CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Well I think it's time
to get ready…
to realize just what I
have found…
“I have been only half
of what I am…
it's all clear to me
now.
“My heart is on fire…
my soul's like a wheel
that's turnin'…
“My love is alive…
my love is alive.
- Gary Wright
Vaerth Parihn let her robe slip to the floor, and stood, at long
last, again revealed before the man she loved.
God preserve me, he thought.
It's a wonder I wasn't
just struck blind.
She was everything
Luciano Mantovanni had always envisioned…
…and, he could now admit to himself that over the years he'd
envisioned her more than once.
While there had never been any
doubt in his mind that Parihn would prove indescribably beautiful, as she had
then and now, she didn't look wild or unrestrained—like he wagered most men
would have imagined she'd be, with the last vestige of pheromone and hormone
suppressants now purged from her system. T’Vaar’s training and her own
incredible determination to master herself had given her a degree of control
none of her kind had ever possessed. And now…
…you seem almost shy.
Parihn, of course, had a flawless, breathtaking body—a body for
which men would kill, and almost certainly, in the past, had. It had once more
become immediately evident when she'd
shed her clothes, too, that the contours of her form was far more aesthetically pleasing than one could imagine from seeing
her in standard fleet garb; no doubt she'd always consciously chosen a cut of
uniform that greatly downplayed, rather than accentuated, that fact.
Always the prudent professional, he thought. I should
probably thank her… no doubt Liberty's
bridge efficiency would have been more of a problem if she'd been… dressing
to impress… these last four years.
He smiled.
I can hear Brett King’s
wolf whistles from here.
After a long moment, Parihn turned, moved to the window, and
rested her hands on the sill.
“So this is what it
feels like,” she murmured.
“Cara mia… what do you mean?”
Her voice was barely audible.
“I've never before been
nervous when a man looked at me, Cicero,” she told him. “I've rarely thought,
'Does he think I'm beautiful? Does he want me?'… because I haven't cared.” She closed her eyes, and hugged
herself.
“Now I find myself caring… suddenly, it's very important to me.
“I know it sounds silly,
but… please tell me you approve.”
Her honesty was touching, and he treasured the words… both for
what it cost to say them, and because they came from her.
He told Parihn what he felt.
“You're an angel wrought
in emerald.”
He wasn't certain for a moment whether she'd heard him… until her
demure, heartfelt, “Thank you.
“I'd like to look at the stars for a while, if it's all right with
you,” she told him softly.
For a brief moment, Mantovanni didn't move, instead simply
watching her lovely, slender form in profile, as she gently swayed to some
internal rhythm, bathed in starlight.
Then, she added, “And I'd like to feel you inside me while I do.
“No practiced preliminaries… no oh-so-clever foreplay, from either
of us… just the simple act I think we both want more than anything else—to be together.”
It didn't sound vulgar, or even forward.
It simply sounded right.
And he wasn't about to argue.
Silently, he moved, almost afraid to reach for her—as if she might
disappear like a fairy's glamour. Savoring the moment, he caressed Parihn's
arms, and kissed her shoulder—as much, he admitted, to assure himself she was
really there as to please her.
She shivered.
Then, he carefully held himself ready.
“Other than our one night together, it's been some time for me,”
he noted with dry self-deprecation. “I hope I remember how to do this.”
She answered, “It's not
something you forget,
There was a bittersweet quality to her gentle jest… and suddenly,
the man many thought was made of frost found himself distressed, feeling for
the life she'd been forced to lead so long ago... and one final time, only
weeks past.
“I'm sorry,” he offered, knowing how pathetically inadequate the words
actually were.
“Shh… I'm here, now,
with you… and it's just where I want
to be.”
Still, he hesitated.
“Are you sure you're ready? I don’t want to hurt you.” A moment
later, he muttered disgustedly, “Well, doesn't that make me sound like a pretentious jackass?”
To his relief, Parihn glanced back over her shoulder and smiled…
then reached back to briefly hold his hand.
“I know what you meant… and it's very
sweet, my love…” Her eyes held his.
“…but I've been ready for you a long time.”
Parihn nearly burst into tears: No one had ever touched her with
such reverence and regard. She still didn't know if she really deserved it.
He took his slow, careful time parting her folds, easing into her
with a restraint that belied the trembling she felt in his hands.
She sighed in utter contentment… and he stopped immediately,
almost before he'd begun.
“Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.
“Of course… I really don't need you to be that cautious,
“Ohhhh… my,” Parihn
breathed… then, strangely enough, started to giggle.
“What's so funny?” he asked, a touch stern.
The laughter was bubbling up… and she knew not to restrain it. For
a moment, she shook with genuine mirth, caught between the humor she felt and
the incredible sensations he was gifting to her. She heard him chuckle, too, in
shared emotion—trusting both that he'd also find it amusing… and simply happy
that she did.
After a moment, Parihn caught her breath, and the wanton in her
answered.
“I was just pleasantly reminded that you're certainly hung like a jackass—among other mulish qualities you possess.”
She paid for that, when he gave a sudden thrust, and she gasped
with pleasure.
“Ohhhh!… just like that.”
For long moments, he did, removing only slightly before sheathing
much of himself again.
Parihn did her best to contain herself, not wanting to spoil the
moment's quiet perfection… but despite his gentleness, the passion between them
built in intensity until, eventually, she couldn't help it, and let forth with
a moan that broke the silence rather definitely.
“I'm sorry,” she murmured, embarrassed… and having no idea why. The Orion blushed as she hadn't in 20 years.
His hands moved to caress her shoulders reassuringly.
“You must know I'm not
going to be upset when I inspire you to make noise, Parihn—as long as you're
not snoring.”
She laughed throatily… then moaned again when he caught her by
surprise with his sudden resumption. Now he chose the rhythm—slow, lengthy
withdrawal followed by deep, returning stroke—and, unconsciously, Parihn rose
onto her toes to better accept him.
“Don’t… don't stop,” she begged. “I need…”
“Whatever you want… as long as you like,” he assured her.
Despite their desperate desire, they continued to let the
culmination build gradually, the journey so sweet and wonderful that they
lingered for some time along the way.
Eventually, though, it became too much for her to bear; she
reached back to again clasp his hand, suddenly panting. Then, Parihn stiffened,
shuddered… and, finally, cried out, lost for a long moment in the throes of a
truly wrenching release.
It was some while before she came back to herself. Parihn glanced
around, and colored again when she saw
“Thank you,” she breathed, again near tears.
“I liked that very much.”
Though Parihn had, at times, climaxed while servicing others as a
courtesan, just now had been different.
With this man, she also felt it in her heart.
“Now you,” she whispered
demandingly. “I want you to be happy, too.”
“Oh, I'm happy, but…” and suddenly his voice was tempered steel.
“…I'm not done with you,
yet.”
He wrapped his arms around Parihn, gently pinning her own to their
sides. She felt herself slowly, effortlessly lifted off the ground… but her
moment of confusion passed when she felt him once more position his hips with
deliberation and intent, sliding his long, thick shaft along her sex with
excruciating slowness, until at last they were aligned…
…and, with a single satisfying thrust, he joined with her again.
For a moment, he held her there, contentedly impaled. Then, he
begin to rhythmically piston himself, hard,
driving his entire length home, relentlessly…
…not that she wanted him to relent in the least.
As
He made the right choice, and went with option two.
They had made love once already, joining with a sweetness that
she'd cherished. Now, he was simply taking
her, claiming her as his woman, his possession, in the most private, primal
way a man could.
To be held so… toes dangling off the ground, curling and
uncurling… completely enwrapped and possessed by him… Parihn felt herself
totally his…
…and reveled in it.
Even that thought faded,
however; he soon had her incoherent with delight… and, for a long time, kept
her there, reaching peak after peak, until she'd practically sagged in his
arms, whimpering her surrender to him.
For a moment, he rested, more for her than himself…
…and then, with a ragged breath that told her the joy was very mutual, he renewed his efforts, so
urgent for that ultimate moment he had her ascending towards yet another of her
own. Parihn could feel him swell as he neared his own completion, and she
heaved an almost desperate groan as he stretched her even more.
This time, they found that other place together.
When, a few minutes later, he set her down and withdrew, she
turned and embraced him.
“Take me to bed,” she commanded.
Her surrender had clearly been rescinded.
As Parihn's captain swept her up in his arms, she slipped her own
around his neck, and kissed him lightly.
The imp in her, though, couldn't resist.
“If you're wondering how all that was…”
He reminded her again why she so loved him by parrying her pun
before she could employ it, warning, “If you say, 'I saw stars…'“
Parihn batted her eyelashes, and replied with an innocent
sounding, “…you'll make me see them
again?”
Now Luciano Mantovanni grinned, and she shivered at the sight; the
wolf had clearly taken her as his own… and she knew that nothing would ever be
the same.
“I promise,”
Vaerth Parihn realized, dreamily, that she could look forward to a
starlit night.
Chapter Thirty-Four Interlude Eight