Master of Swords (25 page)

It felt so damn good to hold him. To be held by him.

I could stay like this forever,
she breathed in his mind.

I can't.
His grin flashed.
My dick won't let me.

Slowly he began to thrust, keeping it gentle though his body wanted nothing more than a hard, plunging ride. She stood it as long as she could before she had to start thrusting her hips, wanting more of him, faster.

Obeying her need, he lengthened his strokes, working deeper, harder. Lark curled her legs around his muscular backside and held on as the storm began to whirl again.

It seized them again in a delicious rush—the feeling of his cock in her core. Slick and hard, soft and tight, sensation volleying back and forth between them, each adding to the next.

His vampire appetite suddenly escaped his ruthless hold, and he dropped his head to her throat. Knowing what he needed, Lark threw her head back with a soft cry.

His fangs sank deep, deliciously stinging and hot. Gawain began to drink even as his hips worked.

She came, her entire body ringing with it like a bell, triggering his. Climax fed climax into a whipping firestorm. Distantly she felt herself scream, saw him lift his head to bellow.

It seemed they melted in the heat, fusing in a single great red pulse that went on and on.

 

Lark lay sprawled
under his delicious weight, unable to move. Even thinking seemed too much effort in the slowly cooling aftermath of all that pleasure.

Finally, sensing that he was a little heavy for her, Gawain rolled over with a groan and pulled her on top of him. She sighed and collapsed, boneless as a dishrag.

She heard his lazy thought.
Looks like it's time for another Round Table wedding. Those are always fun.

Lark's lips curled into a grin. “Why, Gawain, was that a proposal?”

He lifted his blond head and grinned at her. “Would you say yes if it was?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Yeah.” His grin broadened. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Suddenly the smile faded, and he searched her eyes with his. “I love you, you know.”

“Yeah.” She brushed back a lock of his hair. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“You know.”

“Know what?”

His green eyes began to glitter. “Do I have to tickle it out of you?”

Lark started to jerk away, but his powerful arms tightened. “Oh, no you don't!”

“Oh, yes I do.” Long fingers found her ribs and dug in, forcing a shriek of laughter from her lips.

“I'm going to turn you into a frog!” she panted between giggles as he tickled her ruthlessly.

“Ribbet. Come on, Lark, say it out loud.”

“I love you!”

His hands froze on her ribs, and the merry laughter in his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That's what I thought. Say it again.”

She twined her arms around his strong neck. “I love you. Love you, love you…”

He dragged her close.

Love you.

 

A week later,
John McGuin gave the bride away before a delighted Magekind assembly. It was impossible for even Lark to tell whether he or Tristan was more shamelessly proud.

Kel, meanwhile, lost the ring and had to conjure a new one.

The moment Arthur pronounced Gawain and Lark husband and wife, the gathered Majae filled the air with a blinding display of magical fireworks.

Deep in their kiss, neither noticed.