InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Impetuous ( Chapter 80 )

Jessa awoke with a smile on her face and a sense of well-being that was so deep, so encompassing, that she almost laughed out loud as she scooted closer to Ashur, savoring the warmth of his body, the evenness of his breathing.  Opening her eyes, her gaze falling on the ring that he'd given her the night before, she bit her lip, as though she were trying to contain the absolute sense of joy that welled up inside her.

He'd made it for her . . .

It was almost as though she could feel the sense of love, of caring, that had gone into the crafting of it, and she rolled to the side, just far enough to hold up her hand, to examine the flashing brilliance of the ring in the weak light that filtered into the room.

It looked like a flame—a frozen flame—and the way that the light played off of it gave it life, movement.  She didn't know how he'd managed to create it, but it was absolutely stunning.

'It's beautiful,' her youkai-voice remarked.  'We ought to do something special for him, too.'

'Something special . . . like . . . what?'

'Well, it's not something you have to figure out right this moment.  Just . . . Just something that you could do for him—something that will make him feel as loved, as special, as he makes you feel . . .'

That was the problem, wasn't it?  She wasn't skilled enough with flame to do much of anything intricate like what he was able to accomplish with his mastery of the earth, and even if she were, it wasn't like she could do what he did.  In a way, it made her feel somewhat incompetent, even if that wasn't what he had set out to do.  She only wished that she could do something for him—something that would make him understand just how special she thought that he really was, not just for the ring, but for . . . for everything . . .

He really had gone out of his way from the very start for her, hadn't he?  Even when he didn't know anything about her . . .

Her ebullience waned just slightly as she leaned up on her elbow, gently pushing his golden-brown bangs out of his eyes, letting her fingertips trail lightly over the angles, the planes of his face.  She wasn't sure what had brought the two of them together—if it was fate or destiny—was there a difference between the two?  Whatever it was . . . It was all right, wasn't it?  To be with him—to know him maybe better than she knew herself—and to understand that the two of them belonged together . . . It was a humbling thing.

The insular memory of that day in the glen, surrounded by her father's torches as they had ignited, one by one . . . The brush of the moonflower petals as they ebbed and flowed, suspended on a warm breeze . . . The touch of invisible fingers that, for a fleeting breath, were entirely real . . .

Maybe it didn't matter, how they'd come together.  Maybe it was enough that she was here, that she was with him, and there was nowhere else she would rather be.

He looked so much younger when he was sleeping, didn't he?  Not that he usually looked that old, either.  If she likened him to a human, then he probably didn't appear any older than maybe twenty-seven or so, if that.  There was just something about him . . .

'Aside from the idea that the man is just absolutely stunning to look at?'

Okay, so there was that . . .

Unable to staunch the heat that rose to her infuse her cheeks with a blush that she could feel, Jessa bit her lip, forcing herself not to look away since that was her gut reaction.  They'd both fallen asleep last night, tangled around one another while the scent of their bodies lingered, thick in the air.  It was remarkable, wasn't it?  As many times as they'd been together, every single time felt so different, so wonderful, like an entirely new way of discovering each other.

They hadn't bothered to cover up, either, and she broke into a rather timid smile as she pushed herself upright, careful not to wake him, while she deliberately allowed herself to look at him, to let her gaze wander over him in an entirely lethargic kind of way.  She hadn't really taken the time to look at him like this before, mostly because it felt so . . . so wicked, so wanton that it was difficult to do so now.  After all, a lady wasn't supposed to be so forward.  Even so, it was all right, wasn't it?  She knew well enough that he enjoyed looking at her body, so why couldn't she allow herself to do the same?  He wouldn't mind, she knew that, and the heady feeling that this man was hers?

He wasn't large or over-muscled, wasn't at all intimidating in that kind of way.  Lanky, broad shouldered, yes, yet trim and well-defined without being overwhelming . . . Lying on his side, his head turned slightly toward her, his skin seemed to glow in the wan light, a gorgeous canvas, a study of light and shadow, and even in his relaxed state, she could see the definition of his abs, slowly flicking out her tongue against her dry lips as her gaze swept lower, lingering on the rise of his hip, the bone that protruded just below his flesh . . . Fingertips reaching out, lightly tracing the indentation where his hip met his torso, dragging through the tangle of curls, she bit her lip again, marveling at the play of muscles as they jerked under her touch.

And it seemed like the most natural thing in the word as she wrapped her fingers around the length of him.  The reaction of his body was immediate, drawing a soft giggle from her as he hardened, thickened, lengthened in her hand.

He was fascinating.  Everything about him . . . All she wanted to do was to touch him, to get to know his body in a way that always seemed to elude her when he was awake.  He was dynamic, overwhelming, making her forget herself, any time he gave her that look, when he touched her.  Even now, he held a power over her, an allure that was almost impossible to ignore.

Letting go of him, she scooted down, settling next to his hips, knees bent, feet buried beneath her pillows, and she grasped him once more.  Eyes flashing up almost guiltily as he moaned softly, she slid her hand up and down a few times, loving the feel of him, the contrast of the hardness of him, the silky softness of his skin . . .

And just touching him, reveling in the twitches, the reactions of his body to her was enough to ignite an inner burn, the dull ache that nearly wrenched a groan from her.  Shifting her feet, drawing one leg up closer, pushing the other one out straight, she squirmed just a little, trying to ignore the surge of molten desire that shot through her as she continued to stroke him.

She wanted to wake him up, to feel his arms around her, his body against hers, and yet, the idea that he was still asleep was far too heady, too blatant an invitation to ignore.  Letting her gaze roam back to the part of him that she was touching, she stared as the small bead of moisture appeared on the head of his cock, and he rolled in his sleep, lying flat on his back.  A quick glance reassured her that he hadn't opened his eyes, and she didn't give it a second thought as she lowered her mouth over him . . .

Clenching his jaw tight when Jessa's mouth sank down on him, Ashur managed to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape as he concentrated on remaining perfectly still.  She woke him up about the time that she'd grasped him in a firm, but steady grip, but he had yet to open his eyes, compelled to find out, exactly what she was doing.

It might have been a mistake.

Something about her almost childlike sense of curiosity shot through him, wrenching a low groan from him as he willed himself not to reach for her.  She drew him in as deeply as she could—she could feel his head hitting the soft and pliable flesh of her throat—and if she didn't stop soon, it was going to be over fast.

But even that wasn't quite enough to break the control he held so tightly.

And then, another scent hit him, and hit him hard.

Cracking his eyes open to verify what he thought he smelled, what he thought that he'd heard, he squeezed them closed again tightly for a long moment before forcing himself to look again as Jessa moaned quietly, her free hand kneading one of her breasts, slipping down her belly, disappearing between her legs.  Delicate fingers running up and down those folds of skin, gingerly at first, and, as her passion grew, with a little more daring, she uttered a roughened groan, the reverberations of it shooting straight through him as the tightening in his balls grew to near painful levels.

Sliding a couple fingers inside herself, she moaned again, her hands working in unison—one wrapped around him, one busy, pleasuring herself, as she bobbed her head up and down, the cascade of her glorious hair, shimmering in the light, as she took him in deeper and deeper as he balanced on the very cusp of violent pleasure, and still, he managed to keep himself still . . .

It was too much.  The heat of her mouth, the wetness of her saliva under her fingers, her palm, the scent of her body as she thrust her fingers into herself, over and over again . . . and all of it closed in on him with a brutality that he couldn't ignore.  With a grunt, a roughened growl, he came, filling her mouth, overflowing her lips despite her effort to swallow it all.  It dripped from her lips, down over her fingers, seeping between them in a fluid gush.

She released the suction of her mouth, running her tongue up and down the length of him, and he couldn't take it anymore.  Reaching out, grabbing her around the waist, he dragged her up and over, pulling her open, holding her still as his tongue flashed out, flickered against her as she reared up and back, as she cried out, rocking against his mouth, her body shaking, quivering, quaking as he shifted her, as he buried his tongue deep inside her, reveling in the taste of her on his lips . . .

Pitching forward, she grabbed him almost roughly, dropped her mouth over him again, her breaths stuttered and harsh.  He held nothing back as he thrust into her, uttering a rather savage growl when her teeth scraped over him, when her hands tightened almost brutally on his balls.  Something about the measured savagery unleashed a passion that bordered on frightening as he rolled them over, slamming into her mouth with a fearsome fervor that only served to heighten her own soaring reactions.  Slipping his fingers deep into her as his tongue sought out that swollen nub of flesh, he felt her body contract as the guttural groan shifted into a proprietary kind of sound that was almost more animalistic than it was articulated.  As if in answer to his silent challenge, she drew him deeper, her hands slipping around, squeezing his ass cheeks hard as she yanked him down as she rose up . . .

The orgasm that exploded from him was even more intense, more earthshaking than the first one had been, and somewhere in the midst of it, he felt her come undone . . .

Rolling over with her once more, he pushed her aside, only to catch her under the arms, pulling her up, burying his hands deep in the tangle of her hair as he yanked her down into a kiss—a wild and beautiful kiss, the taste of her, of him, mingling together, branding them both . . . She crawled on top of him, the heat of her beckoning him as he thrust into her in one fluid motion.  She gasped, shoving down with her body against him, her passion surging once more as he moved inside her, matching the cadence, the rhythm with his tongue against hers.  She leaned up, eyes blazing with unspent desire, lips swollen, darkened to a blood red hue, and she pushed herself upright, head dropping back, hair dragging against his thighs.  Reaching back, grasping his hips, breasts high and flushed, she rose on her knees, body arched back, only to let herself drop against him, time after time, harder and harder.  He could see the slight distension of her belly with every stroke, with every single one, as she cried out again and again, unable to discern where one orgasm ended and another began.

Ashur sat up, grabbed her to set her on her knees, moving in behind her as he spread her legs, as he ran his fingertips up and down her glistening, swollen pussy.  Splitting her wide open with his thumbs, he slammed into her, and she screamed, her body convulsing around him once more as he grasped her thighs, as he drove into her, hard and fast.  She braced her hands against the headboard, using her arms to propel her back to meet him halfway, her hair flying in a crazy dance as he felt the surging in his cock, in his balls—one crazy thought, one last stroke—and he drove her down hard against the mattress, collapsing on her as the flow of his orgasm connected with her, filling her with his child, with his heart . . .

Jessa giggled softly, leaning against the paddock fence, watching with a glowing smile as the magnificent gypsy cobs pranced around.  They were still growing used to the area, which was fine, but when Ashur had told her that he'd thought that maybe she might like to breed them, she'd thought for a moment that he was joking.  The only one it his particular paddock at the moment was the stallion.  The females were in another one, but the stallion could smell them, and he was showboating at the moment . . .

"You look happy," Carol remarked, leaning against the fence beside her.

"I am," Jessa said with a contented sigh.

Carol grabbed her hand and looked at her ring for what had to be the tenth time in the last hour.  "That is absolutely gorgeous," she said again.  "And Ashur made that?"

She nodded.  "You'll be my maid of honor, won't you?"

Carol laughed.  "I was starting to wonder if you were going to ask!" she teased.  "Took you long enough!"

"Is that a yes?"

Carol rolled her eyes, nudged her with her shoulder.  "Of course, it is," she replied.  "Do me a favor, and don't give Laith any ideas, okay?"

"You don't want to get married?"

She shrugged.  "Eventually.  It's just, you know . . . I want to feel like I've accomplished something on my own first . . ."

Jessa's smile dimmed slightly.  "But he told you, didn't he?  That mates . . .?"

"Oh, I know, and I . . . I believe him.  I just . . ." She sighed, as though she were trying to find the words that she wanted.  "I love him.  I love him more than anything, and we understand each other, you know?  But . . . But he's the master-of-stables here, and that's great, but I . . . I'm not where I want to be yet—at least, not professionally.  I'll get there.  I . . ."

"You want to be his equal before you marry him."

"Does that sound stupid?"

Jessa shook her head.  "I don't think so.  I mean, to our kind, the mating is more binding than marriage, anyway.  But you are going to let him mark you soon, aren't you?"

She let out a deep breath, propping her forehead on a raised fist.  "That sounds scary," she replied, making no bones about it.  "I know, it has to be done.  Laith's already said as much.  It's just a lot to think about."

"As long as you do get it done.  I like the idea of having you around for a very long time," Jessa said.

Carol laughed.  "Okay, okay . . . but about you . . .? Have you guys discussed when you're getting married?"

"Ashur just said whatever I want," she ventured, breaking into a slight smile when the stallion reared up high, kicking his front legs, looking absolutely stunning in the process.  "I don't want anything big or too fancy," she went on. "Just something small with . . . with the people who really matter."

"You don't want a big wedding, milady?" Carol teased.

Jessa sighed.  "To be honest?  No . . . I mean, I have a handful of people I'd want there—you and Nora and Dev and Myrna—and possibly her brother, though he is so busy so often that I rather doubt he'd be able to make it on short notice . . . I'm sure Ashur's list would be much longer, but . . . But how pathetic would that look?  Everyone would be on his side, and . . ."

Carol nodded, reaching out to smooth Jessa's hair back out of her face.  "You're right.  That would be pretty one-sided . . ."

Jessa grimaced.  "And . . . And Ma and Da . . ." she murmured.  "I know they wanted me to be happy, that they'd be pleased that I've found my mate . . . But when I used to think about my wedding, they were always there, and now . . ."

"If you tell Ashur all of this, I'm sure he'll understand," Carol insisted.  "Besides, he's a pretty un-fussy kind of guy, anyway."

Jessa nodded slowly.  "And . . . I'd like to do it as soon as possible," she went on.  "I just . . . I just want to be settled—with Ashur and Kells . . ."

Carol reached over to hug her.  "Absolutely!  Let me know if there's anything at all I can do to help you out.  After all, it's the maid of honor's job, right?"

Jessa giggled, kissing Carol's cheek.  "Right!"

"Have you guys gotten any more information on the Greenland case?"

Glancing up from the file he was looking over, Ashur frowned at Ben, then rolled his eyes when he spotted Puff-Puff, curled up on his brother's lap, sound asleep.  "Devlin found a few things.  He's handling that one primarily.  Said he talked to a couple people who remembered the incident, and they gave him a couple more names to look into."

Ben nodded thoughtfully.  "Nice.  He seems very intuitive.  He's a good choice for you to work with."

"He is," Ashur allowed.  "The only down side is that he isn't really trained in fighting, so I just worry when he goes out alone . . ."

"Could he learn?"

Slowly shaking his head, Ashur's frown deepened.  "I don't know.  Given what he is, he's not exactly adept at it . . ."

"Maybe with a weapon?  Even a gun . . ."

Ashur nodded.  "That's what I thought.  I mean, if it came to it, and he needed to protect himself, it wouldn't matter.  It 's the end result that does."

Ben broke into a slight smile.  "I'll leave that to you to talk to him about, but you're right.  It's better if he is protected, even if he doesn't like the idea to start with."

Which was probably going to be a bit of an understatement.  As a rule, youkai tended to think that the idea of using guns was unsavory, dishonorable.  Given their line of work, however, it really was important that Devlin was able to defend himself at the basest of levels.

Pushing himself to his feet, Ashur grabbed another slim-file off the desk.

"Where are you going?"

Ashur paused in the doorway and shrugged.  "I'm going to run this over to Devlin, and I'll talk to him about getting a gun."

Ben stood up, too.  "All right.  Charity and I are supposed to meet with a realtor here shortly. Want me to pick up Kells?"

"Sure," Ashur replied as he headed out of the office and down the hallway into the foyer.  Ben had mentioned looking for a place up here since they tended to come up often enough.  "Thanks."