She made a soft sound of distress, then a low keening noise. Nicolas felt his heart shatter when she sobbed in her sleep. Her fists clenched and her body trembled, and the sounds were wrenched from her as if she couldn’t contain the overwhelming grief one more moment.
“Baby, don’t do this.” He whispered the words. Why had he thought if she cried she’d feel better? It was too much, too much sorrow for her. He pulled her beneath him, lying over her, somehow trying with his body to protect her from the grief.
She came awake, her eyes wide, black. Swimming with tears. “Nicolas? What is it?” She touched his face, the lines of worry there.
“You’re crying, honey. I thought it would be good for you to cry, but not like this, not in your sleep where I can’t share it with you.”
“I can’t be crying.” Dahlia wiped at the tears on her face with a kind of horror. “I never cry.”
“You are crying.”
“I can’t stop.” She looked desperate. “Make me stop, Nicolas. Make it stop.”
Nicolas found her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, taking the cries from her throat and swallowing them, making them his own. He took her breath into his body and swept his tongue over her tears, tasting them. Keeping them. He deepened the kiss, urgency mingling with tenderness, taking her away from a place he couldn’t follow her to, bringing her back into his world. Their world.
The silk of her pajamas rubbed over his skin, her skin, feeding the growing need rising in a slow smoldering heat between them. He ran his hands over her body, cupping her breasts, feeling the tuck of her waist through the thin layer of silk, shaping every curve even as his mouth stayed welded, kiss for kiss, to hers. “It’s all right, kiciciyapi mitawa,” he whispered. “Everything will be all right.” He kissed her eyes, his tongue capturing more tears before they could fall, going back again and again to her soft lips. “You’re with me. You’ll always have me.”
He kissed her with long drugging kisses, making her almost senseless, unable to think anymore, taking every sorrow and replacing it with erotic pleasure. All the while his hands stroked and explored, slowly pushed the silken pajamas aside until he had bare skin. Until she lay beneath him completely naked, her eyes wild for him, pleading with him, and her hips rising to try to meet his.
Nicolas shook his head, his expression tender. “Not this time. I want you to know I love you, Dahlia. I want you to feel it. I’m going to make love to you, a long slow assault on your senses. I want you to know you’re mine, that you really belong with me.” He bent his head to her throat, lapped at the valley between her breasts. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmured the words against her breasts, took her nipple into her mouth, heard her soft cry and took his time, paying attention to both breasts and her narrow rib cage before taking a small foray across her stomach to her belly button.
“Nicolas,” Dahlia caught two fistfuls of hair. “I can’t stand it. I want you.”
“Yes you can. You can stand me loving you.” He traced the path lower, spreading her thighs with gentle hands and dipping his head to taste her.
Dahlia’s hips lifted for him, giving him the opportunity to cup her bottom and bring her to him. He took his time, enjoying her frantic little cries, a stark contrast to her earlier sobs. She tried to pull him over her, to wrap her legs around him, which only opened her more to his exploration. She came with a wild bucking of her hips. He entered her, felt the continuing ripples as her muscles gripped him tightly and spiraled out of control. He moved then, long deep strokes, robbing her of breath until her eyes began to glaze and he felt her nails dig into his back, and he laughed softly with satisfaction as she came again.
Breathless, Dahlia could only lie beneath him as Nicolas began to ride her in earnest, his body surging with strength into hers, bringing her to another fever pitch when she thought it impossible. She clung to him, watching his face, the stern, almost harsh angles and planes that were so beautiful to her. She could see his pleasure growing with each thrust of his hips. His hands bit into her hips and dragged her to him with each stroke so that they came together hard, so that the pleasure was so much it bordered on pain. She could feel him moving in her, deep in her tight folds, her heat surrounding him, drawing him to her very core. The pressure built and built and the air sparkled and sizzled and the flames flickered everywhere, and deep inside when the volcano thundered and spread fire through her body, through his, she felt utter contentment and total peace.