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Cullen swore he was the luckiest man in all of Thedas.
His backpack dropped to the floor with a thud, forgotten the instant he'd entered the bedroom. Amallia lay atop the bed, black lingerie glittering in the candlelight. Nylon-covered toes gave way to feet and ankles, muscled calves leading his eyes up to full thighs. Straps of her garter belt held the stockings in place, and a sheer lace thong left little to his imagination.
The smooth lines of her abs rippled beneath his apoplectic gaze, and when his eyes came to rest on the delicate lace of her bra, the familiar urge to have her, take her, devoured what yet remained of his control.
Cullen covered the distance between himself and the bed in three long strides, kneeling on the end at Amallia's feet. The tips of his fingers brushed the inside of her calf, ghosting up to her knee as he crawled over her. When his hand reached the exposed flesh of her inner thigh, she shivered with a soft whimper and her knees pinned together.
Trapped, he glared at her, blazing blue eyes reflective pools of lust. Rising up, he slipped the other hand between her thighs and pried them apart. She resisted, if only a little, but enough that he used a hint of strength to get what he wanted. Which was, in turn, exactly what she wanted as well. The thrill she experienced when he took her, when she submitted to his will, rivaled his own. And taking control during their love-making, while hesitant at first, had elicited a surprising response in him. Whenever Amallia wanted him that way, he rarely balked.
Maker, was she ever asking for it now.
And what kind of man, what kind of husband would he be to deny her?
Once her legs parted, Cullen gripped her by the hips and pulled hard, rough fingers biting into her flesh. Though she gasped in surprise, her grin gave her away, prepared for his less than kind treatment. Beneath the lace of her thong he slipped his fingers, gripping tight to wrenched the fabric away, tearing the thin straps at her hips.
Amallia cried out, though surprised or aroused – perhaps both – Cullen couldn’t tell. He discarded the ruined garment, tossing it over the edge of the bed. Her knees squeezed together at his hips, pleading with him to continue, to give her more.
His belt joined her underwear, stripped and tossed to the floor in a blur. Button undone, and then a slow zipper, teasing Amallia as she writhed in anticipation. He pulled the hem of shirt up, lifting to reveal his stomach, his chest, thumb rasping over a pert nipple.
Her tongue darted out to wet parched lips, panting breaths heaving her breasts. Her eyes followed his other hand as it dipped into his briefs, calloused fingers finding his hard length and withdrawing it. By the base he held it erect, teasing her further as he stroked to the tip and back.
“Get up.”
She obeyed, sitting up in a rush to please him. Her lips were inches from swollen crown of his cock and Cullen resisted the urge to grasp her by the back of her head and thrust into her throat. He stripped himself of his shirt, throwing it to the side, then returned a hand to his erection, the other cupping her chin. A thumb brushed over her bottom lip, dipping into her mouth as her tongue gave it a greedy lick.
“On your knees,” he ordered and she complied. His hand fell from her face as she rose up to her knees, lips brushing his. Unable to restrain himself, a hand pressed to the small of her back, pinning her to his chest, and he claimed her lips with his. In contrast to his words, his kiss was soft, tender, loving, and he moaned into her as she shuddered in his embrace.
When he felt her hands on his chest, he pulled back from her, breaking the kiss much to her dislike. A frustrated sigh burst from her lips, but she smiled again. His own grin hooked the corner of his lips as his arousal swelled further at the sight of her excitement, at the thought of what he was about to do to her.
“Turn around.”
Trim waist flared to the firm and supple muscles of her backside, and he grasped her in his free hand. Over her shoulder, Amallia looked to him as she taunted, “Are you just going to grope me all night?”
A growl bubbled up in his throat, rumbling deep in his chest as he gripped the back of her neck and shoved her down, bending her over as he pressed her to the mattress. Amallia cried out once more, and Cullen knew she had been unprepared for that. But her back arched, presenting her heat to him, glistening with arousal in the orange glow of the candles.
Sopping already. Maker, be still my beating heart.
As his heart galloped, his breath quickened and the room spun with the heady rush of lust. With one hand grasping her ass, the other angled the swollen head of his cock to her heat, and Amallia moaned in relief.
“Be quiet.”
He watched as she buried her face into the mattress in a poor attempt to silence her pleasure. He knew she would only grow louder, unable to contain it as Cullen rolled his hip. The length of his cock slipped over her slick folds, spreading her cheeks further, then receded. He repeated the motion, stroking himself against her arousal, and soon his length was coated in her nectar. And Amallia, try as she might, was moaning and keening and sighing to her heart’s content.
The flat of his hand met the sensitive skin of her ass with a resounding slap and her entire body jerked away in surprise as she screamed. He grasped her roughly by the hips and tugged her back to him, cock sliding between her cheeks once more, Amallia’s entire body shuddering with arousal. When she managed to settle her excitement, Cullen spoke, leaning over to whisper in her ear.
“I told you to be quiet.”
She nodded as best as she could, hair covering her face as she gripped the sheets. Satisfied, Cullen rose from her, grasping the base of his erection and angling it into her heat once more. Her thighs flexed as he teased with just enough pressure to penetrate, slipping between her pink folds. Inch by inch, he spread her, filling her until her ass met his pelvis, pulled by his hands at her hips.
He heard a soft whimper, muffled by the sheets gathered around her head. Slowly, he withdrew from her, a long stroke until only the tip remained inside. Then, with a quick snap of his hips, Cullen thrust his cock deep into her cunt, and Amallia screamed.
Her own hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her voice with an abrupt clip. Heavy breaths sucked through her nose and Cullen watched, relishing in her struggle to remain quiet as he had directed. He gave her too little time, that he knew, for when he thrust into her again, repeating the motion and picking up speed, her moans returned in full.
The scent of her arousal filled his nostrils, wafting to his nose with each slap of their bodies. He pounded into her, thrusting harder and faster with each passing minute until Amallia had grown too loud again. He paused a moment, leaning over her to wrap one arm beneath her hips and the other under her arm and across her chest to grasp her throat.
He lifted her, rising up and keeping her back to his chest. In his arms he carried her to the head of the bed, pinning her against the wall. Her free hand found her mouth once more in an effort to keep quiet as Cullen grabbed her other arm at the bicep, wrenching it back to restrain her further. When her cries quieted again, he leaned in close, lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
“Last warning.”
She nodded again, her hand falling away from her parted lips. Ragged breaths pulled from her chest, partly restricted by his grip at her throat. She braced herself against the wall, forearm pressing and fingers splayed. He took her deep, clarifying breath as his cue, withdrawing from her again in a languid stroke.
Thrusting up into her, their bodies met in a lascivious slap, and Cullen watched as Amallia gritted her teeth, sucking in a breath. She exhaled a groan, near to snarling in her struggle to restrain her volume.
As he picked up speed, her valiant attempt to remain quiet failed, moans quickly rising in volume as he thrust into her. Maker, but her voice was exquisite, the pleasure she felt sung to the heavens as she cried out his name. Faster, she moaned, harder, fuck me, Cullen! Yes! Fuck my wet pussy with your thick cock!
The walls of her sex twitched, the pitch of her moans crept skyward, and her breath caught in her throat. Flexing around his throbbing shaft, Cullen knew Amallia was near to unraveling, and he wasn’t far behind. At that precarious edge they lingered, Amallia grunting in frustration as he slowed. Withdrawing to the tip again, Cullen waited for her to control her voice, and when she did, he gave her the release she so desperately needed.
His hand at her throat slid to her jaw, turning her head, and he jerked her back to his chest by her arm in the other. Then, with a rough thrust of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt, and Amallia’s scream lasted but a second. His lips crushed hers, silencing her, swallowing the sounds of her orgasm. She writhed against him, struggled, and the walls of her heat flexed over and over again, stroking his length to climax.
Lips still sealed around hers, Cullen moaned his orgasm into her. Spurts of his seed filled her with every throb of his cock, and his entire body quivered with release. Lingering twitches left him drained and he parted from her, gasping for breath. When Amallia slumped in his arms, clearly exhausted, he laid her down gently and followed, head resting on her chest and curling into her, legs entwined as she embraced him.
They lay there in a silence broken only by the sound of their deep breaths pulled into craving lungs. Fingers carded through his waves gone astray, combing them back into place with a sensuous touch. The minutes ticked by, time forgotten, as Cullen remained in each moment, listening to the slowing beat of Amallia’s heart.
When he lifted his head to ask her a question, he found her fast asleep, breath shallow and short. A stray lock of her hair laid crossed her nose, and with a careful hand, he brushed it aside, cupping her cheek. Though asleep, she turned into his touch, and Cullen marveled at the wonder that was their love, unable to fathom anything greater.
The luckiest man, indeed.