But Edith didn't care, forgetting about his teleportation while grabbing him in a frenzy to kiss and touch whatever part of his body she could reach.
Isaac was just as ravenous, and the euphoria of her climax offered the situation a dreamlike quality. It felt as if there wasn't a single part of her body that wasn't touching his, and she couldn't get enough.
But their kisses soon slowed, growing more thorough, their hands taking the time to explore until Isaac lifted his head and gazed down at her in silent, profound appreciation.
Edith could barely catch her breath, instinctively raising her hips against him, a movement that caused his cock to drag against her slick flesh—and her eyes slid shut.
“I want you so bad, Isaac. T-tell me what to—mmph!”
The exclamation came when he kissed her again, effectively cutting her off. At the same time, he positioned his hips and reached down to grasp his straining shaft before breaking his lips from hers. Edith wanted to finish asking what she needed to do, but the words turned into a gasp when the cap of his erection pushed just inside.
Isaac nuzzled her neck in a manner that almost seemed uncharacteristically gentle. Or perhaps he was doing it for himself—his breathing was ragged as if he were fighting to go slow, and she vaguely recalled that he possessed a great deal of strength. So perhaps he feared hurting her?
Edith stroked his back at the thought, holding him as close as possible as he sank deeper inside her body until she tensed—his girth was already stretching her wide.
Isaac didn't seem oblivious to the fact either, his hips coming to a halt as he pressed kisses all over her neck and jaw. But he didn't tell her to relax, nor did he direct her in any other way. He merely thrust his hips forward again, and didn't stop this time until she cried out—in pain.
Edith dug her fingers into his back because of a tight pinch, rasping for breath as he lifted his head to gaze down at her. She couldn't tell if he wanted to look into her eyes, or if he was trying to make certain she was adjusting, but she finally managed to rasp, “I'm okay.”
“I know,” he confirmed breathlessly. “Just pacing myself for you.”
She nodded, knowing this was driving him just as insane. It was all so overwhelming she could barely think straight, and if he lost control, he could really hurt her.
But her discomfort had vanished, leaving behind a tight clench and the sensation of being filled completely—or more than completely—and the need to move was growing.
Would it cause more pain? Only one way to find out.
Edith parted her lips to speak, but the words never came out. Isaac's head had dipped to hers, and his hips thrust without warning.
Gasping, she clutched him tight as he groaned, expecting a slow start. But after that first thrust, he continued moving, his cock easily slipping in and out of her wet walls.
She tensed, gritting her teeth. It wasn't good, but it didn't hurt either. In fact, the only thing she found enjoyable was the way he was growling in pleasure above her. So she lifted her legs higher by his sides, hoping it might help.
But she simply couldn't figure out what the big deal about intercourse was.
“Isaac, I don't think I like th—ah!”
Her gasp came as he fully embedded himself inside her, sparking a sensation she hadn't expected, and with each subsequent movement, it bloomed.
Pleasure.
“Oh!” she drew out on a breathy voice, squeezing her eyes shut. Something about the way he was hitting so deep was … sublime, and it intensified with each reentry.
Hearing the surprise in her voice, Isaac finally lifted his head and asked with an arrogant grin, “You were saying?”
“Spoke too soon,” she admitted, whimpering as his hips worked rhythmically between her legs. “Way too fucking soon!”
She looked up to see that devilish grin on his face—just as he started moving harder, driving inside with more strength than before.
And Edith never wanted it to end.
“Oh, yes! Please don't stop … it's so … mmm!”
As if the tight clutch of her wet walls around his cock wasn't enough, watching Edith discover why sex could be so good was driving Isaac insane.
But actually hearing it? He couldn't pace himself any longer, and was honestly surprised he'd done so to begin with.
Grabbing the back of her right knee, he hooked his left arm around it and braced the other hand by her head. The movement drew her hips up higher, allowing him deeper entry, and Isaac took full advantage.
His hips started moving harder than before, though he did his best to make certain he didn't take things too far. Even still, with the building friction and the way her wet heat gloved his cock so damned tightly, he didn't think he'd actually last long.
And if her response was any indication, she wasn't going to either.
“Oh fuck!” she cried, sounding surprised by the harder movements. “Isaac!”
Grunting, Isaac thrust as deep as possible, wrenching another cry from her lips that mingled with his low growl of pleasure. “You're so much better than dreams, angel … Wanna fuck you so hard the bed breaks.”
Edith was incapable of responding, her expression … pained. A sliver of awareness broke through Isaac's pleasured haze. This was her first time, and he nearly stopped moving altogether—
“Please do it!”
Her sudden, rasped command stole all of his doubts away. Gods, she's actually beneath me, begging me to fuck her hard. Isaac nearly lost his seed at the thought alone, causing him to urgently grasp hold of the one fact that would keep him steady. Too soon for her.
“Not this time, angel,” he rasped. “Need to feel your sweet pussy clenching me first … need you to feel my cock fucking you nice and slow.”
Edith's nails scoured his back, squirming beneath him with a desperate, choked cry. “C-can't stand it!”
Shaken by the statement, he groaned, sinking his shaft back inside. “Does it feel good like that, angel? Because I can't fucking describe it … ”
Her back arched with her desperate nod, and Isaac knew he wasn't going to last. So he slipped his thumb between her thighs with another deep thrust, groaning, “You're so good, baby … ”
She bucked when he rolled her clitoris in circles, her inner walls clenching his cock like a vice. He took that opportunity to speed up, his hips working in precise movements until she started whimpering, then harder, growling with each thrust, “You're so—fucking—GOOD!”
In an instance, Edith seized up, clawing his back with her cries. “Ahh fuck! I-I'm coming!”
Time seemed to stop, and Isaac held out for as long as possible, drawing out his mate's pleasure as his name was chanted with her spasms, and nothing was better than feeling her exploding around him for the first time. The sense of connection it forged while knowing she wasn't about to disappear, or that he was soon to awaken to an empty bed was indescribable.
Not even his own orgasm could compare—and it hit harder than a fucking nuke.
“Edith!” Slamming his hips home, his first eruption of semen shot deep inside her quim, dazing him. He barely even realized he was praising her for giving him this, for being so damned sexy, and the second spurt only deepened his euphoria.
It felt as if he'd given her much more than just his release, and he gave it eagerly, finally collapsing on top of her with a loud groan.
Panting in time with Edith's heavy exhalations, it seemed like an eternity passed before any semblance of rational thought came to mind, and it was a simple truth. Just like I thought. Life altering.
Not only was he unbelievably overwhelmed, he felt complete, knowing he'd crave this connection with Edith for eternity. It reminded him of his need to avow himself as her mate, and the next chance he got, he was going to capitalize.
The second thought that surfaced once he'd caught his breath was to wonder if he was actually crushing her. She wasn't complaining, but Isaac pushed himself over anyway, coming to rest on his back with her
head against his upper chest.
The movement shifted him inside her, and the simple motion threatened to make him hard again already. But sadly, he'd probably hurt Edith too much to do more so soon, and would have to hold back—
“Again,” Edith rasped, lifting her head to kiss him passionately.
Isaac's pulse sped up at the request, particularly when she rocked her hips over him, making him as hard as he'd been before they'd started.
Groaning, he grasped her hips to keep them still. But, as if Edith knew it would drive him insane, she broke the kiss and whispered needfully, “Please, Isaac?”
“Fuck,” he cussed, unable to resist lifting his hips to meet her. “You sure, angel?”
Moaning breathlessly, she nodded, showing her need by rolling her hips over him as if testing the waters. “Yes. Just … one more time, okay?”
“One?” He growled, threading his fingers through the hair at her nape to hold her close, promising, “You're not leaving this bed for the rest of the day, angel.”
Twenty-Four
• • •
“So when you get your staff, all you have to do is take it back to Mystikkar and gain immortality by going for a dip in an oversized bucket of spirit piss.”
“Isaac!” Edith chided, but was laughing too much to make it effective. “It's called the Aeonic Well!”
“I know, but you said it harnesses spirit energy that looks like water, so … ” Isaac trailed as if it were perfectly logical.
She shook her head at his analogy while he grinned in amusement. Such was the way most of their conversations had gone since his arrival two evenings prior, and Edith's only complaint was that their peaceful interlude couldn't last longer.
That first day, Isaac was as good as his word. The couple stayed in bed until the early evening, making love three times in a row. After their vigorous exertions, Edith passed out, sleeping for the rest of the night and waking just before sunrise to a breakfast tray of various sliced fruits on breaded crackers, drizzled with sweet sauce.
Isaac had acquired the meal from the kitchen, thinking she might be hungry—and this time, she let him feed her.
The act seemed to give him a great deal of pleasure, and her favorite part was the look on his face when she'd sucked a bit of sauce from his fingers. The fine print would've read you're about to be pinned and pounded.
But after their third encounter the previous evening, she'd complained of tenderness, leaving Isaac reluctant to do more for at least another day, and Edith agreed. For as much as she'd enjoyed their intimacies, and was secretly looking forward to more aggressive experiences, she didn't want to wear herself out—particularly when they were scheduled to fly to Dra'Kai's temple on the back of a drake that evening.
As it turned out, Ulric managed to arrange transport with the Skyriders in quick time, determined to get Edith the claw she required as soon as possible. Some of this was due to guilt—the draconian was blaming himself for her accident on the barge, and Isaac said he'd never seen his friend so remorseful.
But no matter how disagreeable the incident was, Edith felt her unexpected ride over a waterfall was fated if only because it took her to a piece of her staff.
So she didn't hold it against him, and neither did Isaac.
Thankfully, the declaration seemed to console Ulric, and he informed them they'd be leaving as soon as the Skyriders sent word of their readiness to travel that evening, giving Edith and Isaac the day to tour Nalona.
Ulric and Charlotte joined them, and Edith wasn't oblivious to their satisfaction over how well their friends were getting along. Charlotte also took the chance to worm details out of her when Isaac and Ulric weren't in earshot.
Later that afternoon, they returned to Ulric's family home, and Edith sat down with Isaac in front of a fire burning in the guestroom hearth to work on opening her puzzle box. It was a task she simply hadn't felt right attempting while he wasn't around, and the moment she pried the lid open, they shared the candy stored inside.
That's when he'd asked what would happen once Edith acquired the last piece for her staff, and made an analogy about spirit piss.
Trying to stifle her snickers, she retorted, “Just don't ever say that around other mages.”
“Now I have to say it around them.”
“No!” she rushed out. “I'll make you take another blood oath.”
Isaac muttered like she'd just confiscated his favorite toy, promising, “Fine, I won't say a word. But speaking of blood oaths, I have something to give you.”
“What?”
Rummaging through his pockets, he extracted two items; the tracking medallion he'd promised to give her two weeks ago, and his pocketknife.
Handing the medallion over, Edith examined the smooth, coin shaped object and mentioned, “I wonder if I can augment my staff with this so I won't lose it.”
“What if you lost your staff?”
“That's impossible. A mage's staff is an extension of their soul. Even when you see them without it, it's still there.”
Isaac thought that over and suggested with a grin, “So you'd augment your soul?”
“Yep,” she confirmed as he flipped his knife open and questionably held it out to her.
Gazing at the blade in confusion, Edith asked. “What?”
“I still need to avow myself to you.”
Realizing he wanted her to draw his blood again, she sighed, pushing his hand away. “No, Isaac.”
Looking between her and his knife, he asked in confusion, “Why the hell not? I thought you wanted more between us.”
Grumbling, Edith closed the puzzle box, setting it aside before answering, “I do, but you told me I needed to do things however I'm comfortable doing them, and I'm not ready to accept an eternal commitment yet. Besides, I don't want you caring about me just because you're compelled by blood.”
“That's not how it works,” he explained. “I'm not vowing to care for you, I'd be vowing that a blood oath could never be as strong as our natural bond or the way I already feel.”
Edith blinked, drawing out an enlightened, “Oh.” That was better than what she'd assumed the vow entailed—yet she still refused.
“Okay, but … not right now.”
Isaac eyed her considerately, guessing, “Because you're still mortal?”
“Yes,” she admitted easily, unable to stop thinking about how quickly she could've died in the minotaur camp, or how easily something similar could happen again. “I wanna be with you now, but if something happens to me—”
“Nothing's gonna happen to you,” he stubbornly insisted.
“If it does,” she countered, “I don't want you stuck with an eternal oath like that.”
Leaning in closer with a serious look in his fiery eyes, Isaac pointed out, “Mortal or immortal, oath or no oath, it's not gonna matter. If something happened to you either way, I'd be fucked.”
“But that's not the only point,” she argued, then let a frustrated sigh and stood from her spot on the floor.
Now that it was getting close to sunset, the Skyriders would send word any minute, and Edith didn't particularly relish the thought of riding on a drake in the white shirt and navy blue skirt she'd worn touring Nalona that day. So she walked over to the dresser for a change of clothes while adding, “It's the symbolism, Isaac. You wanna vow that you'll commit for eternity, but I can't give it back. So can't we just work at this relationship for now and worry about the eternal stuff later?”
During her question, Edith briefly scowled over her limited clothing selection. How the hell did I get so many dresses and skirts? Most of her available garments consisted of that very thing, and the rest was being washed.
Still, she had a knee length jacket that could be worn over her current outfit, so she'd have to make due.
Grabbing the item from the drawer, Edith listened as Isaac stood and approached her, asking, “Then you're saying you wanna wait until you're immortal?”
“No!” Edith snapp
ed. “I'm saying I wanna … date first. I care about you, Isaac, but I need time to adjust to all of this.”
Donning her jacket, she turned to face him, expecting to find him upset by the decree. Yet Isaac looked as carefree as ever, and even shrugged with his agreement.
“Alright, we'll date, and I'm not trying to be pushy, angel.” Reaching up, he traced his fingers along her jaw and smiled, explaining, “You know I feel connected to you, and after yesterday, it's gotten a hell of a lot stronger. So I just thought it was a good time. That's all.”
Hearing that, Edith groaned, realizing she was snapping at him needlessly, and wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe the urgency she now felt to complete the Final Calling and acquire her staff had her on edge. Or it was the constant need to be mindful of her spell casting.
She didn't regret her expenditures—if she hadn't sped up Isaac's regeneration, she'd soon be riding on a drake in a skirt without him. But the inability to cast without worry of losing her magic altogether was getting extremely old.
Then there was the matter of assassins, and Rothario, and who even knew when or if the Brute would show up again. Either of those issues alone would've irritated her, but all of them together?
It was a heavy weight, and she was unfairly taking her frustration out on Isaac.
“I'm sorry,” she muttered, leaning in to hug him—and the way he so readily wrapped her in his arms was extremely heartening. “I'm just pissed at all the setbacks, and dreading this flight to the temple.”
“We'll make it,” he promised, kissing the top of her head, then added more seriously, “but before we go, I need to make something clear.”
“What?”
Placing his fingers beneath her chin, he raised it so that she was gazing into his fiery eyes. The way his pupils constricted into thin slits against the light from the hearth made the color more vivid, and somehow, the sight of them added an undeniable air of gravity to his reply.
“You're worried something's gonna happen to you, and I know getting shot made you feel helpless, didn't it? Like you don't have control.”
The Final Calling Page 21
