She shook her head, opening her eyes, pupils wide. "Just full." She rolled her hips experimentally and gasped. "Fates. Oh—Esag…"
His hands tightened, fighting the desperate urge to thrust upward. "Take your time."
She didn't.
She took him deep, seating herself fully with a broken moan that nearly made him erupt.
Esag groaned, head falling back, eyes squeezing shut. "You feel so good."
"So do you," she breathed, chest rising and falling quickly. "You fill me so perfectly."
She began to move, slow at first, then found a rhythm that suited her, rolling her hips with growing confidence. He met her motions with steady support, hands guiding, stabilizing, savoring the way her breath hitched each time she took him deeper.
Her body was exquisite—tight, responsive, eager. Her desire was unfiltered, honest, entirely focused on him.
"Tula," he groaned, dragging his hands up her spine, "you're going to break me."
"Good," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him, her lips hungry and warm. "I want you ruined for anyone else."
"That happened weeks ago."
She stilled, eyes widening, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.
Esag cupped the back of her neck. "You ruined me the moment you looked at me on that submarine, fierce and terrified and pretending that you still hated me." His thumb stroked behind her ear. "I knew then. In fact, I knew when I kept carving your face when I aimed to carve Wonder's. The Fates were telling me that you were the one."
She blinked, expression turning raw. "Esag…"
Before she could speak further, her body tightened around him, her breath catching on a sharp inhale. She clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders.
He shifted, rolling them with one fluid motion until she lay beneath him, her legs wrapping around his waist. He braced himself over her, kissing her deeply as he began to thrust, slow, controlled, each stroke coaxing her higher.
Her breath turned ragged. She met him thrust for thrust, her voice breaking in soft, urgent sounds that pushed him closer to the edge.
"You're perfect," he murmured against her jaw. "My goddess."
Her hips arched. "Esag?—"
Her climax hit fast—her body tensing, her breath catching, her lips parting on a cry that he swallowed with his. Her inner muscles tightened around him, rhythmic and insistent.
He groaned, losing the last shreds of control. He thrust harder, burying himself in the heat and pulse of her, riding the wave of her climax until his own tore through him—hot and overwhelming.
12
TULA
The shower had been almost as revelatory as the sex.
Esag had insisted on washing her hair, his big hands surprisingly gentle as they worked the shampoo through the strands. Then he'd soaped every inch of her body with a gentleness that had bordered on reverence, careful with her oversensitive breasts, and paying special attention to her belly.
Now they lay tangled up in one another in his bed, the soft duvet pulled up to their waists, her head resting on his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady beneath her ear, soothing, calming, reassuring.
Tula was finally at peace, perhaps for the first time she could remember, but she didn't know whether it was the aftermath of the venom, the sex marathon, or just Esag being all the things for her that he hadn't been for Gulan.
Usually, the thought would have been enough to spark a surge of anger, or at least sadness at the unfairness that her sister had been subjected to, but not now. Not when Tula's limbs felt liquid, her heart full, and her soul buoyant and safe.
She should be sleeping, but she couldn't, or rather, didn't want to allow herself to drift away. Not yet. She was still committing to memory all the wonders she'd discovered tonight.
"You should sleep," Esag murmured, his hand stroking her back. "I don't think I'm capable of another round, but if you need me to help you fall asleep…"
