I giggle at the tingling that courses between us, tickling my skin. “This is amazing. I didn’t expect it to feel so strong.”
He nods. “Honestly, I didn’t either. I’ve studied and monitored energy levels for years, past and current, natural and synthetic. What I felt during the ceremony, exceeded anything I’ve come across. Even before the storms began.”
We both fall silent, considering this.
Maybe the Goddess is rewarding us. Or maybe it’s an omen for the energy that’s to come once we renew the elemental lands. A sign for what could be in Castara.
I gently touch the water floating above us, the tips of my fingers skimming along the smooth bubble surrounding it. Cillian follows my hand, but instead of reaching for the creation we made, he runs his fingers down my arm slowly. Goosebumps break out in his wake.
Our arms fall and we interlock our fingers, the combined elements above us slowly reducing to a single petal with a water droplet that floats to the bed between us. I turn my head to face him and find his gaze already pinned on me. In an instant, the mood shifts from playful to intimate.
His intense eyes swirl with desire. My gaze drops to his lips, and I watch his throat rise and fall as he swallows. Rolling onto his side, he props himself up, over me. My head falls back when he leans down, kissing his way up my neck. The smell of fresh rain fills the room. I let out a tiny whimper as he reaches the soft area near the elongated tip of my ear.
“Lila,” he groans as if he’s in physical pain as he nips my earlobe.
Our hands are memorizing every leaf of each other’s bodies, sending my magic into a frenzy. He moves down to my chest, his lips caressing the skin of my exposed cleavage. I moan as he trails lower, his breath a cool stream against the heat of my skin. He groans into me, his hands gripping my hips with something between reverence and hunger.
Everywhere he touches, his magic lingers—a soft, rolling tide meeting the steady, rooted pulse of mine. Water and earth, yielding and unyielding, colliding and entwining.
“You feel like home,” he whispers, his voice raw, like the rush of a waterfall over jagged rock. “You always have.” His foreheadrests against my stomach for a beat, his ocean eyes wild and unguarded when he looks up at me.
I clutch at his back, feeling the way his muscles shift beneath my fingertips, slick with the dampness of our mingling energies. My vines respond instinctively to my will, twisting around his waist, pulling him up my wanting body, desperate to tether him to me, to keep him close. To irreversibly bind us together in the most physical way possible.
He claims my lips again, the kiss deep and consuming. Magic surges between us, a cool wave crashing into the warmth of my own power, sending a shudder through my entire being. He reaches between us, fisting the fabric of my dress, dragging it up my legs. When the skirt snags its limit, he groans in frustration.
“Roll over,” he growls against my ear, the command sending an aching pulse to my core.
When I don’t respond fast enough, my body flips, as if caught in an unseen wave. A giggle escapes me before dying in my throat as his fingers skim down my spine. Twisting my head, I watch over my shoulder as his reverent eyes trail my exposed back until he reaches the spot where the dress hits the dimples in my back.
As if snapped back into the moment, he makes quick work of the buttons holding the lace together. Multiple clasps pop and roll off the bed, splashing into the stream below. This time he doesn’t even give me a chance before his magic rolls me back over to face him. He peels the dress down my body, his eyes darkening like the deepest depths of the ocean as I am bared to him.
“Your turn,” I whisper as he watches me, completely vulnerable to him.
He strips away his clothing, and I realize that for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like a prize to be claimed or a connection to be leveraged. With Cillian, I am justwanted. Itisn’t for my birthdate or my lineage, it is just forme. He would have given it all up, for me.
I stare at the male that the Goddess has blessed me with. My mate,my other half. He is perfect in every way. Emotionally, intellectually, andphysically.
My eyes trail down his sculpted abdomen, and I reach up, placing my hand on his thick thigh that straddles me while tracing a single finger down that vee with my other hand.
My gaze snaps to his as I reach the top of his impressive length. Unable to wait any longer, Cillian lowers himself over me. With nothing separating us, he slowly glides his hand down my stomach. Pressing against my core, he slips a single finger into me, his thumb finding my clit.
The sensation has me arching into him as if drawn by an unseen current. My mouth falls open, gasping for the wind as his thumb expertly circles the sensitive nerves. He draws me to the edge before pulling out, leaving only the lingering sensation of his magic behind.
A whine escapes my throat, and he chuckles.
“You’re so wet,” he says, his warm breath against my neck. It sends goosebumps across my skin as his hand snakes between us again.
I anticipate the feel of his fingers. Instead, the thick end of his cock runs from my opening to my clit and back again. We find each other’s lips as I lift my hips, searching for the sensation again. And he obliges, sliding up and down through my desire. We both moan, the sound muffled into the other’s mouth.
With the next swipe of his thick erection, he pauses at my entrance, applying the slightest pressure. An unspoken question. I answer with a scrape of my nails down his back, arching into him. His fingers dig into my hip, his other hand on the bed next to my head as he presses into me, the head of hiscock stretching me, filling me as he slides in. The wind catches in my throat as I adjust to his size.
Breathe, Nissa.
His voice echoes in my mind while his lips are busy peppering kisses across my breasts. When he finds my taut nipple and sucks it into his mouth, pleasure shoots like an arrow directly to where he’s pressing deeper into me.
I cry out and he freezes. My hands are frantic, pulling at him to continue. “Don’t stop!” I beg at the same time that I scream it in my head.
A male smile curves his mouth. Eyes hooded, he reaches a hand to my other nipple. He applies the precise amount of pressure I need—yes!—before pulling his hips back a fraction and then filling me completely.
