She Wanted This

by Lara Wilson

"Remember, you wanted this."

His murmured words are almost harshly spoken, and she shivers in response, then moans, a sound drawn out and quivering, as he enters her.

He is behind her, both of them on their sides, and one of his hands holds her thigh up and over his, opening her for him. She can't see him, but she can feel him, pushing deeper into her tight body.

She is prepared--wet and hot--but still unprepared when he reaches the barrier inside her and pushes through it. A sharp cry breaks from her, then is cut off by her teeth in her lower lip, as she gasps and shudders.

His hand tightens and she can feel him pressed against her back through the thin shift rucked up over her hips.

She can feel him inside her, a hard shaft both hurting and pleasuring her.

She tries to move.


He holds her still, his other arm beneath her shoulder, curving up to cup and fondle a breast.

She squirms.


As he withdraws, her eyes widen. The pain remains, but he is so large and she is so tight and she feels every bit of him. When he thrusts forward again, she gasps and digs her fingers into the bedding beneath her. Her other hand joins his on her hip, trying to pull them both between her legs.

"Wait," he hisses in her ear, and thrusts again, harder this time.

The pleasure tightens in her stomach. She knows that if he will only touch that hard, aching spot at the crest of her mound, pleasure will break over her in waves. Her own fingers have accomplished that much in the past year.

But his fingers tighten on her hip, and he refuses to move them.

His hips pump faster.

The pain is nearly gone and everything between her legs throbs with need. She squirms, wriggles back against him, arches into him. Her toes point, her calf muscles tighten. Her nipples are pebbled and aching. Harsh panting breaks from her lips and perspiration films her body.

"Please, oh please, sire," she begs helplessly. The heat between her legs is growing unbearable. She needs to be touched there. Needs to climax.

His teeth find her earlobe and she cries out, her whole body shaking, but not from release. "My name, give me my name."

"Uther, Uther, Uther," she chants helplessly, thrusting back against him as he thrusts forward, their bodies slapping together almost painfully.

With a loud grunt, he shudders against her and she feels the wetness from him. His hot breath is against her damp shoulder, harsh and shallow, and his hands remain tight on her as he pushes into her once more, then she feels him slide out.

Wetness spills over her thigh and she whimpers.

"Is this what you wanted, Morgana?" There is a tiredness in his voice that does not come from their lovemaking.

"Yes," she whispers, tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

When he turns her onto her back, she covers her eyes with her arm, unable to look at him, to see the emotions--or the lack of them--on his face. She doesn't want to know what he is feeling.

His fingers between her legs are gentle as he manipulates her aching clitoris until she spasms and bucks against his hand.

She falls silent except for small gasps.

He rises silently and leaves her bed.


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