“Cale, please,” I moan, pulling at his clothes. I don’t want him to waste any time. I need to feel the weight of his body on mine.
There’s a pile of fresh hay in the backstage area, and he spreads his jacket on it before laying me down. In a moment he’s stripped me naked and his mouth and fingers are everywhere.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he growls through gritted teeth, stroking a forefinger down my slit.
“I’ve been coming every chance I get thinking about you,” I confess, watching the movements of his thumb on my clit, my legs spread for him.
His fingers sink into me, and I cry out. I can take him deeply without pain this time and I revel in the feel of him pumping in and out of me. With shaking hands I undo his belt and the button on his jeans. I lose all sense of the world around me except for Cale. Like last time, he’s got me naked first and I can barely focus on the buttons of his clothes because of what he’s doing to me.
A moment later I have to lay back as the sensations overtake me, and I can do nothing but grip his shoulders and beseech him with my eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cale
“Fuck, you’re beautiful when you come.”
Ryah clenches rhythmically around my fingers and lets out a long, extravagant moan. A red flush paints her chest to the tips of her nipples. When she opens her eyes she smiles up at me shyly, her blue eyes sparkling as she pants.
“Don’t just look at me,” she teases. “Take off your clothes.”
She helps me undress until I’m naked and kneeling between her thighs. We should be using protection. We should have used protection the first time, but it was the last thing on my mind. I hesitate, palming her belly. She could be pregnant.
A wave of pleasure goes through me. Ryah could be pregnant right now with my baby. If she’s not, she might be after tonight.
It’s the work of a second to sheath myself inside her, and this time her cries are of satisfaction and pleasure. Then our mouths come together as I start to pound into her. Skin on skin. Nothing between us.
Utterly perfect.
Thoughts of Ryah pregnant, her belly swollen with my child, make me feel wild. I pound into her quickly, reveling in the tight feel of her pussy. I pull out and go down between her thighs to lick her, desperate to feel her climax again. When she does I start it all over again, riding her hard and deep until I’m ready to burst inside her, and then pull out. I deny myself again and again, wanting to make it last forever, until I’m so feverish I tip over the edge, biting down on her shoulder as I climax.
My heart is pounding and I’m covered in sweat when I finally withdraw. I smile down at her, touching the backs of my fingers to her cheek. “No tears.”
“No tears,” she whispers back.
I wrap my body around Ryah’s, holding her close. In this blissful state, we drift together.
I wake sometime later, and I feel like several hours must have passed. I shake Ryah awake and she murmurs sleepily and burrows into my arms again.
“We have to go back to our bed,” I whisper into her hair, kissing her temple. Slowly, we pull our clothes back on, and I walk her back to her wagon. All the stars are twinkling in the sky, and before she goes up the steps I kiss her one last time. My twinkling star. My sparkle.
My parents have never said it, but I know they think I’ve been hiding away from the world, from love, all these years in the circus.
But I wasn’t running. I was waiting for her.
Ryah breaks the kiss and gives me a smile that would make an angel weep and disappears into her wagon.
The days lengthen and the sun beats down. The spring days are unusually clear and sunny, and everyone’s mood is just as bright. Daffodils bob beneath trees, which are bursting into blossom and buds of leaves. We wend our way south via laneways lined with vivid green new growth. The horses browse the fresh grass and are as lively as new foals.
And I’m happy. I’m glowing with happiness, and so is Ryah. I can see it in the way she moves and how she talks to the others. In the way she looks at me. My heart aches with the love I feel for her, that I knew would flow forth at an unstoppable rate the moment I gave into it. Whenever I find a private moment with her I kiss her over and over.
She smiles shyly up at me, emboldening me further. Soon I’m whispering against her throat as I kiss her that she’s my girl. Mine. It makes me drunk on love to say it out loud finally. Ryah is mine. She clings to me tightly, whispering that she doesn’t want to let me go, and I nuzzle her hair and smile indulgently, reveling in the feel of her arms tight around me. We’ll tell the others soon and then we needn’t hide in dark corners and sneak around at night, but for now, I’m possessive of what Ryah and I share, and want to share it with no one.
On a day we’re not performing, I ask Ryah to ride with me into to woods. We make our way along a bridle path until we reach a field with a stile, secure the horses and clamber over. An oak tree spreads its branches and deep green leaves overhead.
I have a backpack with me, and I kiss Ryah’s nose and whisper, “Close your eyes.”
She does as she told, her fingers running along a oak branch as I unpack what I’ve brought.