Chapter 59: Last passion?

*Julia*

How can I say goodbye to this? How can I say farewell to him?

I find myself praying that the sun will never again rise, that the passage of time will cease, that Nick and I can remain forever cocooned around each other. Selfish thoughts, but then where he is concerned, I seem to be filled with selfish needs. It’s one of the reasons I thought I could live a lie, that I hadn’t considered all the ramifications, all the people affected.

I know I will never again experience such uninhibited passion, be possessed by such rampant yearnings, be obsessed with one man. Something deep within him calls to a place within me that has been uncharted, undiscovered. I could have lived my entire life without being aware of it, and I would have been content, happy. But now that it has been revealed, how can I ever forget that it exists? How can I ignore it?

Oh, I will miss him.

The way his heated mouth leaves a trail of dew over my skin, along my throat, across the swells of my breasts. The manner in which his mouth closes over my nipple and suckles gently while his hands continue to explore, his fingers tease. His thigh provides the right amount of pressure between my legs, causing me to writhe against him.

His groans delight my ears; his tangy scent fills my nostrils. His skin is salty against my tongue. I strive to hoard every sensation even as I become lost in them. How is it that I can be so aware and yet so disoriented? I am ascending and falling at the same time. Every time we come together, it’s the same and yet different.

I push on his shoulders until he falls onto his back. Straddling his hips, I glide my hands up his arms until I reach his wrists, then I shackle my fingers around them. I guide them above his head, pressing them into the pillow. “Don’t move them,” I order.

“What are you going to do?”

I give him my sauciest grin. “Have my way with you.”

“Dear Goddess, Julia.”

My mouth captures his lips, his name, his breath. I am the one who has determined we need to end the farce. He capitulates because of his love for me. I know that. I also know that he has the power to change my mind; I know that he knows as well. Yet he has surrendered, accepted defeat because my happiness is more important to him than his own.

I want people to know that he puts others before himself. He isn’t a scapegrace; he doesn’t take advantage. I want people talking about Nick with the respect he deserves. It isn’t right to live one’s life in another’s shadow.

I skim my mouth along his bristly chin. I love this time of night, when his face is roughened with whiskers, when he appears slightly uncivilized, a little barbaric. So very, very masculine.

He groans low, and I feel his chest vibrating where my knees rest against his ribs. I love how tortured he sounds. I place my lips against his ear. “I’m going to take you in my mouth.”

His hips rear up. “Dear Goddess.”

“Do you want that?” I ask in a silken throaty voice.

“Yes.”

Lifting up, I meet his gaze. “What do you want?”

“For you to take me in your mouth.”

“Then keep your hands where they are.”

Above his head, he interlocks his fingers so tightly I can see the knuckles turning white.

“I want you to remember this night,” I whisper.

“I will remember every moment I ever spent with you.”

I kiss him thoroughly, controlling the depth and tempo of our movements. I feel powerful, strong. Equal. I can drive him as mad as he drives me. I nibble on his chin, his neck, his collarbone. I watch as the muscles in his arms bunch and flex as he struggles not to reach for me.

I slide my body down his. He moans. I flick my tongue over his hardened nipple. He growls.

Ah, yes, I can taunt and tease to my heart’s content. His other nipple receives my attention. His breaths become labored, his stomach tautens. I kiss a path along his ribs, down his flat abdomen, which quivers beneath my lips. The tension radiating through him is palpable.

I take my mouth over his hip, across the scar, along an outer thigh to his knee, up the soft inner thigh, up, up until I reach my destination and close my lips around him. His snarl is that of a man tormented as he holds me captive between his legs, squeezing me tightly as his soles caress me.

Lifting my gaze to his, I take immense satisfaction in the heat burning brightly in his eyes.

“You are a witch.”

Smiling, I return my attention to revealing just how much of a witch I can be. He swears harshly as I take my sweet time driving him mad. Licking the long length of him, tasting, suckling. If this is to be farewell, I want to brand every inch of me over every inch of him.

In the morning, he will leave my bed for the final time. I don’t know where I will find the strength to let him go, but I will somehow. Tonight will become a demarcation in my life, the point where my life parts. On one side is my life with him, on the other side my life without him. One is marked with laughter and love. The other with loneliness.

He will marry, and I will find a way to survive it, to live with the knowledge that another lives my dream of warming his bed and bearing his children. Part of me thinks it might have been easier to have never known what life with him could be, yet how can I regret a single moment when they will provide sustenance for the coming years?

Suddenly, his strong fingers are in my hair, massaging my scalp. “I can’t go any longer without touching you.”

He shifts until he is nearly sitting, pulls me up until his mouth is nipping at mine. As he falls back down, I realize I am once again straddling him. Lifting my hips, he guides me until he is buried deeply inside me. I nearly weep at how wonderful it feels to be filled by him.

As I rock against him, he kneads my breasts, the sensations rolling through me like waves upon the shore. Crashing and retreating. Powerful, then calm. I brace my hands on either side of his wide shoulders, my hair draped around us, creating a further intimacy, blocking out the world. If only we could block it out forever.

He cradles my hips, providing the support I need as his thrusts come more quickly, more powerfully. He raises his head, his mouth latching onto my breast, driving me mad as he tugs, as pleasure spirals until I am crying out his name.

He lifts me up, sets himself free, pressing me close against his chest until I am splayed over him, as his body bucks beneath me and he growls my name. He trembles as I quiver, as the remnants of passion have their way with us. Our breathing finally calms, our bodies still.

“Why did you do that?” I ask. “Why did you leave me?”

“I can’t risk getting you with child now.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. It is an aspect of coupling that I have never before had to be concerned over. “Does it make it less pleasurable?”

He kisses the top of my head. “No.”

Gnawing on my lower lip, I suspect he’s lied. “Does it make it less satisfying?”

“If you’re asking if I would rather be inside you, of course I would. But we do what we must.”

I raise my head to look at him. “Are there other ways to ensure that I don’t get with child?”

“There is no way to ensure it. What I did lessens the chances, but there are no guarantees.”

Sighing, I settle my head back on his chest, listening to his heart thundering. “I’m going to miss being with you.”

“No more than I shall miss you.”

“Perhaps we ill spend our winter years together, in secret.” When I am too old to have children.

His arms band more tightly around me. “I shall look forward to growing old.”

The tears form, and I let them fall, because this man deserves so much more than I can give him.