Page 42

I caught my breath, torn between desire and confusion.

This position, with my back to him—it was new.

Different. And not necessarily unwelcome—the thought of him taking me from behind sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling low in my belly.

But it also meant he wouldn't have to look at me.

Wouldn't have to meet my eyes or face whatever he was avoiding.

Still, I wanted him. Wanted this. Whatever was happening between us emotionally, our bodies still spoke the same urgent language.

"Yes," I breathed, arching my back, pressing against him in invitation. "Please."

He groaned, teeth grazing my shoulder as his hand slipped between my thighs again, checking that I was ready. I was—almost embarrassingly so, my body responding to his touch with eagerness that bordered on desperation.

"Brace yourself," he murmured, lining himself up behind me.

I spread my hands against the shower wall, water running down my arms, between my fingers. The first press of him was exquisite—a slow, thick pressure that had me gasping, pressing back to take more.

"Fuck," Uldrek hissed, hands tightening on my hips as he sank deeper. "You feel so good, Issy. So fucking perfect."

The stretch from this angle was sharp, bordering on too much. But that edge of discomfort only heightened the pleasure, made me whimper, squirm, take him deeper.

"Alright?" he asked, pausing to let me adjust.

I nodded, beyond words. The feel of him inside me—stretching, claiming, filling—was overwhelming. Perfect. Everything I needed.

He began to move, slow at first, careful thrusts that had me moaning with each drag and slide. His hands roamed my body, one cupping my breast, the other sliding down to circle my clit in time with his thrusts.

"That's it," he murmured as I pressed back against him, meeting each thrust with equal urgency. "Take me. Take all of me."

The water cascaded over us, steam fogging the air, the sound of our breathing harsh and ragged above the steady patter of droplets. I closed my eyes, losing myself in sensation—the slide of him inside me, the press of his chest against my back, the tension building between us with every thrust.

I reached back with one hand, tangling my fingers in his hair, needing some connection, some reminder that it was him—us—not just bodies seeking release in the dark. He groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest into my back, and quickened his pace.

The claiming mark on my collarbone stayed quiet. No pulse. No glow. No magic. Just flesh and pleasure. Just me and him. And that silent space between.

"Uldrek," I gasped, feeling the edge approaching. "I'm close—"

He growled, his movements becoming harder, deeper, more desperate. His fingers circled my clit with renewed purpose, dragging me toward climax with relentless skill.

“Come for me,” he growled, voice thick with need. “Let me feel it.”

The command tipped me over. I cried out, my body tightening around him as pleasure crashed through me in waves. He cursed, hips stuttering as my inner walls clenched and pulsed, drawing him deeper, demanding his release.

He drove into me a few more times, hard and fast, then groaned my name as he came—his cock pulsing deep inside me, each wave drawing a soft gasp from my lips. His forehead pressed against my shoulder, breath hot on my wet skin as we both trembled through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, we just stood there, connected, catching our breath as the water continued to fall around us. He held me close, arms firm around my waist. But when I tried to turn—to meet his eyes—he eased back, slipping out of me with a gentleness that only made the distance sharper.

"Water's getting cold," he murmured, reaching for the lever to shut it off.

I turned then, watching his face in the moonlight. He looked... tired. Satisfied, yes—his body relaxed in the way only release can bring. But his eyes still wouldn't quite meet mine.

He handed me a drying cloth, taking one for himself. We dried in silence, the heat of our bodies fading into the cool night. When he leaned in to kiss my forehead—a gentle, almost chaste gesture—I closed my eyes, wishing I could read his mind. Wishing I knew what had happened, what had changed.

We dressed, gathered our things, and headed inside. The cottage was dark and quiet, save for the small lantern burning low in the main room. Hobbie was curled in her basket beside Ellie's cradle, both of them deep in slumber.

"She looks peaceful," Uldrek whispered, gazing down at Ellie's sleeping form. His expression softened, the mask he'd worn all evening slipping just enough for me to see the tenderness beneath.

I nodded, throat tight. "She is."

We moved to the bedroom, stripping out of our damp clothes and into dry nightclothes. The bed—our bed—welcomed us with familiar comfort. Uldrek settled on his side, arm extended in silent invitation. I curled against him, my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.

His fingers traced slow patterns on my arm, feather-light and familiar. Of something that might have been love, if I dared to name it.

"Goodnight, Issy," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"Goodnight," I whispered back, waiting for more—for the explanation, the confession, whatever it was that had kept him distant all evening.

It didn't come. His breathing deepened, body relaxing as sleep claimed him quickly, the day's events and our exertion taking their toll. But I lay awake, watching shadows play across the ceiling, listening to the quiet of our home.

My hand drifted to the claiming mark, fingers tracing its outline. Still there. Still binding us. But changed, somehow. Quieter. Waiting.