Chapter 12: Stonewater Tower

He carried me up the tower stair in his arms, and I didn't tell him to put me down.

The room at the top was round, with a bed against the curved wall and a window open to the river.

Wind moved the curtains, and the candle on the sill leaned and steadied.

He set me on my feet beside the bed.

"You're mine now," he said. His voice was rough.

"I already know it."

"Then tell me what you want."

"Your mouth," I said. "Everywhere. Slowly."

His eyes went black.

He kissed me again, and this time there was nothing careful in it.

His hands went to the ties of my dressing gown and drew them open, and the cool air touched my skin.

He stopped.

He looked at me, at the swell of my stomach and the weight of my breasts.

The hunger in his face was so plain that my knees went weak.

"You're beautiful," he said, plainly.

"I'm pregnant and I'm tired and I haven't washed my hair."

"You're beautiful."

He dropped to his knees on the stone.

He put his mouth against my belly, very gently, where the baby had kicked all night.

Then he looked up at me.

"I'll be careful," he said.

"Don't be careful with me. Be careful with her."

"Both."

He laid me back across the bed with a pillow under my hips, and I felt the cool sheet against my spine.

He kissed me from my collarbone to my navel, taking his time, and where his mouth went, my skin woke up.

His tongue traced the curve of my hip, and he put his hands beneath my thighs, drew them apart, and settled his mouth on my wet pussy.

I heard myself make a noise I had never made before.

"There," he murmured. "Again."

His tongue circled my clit, warm and slow and relentless.

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