss over his scars, as has become my custom every night. He sighs and it’s the last thing I hear before I'm pulled under.
I wake some time later, though it's still dark. Midnight blue light streams into the room, though the snow adds a glint of silver. I frown when I realize that I woke from being chilled. I've grown so accustomed to Garrett's warmth already that I felt bereft without it, pulled from sleep in order to find it. I sit up, the sheet falling down to my waist. The fire is still burning low in the fireplace that dominates one wall of the main chamber, casting enough light to make out most of the room, but I don't see Garrett. I see a small sliver of light gleaming from under the door to one of several smaller rooms that branch off of his bed chamber. I've never really explored any of them, but wonder now what on earth he could be doing in one of them in the middle of the night.
I ease out of bed and pick up his discarded tunic from the night before, throwing it on over my naked body. I breathe in deeply, eyes drifting shut at the delectable scent that clings to all of Garrett's clothing. I pad softly to the door, wincing slightly at the cool stone against my bare feet. I begin to knock but realize that the door is cracked open, so I merely push it gently. It swings inward and I suck in a startled breath. Garrett is there painting, shirtless, as usual, but that isn't what's taken my breath away. Multiple finished paintings line the ledge that circles the room. Every painting is of...me.
He turns, not seeming surprised by my entrance, as if he sensed me coming before I arrived. He looks tense. Worried about my reaction? I raise a hand to my mouth, my eyes traveling around the room, not sure what piece to look at first.
He sighs. "You asked if I ever painted portraits. I had no’ since my family, but now...I do. Of you, Sloane. Always of you." He stands rigid as I make my way forward, slowly circling the room. One of me leaning my forehead against Diana's, eyes closed and smiling. Another as I sleep by the fire. One of Conrad and I together, laughing. One that I realize is me on the first day we met when he saved my life, but...I tilt my head as I study the painting. I don't look small and dirty and terrified as I’m sure I was. No, he's painted me strong and fearless. Shoulders back, knife raised, fire and challenge in my eyes. This is how he saw me?
I find the piece he was working on the very first time I saw him painting in the studio. It's me standing in the moonlight in the cove, my back to the viewer, my dark hair blowing around me. He's gotten every detail in every single piece right. The exact green of my eyes, somewhere between emerald and jade; the tiny scar on my chin from where I slipped on the hearth when I was a child that most people don't even notice; the way I bite my thumbnail when I’m lost in thought. I lightly trace my fingers along the surface of the painting of me in the cove.
"This...this was what you were painting when you said the inspiration finally came back," I say in a whisper.
"Aye. When I walked out into the cove that night and saw you standing there, the sea breeze blowing your hair, your body gently swaying along with the motion of the waves—in those damned trousers that hug your arse in ways that should be forbidden," he adds with a small smile. "After that, I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. I knew that it needed to be preserved for all of eternity. It was...perfect.” He lets out a long breath. “It was a perfect moment, Sloane."
My throat feels thick. "And the others?" I ask quietly, glancing over my shoulder at him. His intense gaze is on me, watching every tiny movement I make, gauging my reactions.
"Every other perfect moment since the day I found you." His voice is almost a whisper, as if he fears saying the words. I turn then and take a few steps towards him. My gaze flicks to what he was painting tonight: me in the cove, snow cascading down around me like a silvery-white waterfall. My face is upturned and my eyes are closed, a soft smile on my lips.
Tears well.
"No one's ever...seen me like this before."
"Then they're all a bunch of blind idiots who should be flogged in the village square." I grin and he reaches out, placing one large hand on my cheek. I lean into the touch and close my eyes. His thumb gently strokes my cheekbone.
"Thank you," I whisper, "for seeing me. Truly seeing me. Not...not seeing what I am—or was or wasn't or would never be—but for who I am."
"Who you are is..." He takes a deep breath and lets it out roughly before finishing. "Who you are is mine, Sloane. Always." My breath catches and my eyes fly open. Our gazes collide and my heart beats so hard within my chest that I know he must be able to hear it.
"Yours," I breathe. "Always."
He leans down and presses his lips to mine, softly, but deeply. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and play lightly with the hair there. I dart my tongue out to meet his and he groans. The kiss quickly becomes something else, something heated and desperate and dangerous. He slides his hand to the nape of my neck, pulling me harder against his lips as he slants his head, his tongue rolling against mine, beginning to dominate it in that delicious way that drives me mad. I shift my body forward, closing what little space remains between us. He runs his other hand down my side to my waist, further still over my rear and then down the back of my thigh. He hoists it up and hitches it over his hip. I gasp when I feel him, hard and warm against me. He makes a wicked sound deep in the back of his throat that has my toes curling.
I arch my hips against him once more before using my hold on the back of his neck to lift myself up, wrapping both legs tightly around his waist. We don't stop kissing as he walks us back out of the room, somehow maneuvering without ever looking where he's going. He lays me back on the bed, following me down and covering my body with his. He grinds his hips against me and I moan, digging my nails into his skin. I push at his chest until he sits up enough that I can do the same. My fingers fly to his pants. He hadn't bothered lacing them when he'd pulled them on in the darkness to go paint, so I make quick work of shoving them down his thighs and he helps me get them the rest of the way off. He grabs the tunic I'm wearing roughly by the bottom and yanks it over my head.
He stares for a moment, whispers "beautiful" and then his head dips to my breast, twirling his tongue around the hardened tip before sucking it between his lips, grasping the other in a hot, calloused palm. His touch is somehow gentle and rough at the same time. Perfect. I dig my fingers into his hair with one hand while my other seeks between his legs. I grasp him firmly and he hisses out a breath against my sensitive skin. I stroke him, still amazed by how hard—and large—he is, how soft the skin is. Iron wrapped in satin. I gently run my thumb over the head, spreading the moisture that's beaded there. I lick my lips, remembering his taste. His hand slides down my stomach and tunnels through the wetness.
"Gods, Sloane. You're so fucking wet." He quickly thrusts in two fingers and I arch my hips upward, loving the sensation of being filled by him. "For me."
"For you," I agree, panting. "Always for you." He growls in what I take to be approval and kisses me deeply once more before biting at my lower lip. He pumps his fingers in and out and I'm already quickly beginning to near the edge. "Garrett, please...”
"Tell me. Tell me what you want." He presses his palm downward, right against the small bud and I gasp and bite my lip.
"Garrett..."
"Tell me," he commands. He slows his fingers to a near-torturous speed and I writhe, desperately trying to make him continue, needing him to move faster. Harder. I move my hips, using them to fuck myself with his fingers and he groans, but doesn’t assist me. He runs my ear lobe through his teeth and then whispers directly in my ear. "Tell. Me."
"I want you inside me. I need you inside me. Garrett, please." He stills, as if surprised by my answer. He pulls back and studies me, eyes wide.
"You're sure?"
"Yes, damnit. Now." I'm spiraling out of control, my need for him suddenly more powerful than anything else. More powerful than my need for water or food or air. He curses and chuckles, and then his lips are on mine, punishing in the most exquisite way. His fingers speed back up, but he uses his thumb now to circle the sensitive spot and soon I cry out against his mouth as a climax burns through me.
"You're so gods damned tight, I can feel you squeezing my fingers. Tae have my cock squeezed likewise..." He shudders and then removes his fingers. I feel empty without them, but then he pushes to his knees and settles in between my hips. He stares down at me in wonder. He runs a hand down my body, between my breasts then down my stomach. He stares raptly between my thighs, then sucks in a breath when I widen them, letting my knees fall open, letting him see all of me. Beckoning him. Begging him. "Surely this is a dream..." He grips his shaft and pumps his fist up and down once, twice. The sight is so arousing that I whimper.
"Gods Garrett, you're...mouthwatering."
"You're sure about this?" He asks again as he shifts so that his body is over mine once more. He braces his weight on one arm and uses the other hand to position himself at my entrance. I can feel just the head of his cock and I nod emphatically, needing more. So much more. He begins to slide slowly forward. I gasp and he groans. I knew he was big but my gods. He can barely get the full crown in at first.
"So fooking tight," he growls. His brogue is so thick it sends a fresh wave of arousal through me. I move my hips slightly and he slides in another inch. Though he's stretching me and it pinches slightly, the overwhelming pleasure of feeling him inside me, filling me so completely, outweighs everything else.
