Because right now, I don’t want words.
Just more.
More of him. More of this. More of the way his hard length feels inside me.
As if he can read my mind, his hand shifts, slipping between us, when his fingers find my clit I bite down on a curse as a bolt of pure pleasure rips right through me. White-hot and blinding.Fuck, and then they move, tight circles in perfect rhythm with every roll of his hips.
My back arches. I can’t take it, “More” I cry, voice breaking.
“Thorn, you’re going to fucking kill me.” His voice vibrates through me as he drives back down harder this time, reckless, like control’s gone and all that’s left is instinct.
My toes curl. Heat coils low in my belly, spreading fast—tightening, climbing—until I’m shaking, barely holding on.
But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow. He just shifts the angle, pounding deeper—thrusting straight into that spot that makes my vision go white at the edges. His fingers never leaving my clit, same tight, deliberate circles that steal every thought, every fucking ounce of sense.
“Don’t stop... don't stop,” I plead, high pitched, hips rocking desperately against him now, chasing it. Needing it. He meets me, stroke for stroke.
Every nerve in my body is strung too tight. Building and building till I can't take anymore.
Until finally everything breaks, detonates—light, sound, breath
My thighs clamp around him, back bowing, a strangled cry tearing from my throat as my whole body locks around him.
My second orgasm hits like a fist, brutal and blinding, dragging me under, till I can't breathe.
It rips through me so intense that for a moment I forget everything—who I am, where I am. Even pain falls away. Gone in one euphoric rush, like the last seven months have been wiped clean and remade in bliss and pleasure and the goddamn feel of him inside me.
He follows a second later, one final thrust, teeth burying in the curve of my shoulder as his voice breaks on my name, strained, like it’s been pulled from the root of him.
For a moment, neither of us moves. His hand still on my hip, mine still on his chest. Silent, except for the rough, uneven sounds of our breaths in the dark. Then he lifts his head, eyes searching mine. “You okay?”
I nod, smiling because I am. Completely wrecked. Completely fine.
He kisses the corner of my mouth, a quiet thank-you against my skin, before collapsing beside me, chest still rising fast.
“That was...” He exhales hard, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what that was. You’re dangerous.” It’s shaped like a tease—but something in the way he says it lands wrong. Too quiet. Like he means it.
Then he turns, rolling on to his side towards me, head propped up by his elbow, and those dark, dreamy eyes meet mine.
“Pretty sure the whole damn Citadel heard me,” I mutter, cheeks flushing.
“I threw up a silence shield the second I walked in,” he says, focus dropping to my mouth as his thumb brushes over my bottom lip.
“Thesecondyou walked in?” I arch a brow. “Feeling lucky, were you?”
He huffs a laugh. “Well... notthesecond.”
I glance around the room, books and pencils scattered around the floor, the desk looking like it barely survived.
“Yeah… sorry about that.” He mutters.
“At least it’s mine and not Ezzy’s,” I say, smirking. “I moved a book on her desk once and she nearly had a heart attack.”
A crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but then something shifts. He opens his lips like he’s about to speak… but doesn’t. Just lets his thumb drag slowly down my arm, pausing at my wrist like he’s checking for a pulse. Then finally, “You feelokay?” he asks, voice frayed, dropping his gaze. “Your Threads, did I... did I take anything from you?”
“It was...” I drag in a breath, still not fully steady. “—a lot.” His eyes flick up. “In a good way, areallyfucking good way,” I add quickly, “But I’m fine. My magic’s fine.”
He lets out a slow exhale, his thumb brushes mine—absent, almost distracted—but the relief’s written all over him
