"Yes," I breathe. "Harder."
He obliges. Working until the same delight from before starts to bundle up my nerves, until I feel myself start to press against that edge and freeze.
The pain of stopping just before release is something akin to torture, but coming for a dream was one thing.
Having him before me, inside of me, is another.
I can’t do this. I can’t break my one rule. The fear returns, and I tense up.
Ra'Sa strokes my face. I can't keep him out, and his brow relaxes as he understands.
“Ruh’flor,it's okay. Unravel for me. I am here."
The words sink into my heart. Curse every inch of my being, but I believe him. His fingers move to my jaw, and then he pumps in and out once more. This time, he is desperate and his face slowly twists as he loses himself to the feeling.
I hold his wrist, watching his face as I walk over that edge and fall. Fall in more ways than one, down to a sweet, small death.
It shocks me. It delights me.
As the shudder starts, I arch into him, and he holds me through the act. The sweetest of all feelings grips me—one that I never thought would touch me.
Love.
The words are sealed behind my lips. I don't say them, though they threaten to break free. When his eyes meet mine, he sees. I plead for him to leave me be. It wouldn't take much for him to coax them from my soul, but he understands.
I did it. I fell in love.
Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt.
He kisses me, still buried deep, and says, "Melisa. I am yours."
My eyes widen at the sound of the words. How could I have ever expected to be strong enough to fight against this man?
Instead of returning his words, I kiss him back. Hungry. Helpless.
He thrusts again and again, his gentle presence easing past all the walls around my heart until, finally, they are all gone. I come again, and he presses his hand to my mouth and follows.
The act is quiet, feral, lost, and tense. I hold him back, letting him lay atop me.
In and out.
He exits, and moves to hold me on his side. For a long while, we lie there, suspended in heaven.
I don’t dare move and shatter whatever just happened between us.
Then he stands, hand grazing up my curves, and says, “I will return.”
Before I have time to turn, he is back at my side with the rag. He cleans me and himself and starts to dress.
I roll over, sated, but slowly becoming anything but.
Watching him dress makes me bite my lip.
What we had done was dangerous. It was wrong—especially in this house. He should run, and yet, he kneels next to the bed and covers me with a blanket.
“Gods, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever beheld.”
My mouth parts. “I—thank you.”