Not Magic Enough (5 page)

Slowly Dorovan lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss was so sweet, so gentle that Delae’s fragile heart broke…and opened to let him in.

She gave herself freely, asking nothing but what he was willing to give, save that he let her give what she could to no other… In a moment he knew it all, all her sorrow, her pain. He grieved for her and admired her for the strength and will that kept her going.

His mouth closed over hers, tasting her, her spirit, her soul, as she tasted him.

It was a gift she offered him and he to her and he knew it, knew how precious it was as something within him opened to take what she offered.

His long strong body was pressed against hers and to Delae’s surprise she found her hands skimming up the long lean muscles of his back and felt them flex beneath her hands as he drew her closer.

Fire such as she’d never known raced beneath her skin, setting heart, soul, mind and body ablaze.

Dorovan speared his long fingers into the rich abundance of her brilliant hair, feeling the curls close around each one as his mouth took hers. Her hair was silken and springy within his fingers, so different from his people. Suddenly he wanted to explore her, to seek out all the differences in her and to define the likenesses. Pleasure and anticipation rushed through him. What would it be to touch her, to feel her - to share with her?

In one movement he swept her up in his arms.

“Dorovan,” she breathed, half in protest.

Gently, he brushed his mouth over hers.

“Hush,” he said, “I know.”

So much stood between them. It was unheard of.

He did know and yet he still did it.

Delae wanted to weep; from relief, from need.

Dorovan set her on her feet by her bed only long enough to kiss her once again, sliding his hands over her to brush both her robe and the threadbare nightdress beneath it from her shoulders. They slid to the floor with a soft whisper of sound, leaving her bared and breathless.

 “Lovely,” he breathed and she looked up at him in astonishment and wonder that he, an Elf, should think so, think one of her race so.

He smiled to see it. To him she was.

She was so small - compared to most of his folk - but sweetly curved and rounded in all the places a woman should be.

Sliding his hands down her arms he caught her around the waist, looking down and over her, letting his pleasure and satisfaction show clearly, as he would to another of his kind.

In wonder, Delae touched his face - just the lightest caress of her fingertips along his cheek - as her lips parted.

His eyes seemed to glow, a small smile curved his beautiful mouth.

She took in every inch of his face. His beauty nearly destroyed her but what she saw in his eyes did, destroying her fragile composure.

Watching his face almost shyly, she ran her hands over Dorovan’s chest, feeling the strong curved muscles there and her eyes widened with delight.

Because he knew she wouldn’t, he stripped off his tunic and watched her eyes grow round as she spanned his chest with her hands. Dorovan almost had to laugh at her evident pleasure in touching him.

She looked so much like a child faced with a wonder that his heart broke for her. It was so little for him to give. And so much. He longed to caress her himself but he gave her this moment.

Delae couldn’t get enough of touching him, of running her hands over all the beautiful sculpted lines of him. He was amazing to look at, a delight to touch, his skin beneath her fingers like warmed silk stretched over the firm curves of his muscles.

Curiosity warred within her; what did the rest of him look like?

Her gaze flashed up to his, a little sideways glance, almost abashed, as she reached for the tie to his trews.

Slowly, she tugged on the string that closed them, unconsciously seductive.

Curious, she paused with one hand on the tie while she slid the other lightly along the silken cloth to feel what was beneath it… He was rigid beneath the cloth.

His pleasure was evident in his pale eyes.

It astonished her, who was so used to rejection.

Dorovan looked down, to see Delae looking up at him in obvious delight that she could do this to him.

For a moment, her gaze dropped, widened, and she blinked. Her lips parted on a sigh.

Had his body not already grown as taut as it had, it would’ve grown even more so then.

Involuntarily, he groaned.

Delae’s gaze shot up to his.

Another groan escaped him at her touch, at that look.

He held his gaze on hers as she tugged and his trews slid free.

Gently he curled an arm around her back, lifted her to the bed and lowered her onto it. She was so beautiful, her body so welcoming, her breasts full and lovely.

He lowered his mouth to one, kissed the rosy tip.

Pleasure rang through Delae so intensely she cried out as heat shot through her in brilliant flood. She’d never felt anything like it. It was wonderful, incredible…

This first time it would go quickly, Dorovan knew. He could sense that her need was too great, she’d gone too long without. As was his desire to salve that need. It broke his heart to think it, knowing her sweetness. Among his folk this they did here was very nearly a sacred act - a thing of joy, of sharing and of joining.

There would be time later for finesse - for deeper delight - now he would slake her thirst and his own. He could take his time later, the storm outside without wouldn’t pass soon, he knew. His own hunger for her surprised him even as he settled his hips in the cradle of hers - felt her heat, her dampness. The anticipation of pleasure sent a surge through him as her legs parted and she took him inside her. For a moment he held them both there, rapt in pleasure as she closed so tightly around him - buried in her warmth, in the heated dampness, in the pleasure of her, his eyes closed to savor every sweet inch of her around him.

Beneath him Delae arched, a soft cry of joy escaping her.

Opening his eyes, he looked down into her face - into the heartbreaking wonder on her face as he filled her.

With deliberate slowness, Dorovan moved deeper inside her as her hands caressed him - lowering his mouth to hers once again, to kiss her deeply.

Delae tangled her hands in the silken lengths of his hair as it streamed around her, feeling the long smooth strands brush over her breasts tantalizingly. Her body bent to take him deeper, to offer him more, to offer him everything she could give - the only thing she had, herself.

It was maddening, delirious to feel Dorovan inside her, to feel the glorious pleasure of as he filled her so very completely, stretching her, his mouth on hers, his hands on her.

Dorovan took her, in delight and a wonder of his own, sliding sweetly inside her until he claimed the very depths of her, one arm beneath and around her shoulders, the other on her hip. He raised his head to look down at her, her flaming hair spread across the thin pillows. Her blue eyes were half-lidded, fluttering, a smile of sheer glory on her lips to feel him so deep inside her.

Dorovan felt her close around him, tighten quickly and then her body arched as ecstasy burst through her.

He watched as brilliant color washed beneath her milky skin, saw her eyes widen with astonishment and then her lips curve in unadulterated delight.

It was a joy to watch her find her pleasure, to feel her pulse around him, stroke him within her.

He let her racing heart settle and then, looking down at her, began to move within her again.

To his delight he saw her eyes widen as she looked up at him. It was clear this was something she’d never known, that the one who loved her might withhold his own pleasure to give her that much more.

And himself.

He knew she watched as he lowered his mouth to her other breast, drew that tender tip into it and suckled it. Each motion of his mouth was echoed within her, her body caressed him, stroked him. He nibbled and she tightened sharply, her body jolting in response.

Delae couldn’t believe it, it was nearly more than she could bear - each movement of his mouth on her was hot and sweet, each sent a burst of pleasure down to where he filled her, to the core of her. She was in heaven, feeling him swell within her, to throb, to pulse.

The pleasure was no longer his to control, Dorovan felt his own ecstasy hover as she tightened around him in a rapture of her own. His pleasure swelled within her, expanded, and he thrust deeply, his cheek beside hers now as she clung to him. Her hips rose to meet his as he plunged into her and then he exploded, pleasure erupting from within him, filling her even as she cried out to feel him spill into her.

Delae had never known it could be like this, so beautiful, so wonderful. The few times her husband had touched her had seemed like nothing more than the mindless rutting of the beasts in the field. Instead her body still seemed to echo with their joined pleasure even as it hummed through her veins - their bodies still locked together.

When Dorovan could finally move - still buried inside her - he inched them up the bed so they were completely in it and then drew the covers over them, cradling Delae close.

He looked down at her, brushed the fiery strands of her hair from her face gently, pausing a moment to muse at the one curled around his finger. A smile curved his mouth.

“You are a part of my heart,” he said, in wonder, “as my people say a friend-of-my-heart.”

It wasn’t a soul-bond, but it was a bond of a kind and a true one, something he’d thought unknown and possibly impossible with one of the race of men. Yet it was there, unmistakably there. It was far more than he’d had and with Delae, this woman of men who was a wonder and a joy to him, who knew Honor as his people did, who was a balm to his heart.

As he was to hers.

Impossible as it was, it was what it was and for all the difficulty of it, all the difficulty it would bring him, Dorovan couldn’t find it in himself to be sorry for it.

Delae looked up at him, hearing in the tenderness in his voice all she needed to hear, all she could accept. It was enough and more than enough. Her heart filled, where it had been empty for so long.

“Friend of the heart,” she said, softly, a smile curving her lips. “Yes, you are.”

And he was.

Outside the storm raged, rattling the shutters, sending blasts of cold through the gaps between them. Awakening with Delae’s soft, sweetly scented body against his was a delight. Dorovan found it wasn’t just her hair that glowed so warmly but her body, too. She was like a small banked fire that radiated heat. Gently drawing her against him - he nestled himself between her smooth thighs and sleepily stroked her, cupping the full globes of her breasts in his hands. She was delightful as she shivered to awareness - her body heating for him in quite another way, growing tantalizingly damp.

Delae found herself aching to be filled and then Dorovan’s hand slid down her belly to comb through the tight curls between her thighs.

It was breathtaking as he touched her - coaxed her body to fire and then to flame at the very moment he entered her. A soft cry burst from her as he drove deeply into her.

Almost desperately, Delae pressed back - the heat inside her a demand which needed to be answered.

She was so wet and so very warm and she’d so needed to be filled.

Her soft cry fired Dorovan’s blood and he answered it, touching her lightly, caressing her until her body hummed, until she tightened around him again as he thrust inside her.

He felt her body tremble and he was lost, exploding inside her, filling her in quite another way.

Delae had never felt so sated, so thoroughly eased. She smiled and sighed.

In all her years, in that moment she knew true happiness for the first time, a peace and a joy that had always been denied her.

More than content, Dorovan drew her against him, still inside her and quite pleased to be there. He opened his eyes.

Now there was time for details.

Her bedchamber was like her, small, warm and welcoming. There were touches of Delae here, dried sweet herbs in a bowl on the mantel that lent their scent to the room. Simple but brightly dyed draperies the color of sunset covered the windows, a small tapestry hung from on a wall.