Kyron’s fingers move over the thick gouge along my outer thigh, and his lips kiss the dark bruise on the front of my upper arm. I want nothing more than for him to love every blemish, every stretch mark, as much as the next. I let him take his fill, and when his eyes return to mine, I reach for the hem of his shirt.
“May I?” I ask, lifting it.
“My body is yours. You never have to ask, Raelle.”
“Dangerous words.”
He cocks a brow and says, “They are true. You can test them if you like.”
I smile and pull the tunic over his head.
He is as spectacular as I remember. Dark golden skin covers hard, defined muscles. Some of his imperfections were self-imposed, the tattoo on his bicep depicting the Lucent and Stigian crests as one and the horizontal ancient script running down his left side. Other abnormalities to his body are the consequences of battle and a life growing up in a military camp. It all combines to create a body I long to worship.
I guide him back into the blanket, and his lips quirk when he realizes I don’t plan to let him take charge of this moment. He places one arm behind his head, and with his other, he tucks my hair behind my ear. He silently watches as I untie his pants and press my lips to the trail of dark hair below his navel. I draw my tongue over the lines on each of his hips that come together to form a deep V. The pine and spice dance across my tastebuds. Even the way this man tastes drives me wild.
My hand slips inside his pants and releases his hard cock from the tight confines of the leather. I’m captivated by the way my palm slides down his soft skin and how his hips lift to meet the motion when I do it again. Watching him find pleasure in my touch has me pressing my thighs togetherto appease the growing throb between them.
I brush my lips over him, my tongue darting out to taste the small drop of moisture on the tip.
“Fuck, Raelle,” he whispers, pulling my gaze to his.
The sound of my name slipping through his lips is so sweet. I need to hear it again.
With our eyes locked, I take him into my mouth. The gold around his pupils grows bright like beams radiating from an eclipsed sun, and pure bliss takes residence on his handsome face. His fingers tangle in my hair, holding to it like it can save him from slipping over the edge too soon. But I have no plans to give him that release just yet.
I take my time relishing in his salty taste. My mouth and hand move together, taking him to the back of my throat and stroking him until he is rock hard. The muscles in his stomach flex and his head rolls back.
“Your pretty mouth feels so good,” he breathes, rocking his hips and sliding in farther.
I want to turn the burn deep in his pelvis into an inferno, make it a raging fire that will only be satisfied when he is buried deep inside me. I suck harder, faster, desperate to make him feel that way.
“Raelle,” he says, his voice a raspy plea. “Not like this.”
“Not like what?” I ask, dragging my tongue up the length of him.
He groans and thrusts into my mouth once. “I need to be inside of you.”
He doesn’t need to beg. Only one thing can satiate the ache at my center. I’ve wanted nothing as much as I want him right now.
With a small kiss, I release him from my hold and crawl up his body. Pressing my heated skin to his, I slide my hand between us and bring him to my entrance.
“Is this what you need?” I ask, running the head of his cock over my clit.
He grips the back of my neck and pulls my mouth to his. “Tell me you need it too.”
“I need you,” I confess, sinking down on him.
“Fuck, yes.”
When we are fully pressed together, I go still, finding delight in the stretch, the fullness, the intimate connection. It overwhelms me so much that I want to laugh and cry all at the same time. But mostly I want to move,to create a friction so powerful that we lose ourselves in each other.
“I love you,” I say again, my lips brushing his while I lift my hips and lower them.
His head tilts back and his lips parts. “Until my dying breath, Raelle.”
He grabs my waist, guiding me up and down. We fit together like the Statera cast his body for the pleasure of mine. My thighs rest perfectly over his hips, and my lips reach the sensitive skin at the curve of his neck. His voice whispers softly in my ear, chanting the praises of what my body does to him. Our heartbeats create a frantic rhythm, one pounding after the other, and our souls sing together an ethereal song that prickles my skin. I could spend the rest of my life lost in the symphony conducted by our bond.
“I can’t believe the Statera made me yours,” he says before pressing a kiss over my heart.
