His kisses were searing against my sensitive skin until he reached the apex. One gaze up at me and my blood heated. His fingers slid over my folds, parting me, before closing over the bundle of nerves at my center. He moved his thumb over me, circling again and again. My hips bucked just as he replaced his thumb with his lips and sucked, his tongue flicking against me.
“Gods,” I gasped, nearly falling forward. My knees buckled and I grabbed blindly for his head. My fingers tightened in the curls at the nape of his neck while he reached one hand behind my ass, pulling me closer, locking me in. I was immobile against him, and all I could do was try to hold onto him as ripples of pleasure raced through my body, coiling tighter and tighter between my legs.
One finger slipped inside me and I clenched around him, feeling like I was going to tip over the edge. And in truth, it wasn’t going to take much. Despite the pain, despite the uncertainty and the long road of healing I knew lay ahead of us,there was an unbridled joy racing through me—pulsing through my heart, bringing it back to life.
Because Rhyan was here, he was back, and that alone was going to make me come. He added another finger, pumping them in and out, as his tongue laved at my center. He groaned, his fingers curling inside me.
My orgasm tore through me, my back arching and toes curling as I cried out. Still shuddering and shaking, I collapsed against Rhyan, and he gathered me into his lap, my head resting against his neck, our hearts pressed together, and beating as one.
“Fuck,” he said, brushing my hair back. He nipped at my ear. “You taste better than I remember.”
I blushed. “I thought we were supposed to get in the shower.”
“Oh,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “We are.” He locked my ankles around his back, his cock pressed against my center. The tip glistened with his own arousal. Then his hands were around my ass as I clasped my fingers around his neck.
Rhyan rose to his feet, and a second later stumbled into the shower, still holding me.
He pushed me against the wall, the tiles cool against my fevered skin. At once, I started to arch, grinding against him. His cock pulsed between us, and I couldn’t help but reach for him again, sliding the moisture down, and coating him with more of my own. My lips found his neck, kissing and sucking and biting.
I needed to claim him, to brand him, to tell the whole fucking universe he was mine and I would unleash hell on anyone who tried to come between us. I needed every lick and kiss and touch to say that there was nowhere he could be taken, nowhere he could be hidden where I wouldn’t find him, wouldn’t come for him. No dimension, no timeline, no realm. It didn’t matter. He was mine and he always, always would be.
We writhed together, every part of his cock rubbing against me, reigniting the heat inside as we built more friction and pleasure.
“You ready for me, partner?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes. Rhyan, please. Please.”
His eyes narrowed, his eyes flicking down my body and back to mine. “Please what?”
I gripped his face in my hands, pushing my hips so far forward, the head of his cock slid just barely inside.
“Please fuck me,” I gasped, pushing forward trying to pull him all the way in, to take him deeper. “Now.”
But he pulled himself back, leaving me empty. I was near tears. One orgasm hadn’t been enough. I needed more. I needed all of him. I needed to feel him fill me. To make me whole. And much as I needed to claim him, I wanted him to do the same to me. To know it was his body, his soul, his heart and mind, all that made him Rhyan doing it.
But as he watched me writhe and buck, begging him to take me, a vicious glint emerged from the emerald of his irises.
“Where did Auriel touch you?” he rasped, his voice dangerously low.
“Wh-what?” I asked.
“Where,” he demanded, “did he touch you? Was it here?” He kissed my mouth. “Here?” He licked my neck. “Here?” He pulled on my breast, squeezing it before he lowered his lips onto my nipple.
“I-I—” I was too lost in the sensations to answer. Too muddled with my own desire for him and confusion to think straight. “I thought—” I gasped as he sucked on my other nipple. I bucked, but he used his body to flatten me against the wall, keeping his hips and cock cruelly away from my sex. One hand slid down, cupping me between my legs.
“What about here?” he asked. “Did you let him touch you here?”
I cried out, as he slid two fingers inside of me, curling and pumping in and out, in and out. “I thought … ah … you weren’t … mad … about … that.”
His eyebrow arched, his nostrils flaring. “I said you didn’t have to be sorry for what you did with him. That you didn’t do anything wrong.” I frowned.
“And you didn’t,” he said, softly kissing the tip of my nose. Then he slid a third finger inside, fucking me with a bruising pace. “But I never said,” he thrust, “that I wasn’t mad.”
I panted. “You—you’re mad?” I asked. “What the hell is this?” I circled my hips against his hand, greedily seeking more friction, biting my lip as fresh waves of pleasure rounded and tightened in my core.
“Your punishment,” he said, his thumb pressing against my center. His forehead pressed against mine, angled and our lips slanted together. “I know you feel guilty.” “I do,” I panted in frustration.
“So then, do you want me to punish you?” he asked. “Give us both some satisfaction?”
