"That was..." She trails off, breathless.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, unable to stop the possessive satisfaction curling through me. "Just the beginning."
Her hands come up to my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my tunic. "Too many clothes."
I huff a laugh. "Agreed."
I sit back on my heels, giving her space to move, and she rises with me—still unsteady but determined. Her hands find the hem of my tunic, tugging it upward, and I lift my arms to help her pull it over my head.
The fabric hits the floor and her gaze drops to my chest. To the scar across my ribs that I never talk about. To the muscles honed from years of training and discipline.
"Beautiful," she whispers, hands spreading across my skin like she's trying to memorize the feel of me.
I want to laugh at that—at being called beautiful when she's the most stunning thing I've ever seen—but her fingers are tracing the lines of my abdomen now, dipping lower to the waistband of my pants, and rational thought becomes difficult.
She works the laces open with fumbling fingers, her inexperience showing but her determination unwavering. When she finally gets them undone, I help her push them down and off, kicking them aside.
Now I'm as bare as she is. And the way she's looking at me—like I'm something precious and powerful all at once—makes my chest tighten.
"Come here," she murmurs, tugging me back down to her.
I settle over her again, bracing myself on my forearms so I don't crush her. Our bodies align perfectly—her soft curves against my hard planes, her warmth seeping into my skin.
She wraps her legs around my waist, ankles locking at the small of my back, and the position shifts my hips forward. The head of my cock brushes against her entrance and we both groan at the contact.
"Please," she breathes. "I need you."
I reach between us, lining myself up, and then I'm sinking into her—slow and steady and gods, it's like coming home.
She's tight and hot and perfect around me, her body yielding to mine like we were made to fit together. Which, according to the bond, we were.
I bottom out inside her and have to pause, every muscle in my body straining with the effort of holding still. Of not just rutting into her like an animal.
"Fuck," I grit out. "You feel... I can't even..."
Her hands slide up my back, nails digging in slightly. "Move. Please move."
I pull back until just the tip of me remains inside her, then sink back in—slow and deliberate. Setting a rhythm that's unhurried but deep, making sure she feels every inch of me.
She moans, head falling back against the pillows, and I take the opportunity to kiss her throat. To suck a mark into the skin there that will tell the world she's claimed.
Mine.
The word echoes through me with every thrust, branding itself into my bones. She's mine and I'm never letting her go. Never letting anyone hurt her again.
"Lorenth—" My name breaks on her lips as I angle my hips, hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars. "Oh gods—right there?—"
"I know." I keep the angle, keep the pace, driving into her with a control that's rapidly fraying. "Feel so good wrapped around me. So perfect. Like you were made for this. Made forme."
She whimpers, legs tightening around my waist, pulling me deeper. "Yes—yours—I'm yours?—"
The bond roars in approval, magic crackling under my skin. I can feel her pleasure mixing with mine, the connection between us amplifying everything until I don't know where I end and she begins.
All I know is that I need her to come again. Need to feel her fall apart around my cock.
I shift my weight to one arm, freeing my other hand to slide between our bodies. My thumb finds her clit, circling it in time with my thrusts, and she cries out—sharp and desperate.
"That's it," I murmur against her ear. "Come for me again. Want to feel you clench around me when you fall apart."
