Loving the Forbidden Prince

Chapter 192 – Love In The Quiet

AYLETH

With a hitching sigh, Ayleth let Etan lower her to the cloak on the hay. There was a scramble as they both tugged and shuffled to remove their breeches, but Etan's eyes never closed, he never took his gaze from her, and her skin prickled under his gaze.

When they were finally both free of their clothing, she opened her arms and he lowered himself over her, nestling between her thighs and blowing out a breath as their bodies found each other, her soft heat to his hard strength. Ayleth's hips rose instinctively, seeking him, but Etan didn't take her immediately.

Back arched to keep them together, he braced, one hand on either side of her shoulders, staring down at her, his biceps and chest tensed to take his weight. She stroked his muscles, letting her hands follow the lines of them, simultaneously hungry and aching for him, and so content, so grateful to savor the sight of him.

"Ayleth," he murmured, his voice dark and husky. "Please don't lose your trust for me."

She tore her eyes from his chest to meet his gaze. Their eyes locked and her tears wanted to return because he stared at her with such a mingling of sadness and joy, she couldn't contain the emotion welling within her.

"I love you, Etan," she whispered. "No matter what. No matter my fear. I love you. I cannot explain it. But everything in me needs you."

He dropped his head for a moment, huffing a breath. "I know exactly what you mean."

She cupped his face, drew up his chin so he would look at her again. "Then we will get through this," she whispered. "I can only… hope for that. I will not give up. If you do not either, we will get through this."

He nodded and for a moment his jaw tensed as if he fought his own tears. But then he leaned down, his lips brushing her in the softest, gentlest kiss—a butterfly's wings on her skin.

Ayleth closed her eyes and held his face, returning the kiss—tender and slow, every slide and brush raising the tiny hairs on her arms and neck.

Etan took all his weight on one hand, sliding the other to the back of her neck, his fingers dragging into her hair, cupping the back of her head as he kissed her—still slowly, still gently—but more insistent. A question that required an answer.

And answer, she did. Body writhing, mouth open but lips soft, she let her tongue taste his, darting, seeking, teasing as the coil of desire for him spread from her belly, to her chest, to her limbs, until her body hummed with need.

Then finally, with a shaking breath, he touched her.

He broke the kiss to watch his own hand slide from her neck to her shoulder, his fingertips trailing down her arm, slowly, so lightly she might have thought the hay tickled. But her skin pebbled with goosebumps in the trail of his touch, all the way down her arm, then up the underside of her forearm to where she held his face, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin inside her wrist.

Turning his hand under hers, he twined their fingers and took her hand from his face, placing it over her head until their locked hands pressed into the hay. His eyes returned to her face for a heated flash, then he leaned back, keeping her hand pinned, and began to kiss his way down her body.

His lips were a dragging, teasing miracle, lighting cold fires on her skin so that she shivered and her hips bumped his. Then he reached the peak of her breast and paused, his eyes rising to hers as his mouth hovered over her.

She raised her chin to look at him, to plead with her eyes, and Etan smiled, chuckling when she made a vexed noise and arched her back to bring her nipple to his lips, sighing when he finally opened his mouth over her, teasing that hardened peak with his tongue.

Ayleth gasped and clutched his head with her free hand, pulling him in as he sucked and laved, her hips rolling, back arching. "Please, Etan!" she breathed.

Letting his teeth graze her nipple, he moved to the other one and Ayleth's breath ratcheted up as he sucked hard—almost to the point of pain—sparkling lights of pleasure crackling through her, to the place where he'd begun to roll his hips, pressing against her, each slide promising more, threatening to join them.

For a long moment they were both lost in the sensations of skin on skin, of hot breaths and slick tongues. Etan's shoulders began to shake and Ayleth worried he was losing strength, but then he tore his mouth from her breast and threw his head back, tilting his hips as, with a shuddering groan, he slid into her.

The invasion was swift and breathtaking. Ayleth's voice broke in her throat against her will. Her free hand clapped to his neck and she gripped him, clinging as they moved together, Etan's thrusts aggressive, but held at the peak until Ayleth was certain she couldn't breathe for the pleasure of the reunion of their bodies.

Her voice broke again, and Etan dropped, releasing her hand, covering her, taking her mouth to silence her cries so she wouldn't be heard. And as his tongue stroked hers in time with his body, he sucked in hard, breath shuddering out to thunder in her ear.

Ayleth clung to him, pulled him closer, her fingers digging into his shoulders, his back as she whimpered and trembled, unable to contain the sheer joy of having him again, of being as close as two people can be.

He was her husband, and she needed him. She'd been so afraid. So afraid.

Tears leaked from her closed lids even as she smiled into his kiss. Etan cupped a hand over her head, holding her to him, tasting her tears and whispering his love, kissing them from her skin, promising everything—his love, his faithfulness, his presence, his protection.

And Ayleth's heart pounded, her body sang and she arched into him, desperate, as her pleasure rose, riding the wave of him, higher, and higher.