For Ever And Ever
He was leaning slightly against the car, like a carefree Adonis -- all straight lines and defined planes -- with shoulders thrown back and face tilted up to receive the rays of the golden sun. Elizabeth caught her breath at the sight and marveled once again at how beautiful he really was. Although cars roared along the boulevard and the street was filled with people going home after the work day, at that instant, he looked like he was alone in the city and the city belonged to him. He looked tranquil… and free. She thought about how he took care of her and of everyone else around him, about the burdens he did not share with anyone and the responsibilities he did not shrink from, and paused behind the tinted glass doors of the sky scraper to allow him a few more moments of undisturbed peace, of freedom, and of the wind and the blue sky and the caressing sun.
When she finally stepped outside, his eyes were immediately drawn to her and she could barely stop herself from running into the cradle of his embrace.
“I thought you weren't going to be back until next week.” she whispered, pressing her face into his shoulder and inhaling the familiar scent.
“We closed the deal and I got on the first plane back here.” He stroked her back gently. “Come on, let's go home, I'm dead tired from the flight, but I couldn't wait to see you.”
His hands rested on the steering wheel, relaxed and confident, and she could see the muscles of his thigh shift when he pressed the acceleration pedal, controlling the powerful machine. The highway stretched in front of them, illuminated by the afternoon light like a gleaming canvas. She found herself breathing in time with the shift of gears, feeling the engine vibrating underneath and through her. To Elizabeth, driving had always been utilitarian -- a method for getting from point A to point B -- but his pure enjoyment of purpose and speed, his long fingers gripping the gear shift, man and machine joyriding as one, was so unconsciously pornographic that she shivered at the assault on her senses. She thought that if he had lived two hundred years ago, he would have ridden a large thoroughbred Arabian in the same way, moving together in a fluid union over the sun-drenched fields. The unexpected image made her inhale sharply.
He looked at her then, brows slightly creased. “Are you okay, Elizabeth? Is it too cold in here?”
“No, no, I'm fine. I was just… thinking.”
He put a warm hand on her thigh, causing an intake of breath. The corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Thinking? What about?”
Elizabeth swallowed and looked at her hands, suddenly shy. “I… well… I missed you while you were gone, that's all.”
“I missed you too.” He said, his voice low and even. His hand moved caressingly along the inside of her leg, under her skirt, stroking the sensitive skin and sending goose bumps up to her arms. “Every night, I came back to the hotel room, and it was cold and lonely and impersonal, and I wished -- I knew it to be impossible because you were continents away -- I dreamt that you were with me, that I was holding you and sharing my day with you, and you were soft and warm in my arms.” His eyes were on the road once more but his hand continued making its maddeningly slow progress, and she swallowed, trying to steady her jagged breath. He spoke again. “Tell me, Elizabeth, what did you dream about while I was gone?”
“Fitzwilliam…” she protested weakly, “We're in the car!”
He smiled, slowly, lazily. “The windows are very tinted, Elizabeth. No one can see inside. Tell me.” His hand caressed her skin with gentle circles, coming closer and closer, but not touching where she most wanted him to touch.
Her voice came in soft sighs. “I… I just missed being with you… I missed talking to you…”
“Did you miss me touching you?”
She made one last attempt at propriety, but the command in his tone stopped her. He asked again. “Did you?”
“Yes.” she exhaled. He touched her then, touched her as if she belonged to him -- which of course she did -- and she stopped thinking and surrendered to the familiar bursts of pleasure brought on by his warm hands against the most intimate part of her body. Her eyes closed and her head fell back against the headrest while he continued to stroke and probe, all the while pushing the car just as surely as he had done before, and Elizabeth felt his hands and four hundred horses thundering relentlessly through her. She raised her hips and opened her thighs to allow him greater contact until she could control herself no longer and the world burst around her and left her crying out his name. As things were coming back into focus, she felt a soft caress on her hair. “My Elizabeth…” he whispered, notes of reverence in his voice.
He kissed her immediately after they walked into the house. The lips that smiled softly before were now pressing into hers with bruising intensity, his tongue probing inside her mouth, tasting her greedily, making her yearn for him as much as he yearned for her. Her clothes were gently but insistently removed and she could feel the heat of his body through his fine cotton dress shirt, the buttons scraping against her naked flesh. Elizabeth's head was spinning from the contact and she longed to feel his skin against hers, fumbling with his clothes until they too fell away and she could press herself into him with no further barriers.
Without breaking the kiss, he picked her up and walked to the bedroom, placing her carefully onto the smooth, cool sheets and lowering himself next to her. His kisses became more leisurely, the earlier urgency replaced by a slow and careful exploration of her body. She wanted to touch him everywhere at once -- from his broad chest to the smooth plane of his abdomen -- running her hands through his hair, over his shoulders, around his muscular back. He seemed to want the same, shifting to allow her easier access, burying his face in her neck and sighing her name. He moved above her, caressing her arms, kissing her breasts and finally taking each of her hardened nipples into his mouth. She grasped him and stroked upwards along his length, reveling in his groan and the intense pleasure he derived from her touch. Rubbing circles over her breasts, he kissed her stomach and thighs -- light touches of his lips that inflamed her. She gasped when his hand touched her core and sensations shot through a million different nerves in her body.
“I want to taste you.” He whispered urgently and felt her tense.
“But… I… Fitzwilliam…”
“Shh… Elizabeth… just let me, trust me.”
She was still tense, but when he slipped a finger into her warm depths and moved in and out with a steady rhythm, she let go of her inhibitions, knowing that he would never hurt her, and surrendered to their lovemaking. He hovered above her for a moment and then she felt his tongue where his hand used to be, hot, insistent, circling and probing, his finger still moving with that maddening cadence. Her breath came in uneven bursts and her heart thundered in her chest as she grasped his hair, hearing her own moans of pleasure. Just at the moment when she thought her heart would burst, he pulled his mouth away and entered her with one sure stroke, thrusting his whole length inside of her, kissing her mouth with an abandon that left her breathless. She wanted to wait, wanted to take it slowly, but he was filling her so completely that the next thrust had her shuddering with release.
“I'm sorry…” she whispered, when she could next speak.
“For what, darlin'?” He sounded genuinely surprised.
“I wanted to wait for you.”
He laughed, a low and husky sound. “Believe me, there is no greater reward for a man than what just happened.”
“But you didn't… I mean… you're still… you don't mind?”
“I like watching you take your pleasure. I like giving it to you.” he said simply, and she saw with wonder that he seemed as much affected as she was.
The second time he entered her was with a deliberate lack of haste. “I want to make this last.” he told her. Moving within her slowly, he held her, his arm supporting her shoulders, brushing his lips tenderly against her eyelids, cheeks and forehead. Time lost meaning as their bodies melded together, unhurriedly at first, then with more intensity, his hardness to her softness, moving and breathing as one.
Even if she had wanted to, Elizabeth could not have found words for the sensations he was arousing in her -- it was more than desire, more than passion, more than sex -- they were the only two people in the world and they existed only for each other. This was what they were created for -- to give and receive, to fill and fulfill -- in this ancient joining of their souls.
Afterwards, though her body relaxed against his, Elizabeth's mind was whirling. The velvet drapes were drawn and it was dark in the room, yet, she saw everything with a dreamlike clarity, the kind of focus that seems to slow time and every heartbeat echoes between one's temples. The simultaneous fragility and strength of their bond frightened her while electrifying every nerve in her body. Before him, she had never felt so completely part of another person, her fate and love and life so bound with his that she knew not where one ended and another began. She felt almost primitive -- the mother goddess, the virgin queen, Eve and Aphrodite -- she was all of them and still none but herself. “I love you, Fitzwilliam.” she whispered, needing to release the tightness in her throat and the burning intensity in her chest.
His arm tightened around her waist and he murmured quietly, with unbearable understanding, against her hair: “I love you too, Elizabeth. Never doubt that. You are the most important thing in my life.”
Elizabeth knew, then, that she wanted to remember this moment - the darkness, his words, the solidity of his body, the warmth of his breath against her cheek - for ever and ever.