Page 73 of Love Me Forever

“Aye, though I suffered many blows.”

“But you remained standing.”

His pride surfaced. “Always.”

“And the man you were to fight?”

“I fought him.”

“Wounded as you were?” she asked, thinking that he could not have been able to see out of his injured eye and must have bled profusely from his lip and the wound to his face. How did he ever fight?

“It was necessary.”

“The battle ended,” she said, knowing full well he had taken the man’s life.

“Aye, it ended and we buried our dead and returned home.”

“You did not.”

“This battle left more than the scars on my face.”

“It scarred your soul,” she said with a gentle hand to his face.

He kissed her palm. “That is why I sought solitude—to make sense of it all.”

She felt guilty. “And my presence did not allow you that.”

He placed her hand to his cheek. “Your presence healed my soul.”

His words touched her heart and her tears spilled freely.

“I thank God for the day you entered my life.”

Words failed her; actions did not. She moved to cover his body with hers, stretching out along the length of him.

“Do you know what you do?”

“Nay,” she said with a smile, “but I will learn.”

His smile was wide. “I will help you.”

She shook her head. “Nay, this is for me to do.” She pushed at his arms so he was forced to rest them above his head, and then she kissed him starting on his forehead.

He shivered, for he knew full well her intentions, and he did not think himself capable of letting her completely have her way with him, but he would try. Try hard, for it was her wish to do so.

She kissed almost every inch of his face and moved slowly to his neck, where she licked and nibbled, enjoying the delicious taste of him. She took her time exploring his flesh, for every inch of him tempted her tongue and she could not pass up a single morsel.

She was branding him for sure, for he felt on fire. The heat ran through him, rushing his blood, causing his heart to beat wildly, firing his loins until he wanted nothing more than to grab her, shove her beneath him, and drive into her with an urgency that frightened him. And if she continued feeding on him with a lazy slowness, he would surely lose control.

“Brianna.” His heavy breath whispered her name in warning.

She paid no heed to him, lost in the pleasure of her passion. She moved down to his chest, her mouth instantly seeking his nipples, and she feasted, her soft mewling sounds driving him to the edge of insanity.

He grew hard—so hard that he hurt with a relentless ache, and he attempted to warn her once again. “Brianna.”

She heard nothing but her own soft moans, and they heated her own passion. She continued her pursuit of pleasure, moving farther down him.

It was a slow descent with her hot mouth scorching his flesh. His moans surprised him, for it was he who had always caused his partner to moan in pleasure. And she did bring him pleasure, intense pleasure.