Not of me. Of the thing coiled inside him.
I shift fractionally closer on the bench. My lips brush his jaw, feather-light. A tremor runs through him. I kiss the hinge, the tight line beneath his ear where his pulse hammers. Salt skin, the damp edge of his hairline. His breath catches – a sharp, arrested sound.
“Angie…” Barely a whisper. A warning.
I answer with another kiss, higher this time, on the strong angle of his cheekbone. My hand drifts upward, fingers sliding into the thick waves at the nape of his neck. Touching him feels like tracing the contours of something vital, something ancient and untamed barely contained. My palm presses flat against his chest. His heart drums a frantic rhythm against my touch.
He makes a low noise, almost pained. “Don’t.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Cassian.” My voice is steadier than I feel. My other hand finds his waist, the rigid muscle beneath layers of worn fabric. I lean in, brushing my lips against his. A question. An offer. A demand.
He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t yield. It’s a stasis charged with raw want and sharper fear.
Slowly, agonizingly slow, I fit my mouth fully to his. His lips are cold, unresponsive for a heartbeat, two. Then… a fracture. A sigh escapes him into me, warm and defeated. His lips soften, moving tentatively against mine.
Tentative becomes insistent. A hand, large and calloused, sinks into the wild tangle of my hair, anchoring me. The kiss deepens. Heat ignites, fierce and sudden, chasing the icy dread from his frame. My jacket hangs open and I shrug it off, feeling the chill air kiss my collarbone before the heat from his body radiates outward.
His hands find the hem of my sweater. A silent question. I lift my arms. The sweater joins my jacket on the floor. The firelight paints shifting gold on his skin as he looks at me, his gaze heavy with wonder and that ever-present struggle.
My fingertips slide down the hard plane of his chest, over the ridged muscles of his abdomen, unfastening the button of his trousers. He gasps when I slip my hand inside the rough fabric, gripping the hard length of him already straining against confinement. His cock pulses under my cautious touch. Hot. Velvet over iron.
He groans, a broken, guttural sound that vibrates against my mouth. “Please… need to be careful.” Each word thick with strain.
“I trust you,” I murmur against his lips, stroking him slowly, feeling the power beneath my palm barely leashed. His hips buckle towards my touch. His hands drop to my hips, bunchingmy thermal shirt, pushing it up. His mouth finds the curve of my neck, teeth grazing skin, a promise that makes my breath hitch.
He yanks off my base layers. The cold air hits bare skin, making me shiver until his hands are on me, rough and reverent, cupping my breast, thumb stroking my nipple to a sharp peak.
“Cassian…”
He kneels before me on the hearth rug. Strong hands glide down my sides, gripping my hips to pull me forward to the edge of the bench, then sliding behind me. He pushes my leggings and underwear down my legs in one roughed motion. His eyes are dark, almost black, the bear-shadow prowling deep within his pupils as he looks at my naked thighs. I arch my back, offering myself openly.
His breath stutters. There’s no hesitation when he buries his face between my legs. His tongue finds my pussy with a low growl that rumbles through my bones. Hot, demanding. Anointed pressure, teasing my folds apart to glide firmly, searchingly, over my clit.
A ragged cry tears from my throat. My hands fly into his hair, holding on as his tongue works me, lathing me with long, deliberate strokes that coil tension deep in my belly.
He finds my entrance, the tip of his tongue circling, dipping inside me slightly before returning to pay relentless attention to my swollen clit. Pleasure streaks through me, sharp and brilliant as lightning. My hips buck against his mouth, riding the wave he builds with each knowing flick and suck. He pins my hips down with steady hands, forcing me to take the intensity he delivers.
A shuddering climax crashes over me, sudden and overwhelming. My vision whites out as I cry his name, pulsing around the slick thrust of his tongue still driving me higher.
As I tremble through the echoes, he lifts his head. His lips glisten. He pulls back, rising, fists clenched at his sides, breathing hard. Watching me with predatory stillness. Hungry.The wildness is close to the surface now, a halo of barely contained force. But his eyes stay locked on mine – human, desperate, pleading silently.
I slide off the bench onto the rug with him. My hand wraps around his cock again, thick and straining purple-tipped. I guide him to me, positioning him at the wet, aching entrance of my pussy. His body locks. Tremors rack him.
“Can’t… control if…” Gritted teeth. Fear wins a fraction.
I press my forehead to his chest, my heart hammering against his ribs. I push my hips back against him, feeling that blunt head stretch me open as I sink down onto him. Slow. Determined. Taking him, inch by thick inch, inside my heat.
He throws his head back, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he sheaths himself completely inside me. Filled. Possessed. Muscles in his arms stand out like cables, holding himself rigidly still. “Angel…”
I clamp my legs around his hips, arching, locking my ankles at the small of his back. This time, it’s my command. “Move.” It’s barely a whisper.
He breaks. A low, possessive snarl rips from his chest as he drives into me. Deep. Hard. Pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in with a force that steals my breath.
The rhythm is raw, urgent. No finesse, just this desperate, consuming joining. Each deep, perfect slide of his cock inside my slickness sparks showers of sensation. Hips snap against hips. The sounds are wet, guttural, the raw grind of bodies pushed beyond caution.
The bear holds the leash. Just. Savage want vibrates through every powerful thrust that drives me against the rug, forcing gasps and moans from me on each full stroke. Every movement sings along nerve endings already overwhelmed.
My inner muscles flutter wildly around him, gripping hard as he surges deeper with each snapping motion of his hips.Tremors begin low in my stomach again, a deeper, more demanding pressure coiling tight.
