Slavemaster's Woman, The (40 page)

Cushla moaned and nodded, her arms and legs
tensing and clutching him more tightly.

He thrust into her and froze, his body
shuddering as shockwaves shot through him, rippling along his
flesh. Cushla fit him so well as her channel clenched around his
shaft and his passion for her became unrestrained. His strokes were
long and lingering at first as he moved in and out of her.

His tempo hastened.

Cushla met his every stroke.

They clung to each other, their movements
becoming wild but rhythmic, both of them groaning and panting
heavily, climbing, flying, reaching for the apex.

Cushla arched her body and screamed.

Tarken growled and slammed into her while
their breaths caught, their hearts thumping powerfully. Their
bodies locked together, convulsing. They lifted—floated as a
rapturous explosion shattered through them as one.

They crashed into the bed, both gasping for
air, still clinging to each other fiercely, until their breathing
finally slowed and their muscles began to relax. They were still
for some time, caressing and kissing and cradling each other,
taking time to gaze into each other’s eyes, cherishing the
moment.

“My slavemaster,” Cushla sighed. She closed
her eyes and smiled.

“I am no longer your slavemaster, my
beautiful woman.” Tarken kissed her forehead. “Or anyone’s for that
matter.”

“Then, who are you?” Cushla murmured. She
moaned a sound of satisfaction as she nestled further into his
arms.

Pulling back slightly, Tarken gazed at
her.

She was truly goddess-like in appearance,
her pallid, silky skin emitting a radiant glow in the aftermath of
their lovemaking.

He smiled warmly. “I am just yours, Cushla,
plain and simply yours.”

“Are you?” she whispered.

Tarken nodded slowly. “From the moment I
laid my eyes upon you, now and for always. You possess me. You hold
my power. You are my woman, my Cushla. You are the beat of my
heart.”

The End