“Just love me, Tiernon. Please.”
“I do. Gods, you know I do.” He brushes his lips against my collarbone, and I tremble. So he does it again. And again.
Moving lower, he pierces the fabric between my breasts with one brutally sharp fang, then yanks upward. The material rips, and he tears it away with his hands, a groan spilling from his throat as my breasts are freed.
He closes his mouth over a nipple, flicking his tongue until I gasp, clawing at his shoulders. But he’s already working his way down, pausing for a nibble here, a kiss there, his tongue drifting over one spot before his fangs gently scrape at another, until I’m groaning, arching against him, desperate for relief.
Heavy, languid intoxication spreads through my body as Tiernon pushes my thighs apart, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin behind my knees. When he lowers his head, I wind my fingers into his hair, already trembling with need.
Sweeping his tongue over me, he settles into a rhythm, stroking and caressing and teasing. When he flicks that clever tongue across my clit, I moan, tugging at his hair. Tiernon lets out a rough growl, driving me higher.
The rest of the world falls away, until all I can think about is the feel of his mouth on me, the grip of his hands on my thighs, the pleased, satisfied sounds he makes.
“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods …”
My climax roars through me and I twist beneath his hands, chasing the pleasure. Tiernon continues until I’m limp, my body shaking with aftershocks. When he lifts his head, his eyes are filled with wicked delight.
“I’ve missed your taste,” he murmurs, lowering his head once more to pepper my inner thighs with kisses. “I’ve missed those little sounds you make.”
My cheeks heat and he grins up at me. But his face is flushed with need.
I reach for him, and he shucks off his own pants, kneeling between my thighs. I let out one of those little sounds, and his grin widens.
“I need you. Now.”
Slowly, he presses himself inside me, and I wind my legs around his waist, tilting my hips. He takes his time, hips rolling as he withdraws, pushes deeper, withdraws once more. When he’s finally seated within me, he lets out a groan.
“Do you remember the last time we did this? Before I left?” His voice is low and hoarse, and he withdraws again, pushing deeper.
Wrapping him in my arms, I angle my hips, needing more.
Cupping my face with one hand, he holds me steady for his kiss, and I gasp against his mouth as he plunges into me.
“I remember,” he murmurs, circling his hips as I pull him closer, desperate. Pleasure burns through my core, low and insistent, until I’m gasping.
“Did you know it would be the last time?” I ask breathlessly.
A few days before the Sands, I’d met Tiernon after training. We’d wrestled like children, then made love with the unrestrained joy of two people who had all the time in the world.
The thought that he could fake that …
Tiernon goes still. “No. There are so many things I would do differently, Arvelle. But that day … I’ve relived it a thousand times in my mind. You had grass in your hair and a glint in your eye. I teased you about using me to take the edge off your nerves. You told me you expected me to do more than just take the edge off. By the time we were done, you wanted to be boneless.”
My eyes fill, and he nuzzles my cheek. “I succeeded.”
I hiccup a laugh at his smug smirk, and he presses into me once more. He drops kisses across my face, his hand slipping between us, and I gasp at the burst of pleasure.
He strokes me again, thrusting deep. The sudden burst of sensation makes me moan, and his eyes darken.
Tiernon’s mouth takes mine, our tongues tangling, bodies shifting together. Again and again he thrusts, his rhythm pushing me higher, his fingers guiding me toward the edge of bliss.
And still, my climax is almost unexpected. It sweeps through me, swelling over and over again as I shudder in his arms. Tiernon’s body goes tense, and he thrusts deep, stilling as he empties himself inside me.
We’re both trembling, and he slumps, resting his weight on top of me for the barest moment before rolling away. Neither of us speaks, but his hand drifts across my back as I snuggle into him.
He holds me through the night, a warm, comforting presence in my bed. And when I wake up, he’s gone.
I’M NUMB ASI take a shower, pull my damp hair back into a braid, and stare at my sigil.
