She could feel how hard he was beneath her, and despite her body's protests that it was too much, too sensitive, she felt heat pooling low in her belly again.
His hands guided her up slightly, positioning her over him. "Take me in," he commanded. "Slowly."
She lowered herself onto him with trembling thighs, gasping at the stretch. She was so sensitive that every inch felt magnified, pleasure bordering on too much but not quite crossing that line. When she was fully seated, she had to pause, breathing hard, adjusting to the fullness.
"Look," Eliam said, one hand leaving her hip to turn her face to the side.
She'd forgotten about the mirror. It stood near the wardrobe, tall and ornate, and from this angle she could see everything. See herself straddling him, her thighs spread wide, her body marked with his teeth and fingers. See the way her breasts moved with each ragged breath, nipples still red from his attention. See the flush that spread across her chest and throat, the autumn marks standing out stark against her skin.
See the way he looked at her, eyes dark with possession and hunger.
"Watch yourself take me," he said, his voice rough. "I want you to see what you look like when you're mine."
His hands on her hips urged her up, then pulled her back down, and she watched in the mirror as her body moved, as she took him deep. The sight was obscene and intimate all at once, and she couldn't look away.
She found her pace, rolling her hips in a way that had them both gasping. The oversensitivity from before made every movement almost unbearably intense, pleasure building faster than she thought possible after already coming three times.
One of his hands left her hip to slide between her legs, finding her center. She cried out at the contact, her rhythm faltering.
"Don't stop," he commanded, his fingers circling with firm pressure. “Watch while you fall apart on me."
She forced her eyes to stay on their reflection, watching as her body moved over his, as his hand worked between her legs, as her expression shifted from concentration to desperation. She could see the exact moment the pleasure became too much, see her mouth fall open, see her back arch—
The fourth orgasm hit differently than the others. Deeper. More consuming. She felt it in every part of her body, felt herself clenching around him, felt the warmth in her chest explode outward in waves of golden light that made her skin glow.
Eliam groaned beneath her, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as he thrust up into her, chasing his own release. She watched in the mirror as he came, his head thrown back, his whole body going rigid. The sight of him losing control beneath her sent another wave of pleasure through her already oversensitized body.
She collapsed forward onto his chest, gasping, completely spent. Her whole body was shaking with aftershocks, and she could feel him still pulsing inside her.
His arms came around her, holding her close while their breathing slowly returned to normal. One hand stroked through her hair with unexpected tenderness.
"Four," he said with deep satisfaction. "That's more like it."
She couldn't even form words to respond, just lay against his chest feeling thoroughly, completely claimed in every possible way. Her body was marked inside and out, painted with bruises and bite marks and the lingering sensation of his touch.
"Say it again," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Briar almost asked what he meant but the previous evening came flooding back to her. “I…” she began, suddenly feeling shy despite the intimacy. “I love you.”
He pulled her closer, burying his face against the curve of her throat. “Rest now. It’s still early, barely dawn.”
Briar closed her eyes again, feeling the warmth in her chest settle between them, content and sated.
Briar woke to the scent of food and the sound of water running in the adjoining bathing room. For a moment she just lay there, sore in places she'd forgotten could be sore, marked inside and out, but feeling more rested than she had in days.
The bed beside her was empty, though she could hear Eliam moving around in the other room.
She sat up slowly, wincing at the pull of muscles that had been thoroughly used. The bruises on her inner thighs were dark and obvious, the bite marks on her shoulders and throat even more so. She looked like she'd been in a fight, though the kind of fight was decidedly different from the ones involving Malus or border confrontations.
"You're awake," Eliam said from the doorway. "Good."
He crossed to her, his eyes tracking over her body with possessive satisfaction. The marks he'd left were clearly visible, and she saw his expression settle into something smug.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Sore," she admitted.
"As you should be." He pulled back the blankets without asking permission, ignoring her protest as he scooped her up. "Bath first."
