Emins’ Mate(36)

He saw her logic, saw her words. And in that, saw that she would win. He knew that she would go. And he would go beside her. He just hadn't realized that he loved her. Not until this squeezing, petrified second. Because the thought of her going back to where Navuka had captured her, of potentially being captured again, that was as if his own heart was going to be taking those risks.

And because, for him, with her, to feel was to show, he took both of her hands in his. "You're my heart, kvietka. It walks around in your chest now. There's nothing in here anymore," he thumped his chest once for emphasis. "All my love is here," he laid a hand on her chest. "You're my heart."

He rocked back on his heels and stood to pace. "And they took you. They hurt you." A breath burst out of him, like fire from a dragon. "They hurt you. They cannot hurt you again."

He turned to her, scooping her up from where she sat, crushing her to his chest. "They cannot have you. They cannot have you again."

Glory knew, instinctively, that there was a time to soothe, to heal, and there was a time to let a storm rage its course. He wouldn't be calm until he let the fire inside of him burn clear out. And maybe because of how close they'd grown, or because she was just as scared as he was, she felt that twin fire burn in her chest.

She clung to him as he clung to her.

It was cruel, really, that they had to let go of one another to move closer. That he had to set her on the kitchen table to be able to tear off her clothes. She didn't want to unleash the hold she had on his neck to rip at his pants, but that was life. It made them both mad with frantic frustration. She ripped at his belt buckle while he slid off one of her shoes and then the other, yanked her pants down her legs. They stalled around her ankles but he didn't care anymore.

He mounted the table behind her, his t-shirt somehow torn, his pants around his knees, his cock huge and straining for her. Her shirt was pulled up enough to bare her breasts and he shoved it up even further as he flipped her around onto all fours. He did the most cursory of checks to make sure she was ready to take him, and she was, as always, dripping wet for his touch.

He didn't prolong anything before he thrust inside of her. They both cried out at the fit. The tight. The wet. The intensity of it.

He was wild for her and she took it. She knew they both needed this.

Emin thrust and thrust into her from behind, starting up an inhuman rhythm. Every beat sent Glory just a little bit further forward on the table. The table shook on its flimsy legs and they both cried out when the back two legs gave way under them, sending them crashing to the floor in a tumble of limbs.

Glory laughed and sprawled over Emin, but the tension wasn’t over for him.

“We broke the table!” Glory yelped, grinning. “Dora says one of the signs of good sex is that you break stuff while you’re doing it.”

He picked her up in his arms, her hair a fiery spill over her shoulder, her eyes so green they broke his heart.

He needed her in a way he’d never needed anything else his entire life. More than sleep or air or water. He needed her in a way that tore at the very fabric of his soul. He twisted her so that her legs came around his waist, her pussy balanced just over the spear of his cock. She trembled, a smile still playing over her lips and tried to sink down on him, but he held her away.

The frantic realization of his love for her pumped through his veins still. Like adrenaline. But the actual love, there was nothing panicky about that. It was a deep, deep ocean inside him. So calm and constant, he’d been able to look past it these few weeks. But no more. He couldn’t ignore it.

He looked around at all the canvasses littered around his house, painting after painting he’d done since he met her. And he realized that part of him had never been able to hide it. She was there in every single brush stroke. He’d loved her with every breath he’d taken since he met her. And there was the evidence.

She tried to sink down on him again, but he held her still. He stood, his feet planted wide, in the middle of the wreckage of his kitchen table, with her wrapped around him like ivy. He felt as if he could lift her like this for the rest of their lives.

Resolution hardened inside him like water freezing in a pipe. He was going to burst his cage. And that was alright with him.

“Marry me,” he said, his voice low.

Glory’s face instantly sobered. She looked up at him, her eyes clear and calm.

“Yes,” she said immediately.

His mouth opened to say more. But he clapped it closed.

“Yes,” he repeated.

“Yes,” she said again.

He felt both cloudy and extremely clear at the same confusing moment. All he knew was her. He speared up into her and her back arched, her head falling back.