"Will I ever be able to touch you?" she murmured.
"Yes, Mo Chroí. Just not this time. It's been so long. Please, just not this time." She nodded, and I used my hand to guide my cock to her entrance. Her cheeks were still beautifully flushed, her lips wet and swollen from my kisses, and I gazed at her as I pressed inside, my body breaking out in a light sheen of sweat at the tight clench of her warm inner muscles squeezing my shaft. It felt so bloody good, so good. So right. Inevitable. This was my victory, I realized with sudden clarity. Right now, this very moment. Not money, or a company, or any amount of power. This. But it still wasn't enough. More, more, more, I wanted more. I was buried inside Lydia and even now, I wanted more of her. I always had. I felt drunk and joyful and confused and vulnerable.
I began moving and a burst of pleasure made me gasp. "Ya feel so good," I murmured as I moved more quickly, the intense pleasure gripping me so I couldn't help but to speed up my thrusts, reaching for the climax I needed so desperately. I reached up and laced my fingers with Lydia's, holding her arms over her head on the pillow as I brought my mouth back to hers, thrusting my tongue in her mouth to the rhythm of our lovemaking. She wrapped her legs around my hips and moaned into my mouth. Goosebumps broke out on my skin as I held my orgasm at bay, waiting for the one I sensed might be approaching for Lydia.
After about a minute, I let go of her hands, balancing myself on one elbow next to her on the bed and bringing my other hand between us to find her small spot, still sweetly swollen. I used my thumb to rub it gently as I pounded into her, filling and retreating.
We were both moaning, Lydia meeting me thrust for thrust, when her body tensed, and she broke from my mouth, sobbing out another orgasm. The feel of her falling apart beneath me—the clenching of her inner muscles—sent me flying over the edge, and I thrust into her one final time, groaning out my own climax as the pleasure swirled through my abdomen, to my cock, and all the way down to my toes. I gasped. "Holy fuck, Lydia, God." I had never come so hard in my life. I circled my hips slowly, trying to draw out every last bit of pleasure.
Finally, I pulled out of her slowly, and Lydia let out a small whimper. I smiled against her neck, feeling amazed and . . . satisfied. The most satisfied I'd ever felt in my entire life. This . . . this was what I'd wanted all along. Her. Always her. I rolled off Lydia, pulling her with me, holding on. We were both breathing heavily, Lydia's face pressed to my chest. I suddenly realized there was wetness rolling down my skin and I startled, leaning up to look at her face. "Hey," I said, "what is it?" She tipped her head back and her gaze was watery, her lip trembling as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes widening as if she was as perplexed as I was by her tears. "I, I don't know why I'm crying. I just, I . . ." Her words were lost in a small sob, and she buried her face back against my chest. I pulled her tighter, offering her words of comfort. A pressure formed in my heart. Was she already regretful about what we'd done? Had she not wanted this?
"I don't regret what we did," she said as if reading my mind. "I wanted it. So much. It was incredible."
I turned so we were facing each other and used my index finger to tip her chin up, looking into her impossibly lovely face, drenched in emotion. I thought I understood, though. "You've been carrying a lot, Lydia. For a long time. You've had so much on your shoulders, and no one to help, no one who really understood." And what we'd just done had broken the dam. "Making love to you was intense for me too." I kissed the tip of her nose. "I feel it too, Mo Chroí."
"You do?" she squeaked.
I nodded, pulling her close. "Let it out, Lydia. Let it go. Let me hold you." Need me, Lydia.
She curled up in my arms. And she cried. I continued to utter quiet words to her, mostly in Gaelic, the language I associated with comfort and felt safe to use without considering my words. And so I let them flow freely from my lips.
"Hush, mó ghrá."
Hush, my love.
"Mo aingeal."
My angel.
"Mó shaol."
My life.
Once her sniffles and sobs quieted and her tears seemed to dry, I pulled back, looking down at her. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted slightly, her breathing slow and normal. She was asleep. "Mo Chroí," I whispered, smoothing her hair back before I slipped out from beneath her. She mumbled softly in her sleep and turned over, bringing her knees up. I watched her sleep for a moment before going to the bathroom where I flushed the condom. I stood at the sink for a few moments, holding on to the countertop as I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. I was grappling with so many emotions I hardly knew where to start sorting them out. I was blissfully happy to have made love to Lydia, but I was scared, too, not only of my own powerful feelings, but because of all the things that threatened to steal her from me just when I might have her back.
I let out a deep sigh, turning from the mirror and crossing my arms over my bare chest. I had created an impossible situation, and I was going to try to make it right, but there were so many reasons I might not be able to now. There were so many reasons I might lose Lydia again. I had survived it the first time, but I didn't think I'd survive it again.
I returned to bed where I climbed in and gathered Lydia to me, spooning her from behind. "Brogan," she muttered sleepily, scooting her butt back into my groin. Despite having just made love, my cock twitched against her arse with renewed interest. She let out a small snore and I kissed her shoulder, smiling against her skin.