The Weaver's Source

Chapter 96

His mouth was at my neck, sucking and tasting the magic shimmering over my skin greedily. "Louder, Lyra. I want to hear you." He growled harshly, his breath thick with pleasure.

He surged into me hard, burying himself deeply and earning himself that cry he wanted as it spilled from my mouth shamelessly. It stirred something inside him, something ravenous and lustful, and abruptly the gentle pace was tossed aside as he began to thrust faster into me, unforgiving and merciless as stroked the aching fire that was swelling through me, building up that hot carnal pleasure as my moans devolved into mindless keening cries, until my body couldn't take it anymore.

"Grigore!" I cried out breathlessly, my body trembling from the wave of fierce pleasure that swelled into me, melting me in fire and lust as my body sang and my magic swelled, stroking him and tumbling him over the edge with me. He surged into me roughly with a hoarse shout, his hand gripping my thigh as he spilled into me, his body shuddering with pure pleasure and his breath ragged against my skin.

I anchored myself to him, fingers in his hair as his mouth found mine again, his kiss aggressive and savage as he tasted me. My body sighed with satisfaction, hot and numb, loving how he filled me still, how he swallowed me up with his body, how he looked at me with such love and pleasure when his mouth parted from mine.

"I regret pushing you away, Lyra, trying to hide from you. I could've had you sooner if I hadn't." He kissed me briefly, swallowing the surprised whimper when he thrust himself playfully, making my body shiver sensetively. "But I have plenty of time now to taste you." He growled, forcing me to bite back a moan when he pulled himself free of me and knelt between my legs, dipping his head into the curve of my waist. He tasted me languidly, teeth scraping against my flushed skin, his song calling to me demandingly as he coaxed my relieved body back into a hot frenzy.

"Grigore, we've just made love." I stammered as he sucked at my skin roughly, leaving behind a mark before his hands gripped beneath my knees and bared me to him, making me blush madly.

"I want you, Lyra. I've been wanting you for so long, and now I get more than just dreams. Let me taste you." He smiled wolfishly, his dark eyes flashing with hot lust and his heady taste stroking my tongue seductively. "I don't want to hold back anymore."

I couldn't help the little whimper that escaped my mouth, my blush strengthening over my eyes and cheeks, but I didn't say no. I didn't want to. I wanted him, and he knew it.

"You can sleep at dawn." He growled huskily, and then his mouth was on me, his tongue delving into the wet heat, his hot mouth demanding and magic urging me to welcome him, swelling my body with such blazing pleasure I couldn't help but cry out for him and tangle my fingers desperately in his hair when he refused to let me move.

He didn't stop as he promised. He had me over and over again, encouraging me to explore him when I wanted and taking what he needed from me, my magic purring and singing with his possessive touch and fierce kiss, until finally he gathered me into his arms, tangling himself protectively about me as he urged me to sleep.

I nestled against his chest, my body aching sweetly and my mind exhausted, my chest swelling with love as his fingers traced my back, exploring me lightly. Sleep came faster than I wanted, taking me from Grigore and his arms, but never from his loving song.

*

Four days went by, a mix of bliss whenever Grigore made his love for me known and sadness when I saw Remus or his family, making me feel stabs of guilt whenever Grigore kissed me.

I sat in the kitchen, listening to Jen fuss over her mother as I repaired my boots. Lynda was attempting to cook and doing a good job of it but she often winced in pain or leaned on the table for support. I smiled at the scene and I was pleased that after four days of rest, Lynda was recovering. Jen however was struggling to get her to rest and fought against her mother again and again. It didn't work. Lynda wouldn't have it and tore on with what she had once done. I wondered if it was a way of coping. She had lost three of her daughters after all.