Then his mouth crashed into mine.
The kiss wasn't gentle. Wasn't tentative or careful or any of the things I might have expected for a first kiss. His mouth claimed mine with hunger that had been building since he'd felt my arousal through the bond. Since I'd deliberately pressed against him. Since I'd asked what if I want you to.
Electricity exploded between us.
Actual current jumping from his lips to mine, racing through my nervous system, lighting up every pathway the spanking had carved open. The sensation was overwhelming—pleasure sharp enough to border on pain, intensity that made me gasp into his mouth.
He took advantage of my open lips. Deepened the kiss. His tongue swept against mine and more electricity jumped, creating cascading patterns that made my entire body arch toward him.
I'd never been kissed before. The cult had forbidden physical intimacy. But even without experience, I knew this wasn't normal. Knew that kisses weren't supposed to feel like lightning storms contained in flesh, weren't supposed to make your nerve endings sing and your hands scramble for purchase against his shoulders.
His hands framed my face, thumbs tracing along my cheekbones. Each point of contact sparked. The bond mark on my temple pulsed so hard I could feel it in my teeth.
When he finally pulled back—not far, just enough to breathe—his eyes were pure molten silver. His control was hanging by threads I could almost see fraying.
"More," I breathed. Not a question. A demand.
His smile was dark. Satisfied. "Greedy little lightning."
His hands slid from my face down my neck, across my collarbones, finding the hem of my shirt. He paused there, fingers playing with the fabric. Through the bond, I felt his question. His need for explicit consent even though my body was screaming yes.
"Please," I whispered. "I want—I need to feel your hands on me."
That was all the permission he needed.
He lifted my shirt in one smooth motion. Drew it over my head and dropped it carelessly to the side. His eyes tracked across my exposed skin with intensity that made me shiver.
The lightning scars traced everywhere. Down my neck. Across my collarbones. Over the curve of my breasts—still bound in the simple bra I'd worn this morning in the nursery. Along my ribs.Across my stomach. Silver-blue patterns that glowed brighter under his gaze.
"Beautiful," he breathed. His hands hovered just above my skin, not quite touching. "Mine."
The possessive sent heat flooding through me. I arched slightly, pressing my breasts toward his hands in silent invitation.
His fingers made contact. Traced one branching scar from my collarbone down over the swell of my breast. The electricity that jumped made me cry out. Made my hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging in through his shirt.
"Sensitive," he murmured. His fingers found another scar. Another. Mapping the patterns across my skin while electricity sparked with each touch. "The bond amplified your nerve endings. Every touch I give you will feel intense. Overwhelming."
"Good," I gasped. "I want overwhelming."
His smile was predatory. "Then I'll give you overwhelming."
His mouth followed where his hands had traced. Lips pressing against the lightning scar on my collarbone, tongue tracing its path down toward my breast. Each kiss sent shocks radiating outward. Each lick made the scars pulse brighter.
When his mouth closed over my nipple through the thin fabric of my bra, I nearly came off the desk.
The sensation was too much. Pleasure sharp enough to make me sob. His tongue worked against the sensitive flesh while electricity jumped from his mouth directly into my nervous system. My hands fisted in his hair, not sure if I was trying to pull him closer or push him away from intensity I couldn't process.
He made an approving sound. Switched to the other breast. Gave it the same thorough attention while his hands mapped thescars across my ribs, my stomach, learning what made me gasp and what made me whimper.
"Your shirt," I managed. My hands scrambled at the fabric. "Off. I need—please—"
He pulled back long enough to strip his shirt over his head in one motion. Then it was skin against skin and I lost the ability to form coherent thoughts.
The electricity between us intensified. His bare chest pressed against mine and current raced across every point of contact. His skin was hot. Scarred from centuries of battles I knew nothing about. Muscled in ways that made my hands want to explore endlessly.
The lightning scars on my breasts aligned with patterns on his chest and when they touched, the current jumped so intensely that we both groaned.
His mouth found mine again. Kissing me while his hands mapped my body with methodical precision. Learning my responses. Testing what made me arch toward him, what made me pull back, what made me make those desperate sounds I'd never heard myself make before.
