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A Lick Of Frost :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 133 из 184I hate that you want things that I think are pain and not pleasure. I hate knowing that though you enjoy sex with me, it's not everything you need, or want." He dug his fingers into my breasts again until I cried out again, and my body bucked under his.
He let go of me abruptly, pushing himself above my body so that his arms framed me on either side, but his hips were tighter against me.
"Because I hate the thought of the goblins with you tonight, because I want you with me more than I want you happy, because I am a selfish bastard, I'm going to fill your body with my seed, and I'm going to pray while I do it. I'm going to call power while I do it. I want you pregnant with my child, consort help me, but I do. Goddess help me, but I do. Not so we will all live. Not so Cel won't sit the throne, and divide us in civil war. No, nothing so noble, Merry. I want it, because I want you, even knowing you don't want me."
"I do want you," I said, and turned so I could look at him over my shoulder.
The look on his face was one that I would never forget. So fierce, so desperate, so wild, but not with sex or even lust or love. The look on his face was full of an awful loss. If I'd been sending him out to do battle with sword and shield, I wouldn't have let him go, because the look on his face was the look of a man who knew he wouldn't be coming back. The face of a man who knew he would lose this day, die this day. I would have held him back from the battle. I would have made him stay by my side, and kept him alive another day. But this was not a battlefield I could protect him from. It was my body and heart, and they had already chosen.
He shook his head. "No pity, Merry, at least save me that."
I turned away then, turned so he could not see the tears that shimmered in my eyes. It was the only way I could save him from my pity. I did love him, but not the way he needed me to love him. He was right, even our sexual appetites did not match.
He jerked my hips up off the bed. I tried to get up on all fours for him, but he forced my head down, so that my lower body was raised like an offering to him.
I felt the head of him pushing against me, but I was still too tight for the angle.
I said, "You'll need to use a finger to start. I'm too tight with no foreplay for this position."
He kept pushing at my body, harder, fiercer.
"You'll hurt yourself, Rhys," I said from where my face was almost buried against the pillows.
"I want it to hurt," he said. Then I felt him break the surface of me, find the barest part of himself inside me, and I stopped protesting.
He let go of me abruptly, pushing himself above my body so that his arms framed me on either side, but his hips were tighter against me.
"Because I hate the thought of the goblins with you tonight, because I want you with me more than I want you happy, because I am a selfish bastard, I'm going to fill your body with my seed, and I'm going to pray while I do it. I'm going to call power while I do it. I want you pregnant with my child, consort help me, but I do. Goddess help me, but I do. Not so we will all live. Not so Cel won't sit the throne, and divide us in civil war. No, nothing so noble, Merry. I want it, because I want you, even knowing you don't want me."
"I do want you," I said, and turned so I could look at him over my shoulder.
The look on his face was one that I would never forget. So fierce, so desperate, so wild, but not with sex or even lust or love. The look on his face was full of an awful loss. If I'd been sending him out to do battle with sword and shield, I wouldn't have let him go, because the look on his face was the look of a man who knew he wouldn't be coming back. The face of a man who knew he would lose this day, die this day. I would have held him back from the battle. I would have made him stay by my side, and kept him alive another day. But this was not a battlefield I could protect him from. It was my body and heart, and they had already chosen.
He shook his head. "No pity, Merry, at least save me that."
I turned away then, turned so he could not see the tears that shimmered in my eyes. It was the only way I could save him from my pity. I did love him, but not the way he needed me to love him. He was right, even our sexual appetites did not match.
He jerked my hips up off the bed. I tried to get up on all fours for him, but he forced my head down, so that my lower body was raised like an offering to him.
I felt the head of him pushing against me, but I was still too tight for the angle.
I said, "You'll need to use a finger to start. I'm too tight with no foreplay for this position."
He kept pushing at my body, harder, fiercer.
"You'll hurt yourself, Rhys," I said from where my face was almost buried against the pillows.
"I want it to hurt," he said. Then I felt him break the surface of me, find the barest part of himself inside me, and I stopped protesting.