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to thrust, plastering me against the mirror. The cool glass pressing against my bare breasts only added to the sensory assault.
    I threw back my head and screamed as I fought to roll back onto Arles’s meaty cock. I had no leverage, held off the ground as I was, so I hooked my high-heeled feet behind his knees and ground backward, taking that big shaft as deep as I could get it while he pistoned his muscled ass, relentless as a machine, sweat rolling down his brawny torso and slicking his chest hair flat.
    His cock bored in and out of my gripping flesh with just the perfect friction, raking pulses of pleasure through me with every pass. The first deep pulse rippled through my belly. I came, my body jerking helplessly against the cool surface of the mirror in time to each blazing pulse.
    Arles roared, his head thrown back, fingers digging into my thighs as he rammed me against the glass, burying his cock so deep his balls teased the lips of my pussy, filling me full.
    We tumbled into the aftermath locked together, breathing hard, sweat-slick, his big hands still gripping my legs, my feet still wrapped around his calves. The muscles of my thighs jumped and quivered as he finally lowered me to my feet.
    “Odin’s eye,” I managed. “If I weren’t bound to this damned mirror, I’d be a puddle on the floor.”
    “Then I’d better turn you loose and put you to bed, because I’m no better off.” He reached for my wrists and touched something. My arms sprang free, and I lowered them to my sides, wincing at the ache in abused muscles.
    Arles swept me into his arms again, this time with an audible grunt. Apparently I’d finally managed to tire even his gene-sculpted body.
    He carried me to the huge, circular bed that ruled the room. A veiling canopy of transparent curtains draped from a single gilded ring set in the ceiling. Urns of white roses surrounded it.
    Opposite that stood a gilt-wood armoire near a massive dresser that was damned near bigger than my entire cabin on the Valkyrie Quest . A carpet the length of my captain’s launch covered the floor in vivid, swirling patterns of blue and green.
    The bed’s sheets felt impossibly smooth and soft against my sweating body as I sprawled on the mattress, stunned limp by pleasure.
    Arles did something to my corset, which popped open like a clamshell. He peeled it off me, dropped it on the floor, and started shedding his boots and pants. I ogled him shamelessly, enjoying the revelation of powerful thighs and hard calves. Even spent as he was, there was wicked promise in the swing of his cock. I licked my lips and considered the possibilities. Arles had a short recovery time.
    But before I could reach for his tempting length, he slid into bed next to me. Arles spoke the next words in a quiet voice, but the stark truth of them reverberated all the way to my soul. “I love you, wife.”
    I discovered I couldn’t breathe, as if I’d taken a hard blow to the chest. Several minutes passed before I could speak again. “And I love you, my husband. I always have. I always will.”
    Arles smiled at me, and for a moment I saw the boy he’d been all those years ago. He drew me against the warm strength of his big body and sighed in pure contentment, as if all was right with his world.
    Arles of Tor loves me. My paladin. My prince . My heart filled with such blazing joy, I was amazed it didn’t glow through the walls of my chest. Blinking away tears, I snuggled into Arles’s arms and drifted off to sleep.

 
     
     
    Angela Knight
     
    Angela Knight’s first book was written in pencil and illustrated in crayon; she was nine years old at the time. A few years later, she read The Wolf and the Dove and fell in love with romance. In addition to her fiction work, Angela’s publishing career includes a stint as a comic book writer and ten years as a newspaper reporter. Several of her stories have won South Carolina Press Association awards.
    In 1996, Angela realized her dream of