He lowered over me again, the warm weight of him stealing the air from my lungs. His mouth claimed mine, fierce but tender, coaxing me open with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue that made thought impossible. His hands drifted over my skin as if committing my body to a memory he intended to keep forever.
His touch trailed over my breast, teasing the already swollen nipple. Pleasure unfurled low and deep, an ember he tended with maddening patience. My body arched into him instinctively, responding to the places he touched, to the wayhe touched them, until I could not tell where his breath ended and mine began.
He gave each of my breasts an equal amount of attention before his hand slid further down, encouraging my legs apart. When his lips closed around my nipple, I moaned, fingers digging into his hair. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, causing a wicked desire to mount within me once again.
“Sylum…” I moaned, his name little more than a breath. “Please.”
I rolled my hips against his erection. The deep, guttural groan that escaped him vibrated against my chest. I smiled, realizing I could have the same effect on him as he was having on me.
“If you keep doing that,” he warned softly against my skin, “I won’t be able to restrain myself much longer.”
His fingers slipped between my thighs, gliding over the slick heat and touching me in a way no man ever had. I gasped into his kiss, revelling at the sensation. With practiced expertise, he stroked and teased my core, igniting a heat that I was sure would burn me to ash.
He kissed his way down my body, slow and sinful, until my world narrowed to his mouth against my skin and the terrible, exquisite anticipation that left me trembling. Every brush of him fed the wildfire he had set loose in me.
He pressed gentle kisses against the inside of my thigh then. My body stiffened. I looked down at him, nestled between my thighs, legs draped over his shoulders. “Whatare you—” before I could finish my sentence, he smiled just before his tongue brushed my core.
My body jerked at the wildly inappropriate sensation. The things he was doing were unheard of, scandalous… deliciously wicked.
And I’d never been so eager to let him.
My head fell back on the pillow as the desperate need he was dragging out of me coiled deep within me. His tongue was just as practiced as his fingers, licking, sucking, until I was all but crying from the sheer ecstasy. I moaned wantonly, my pelvis grinding against his face. I begged, I pleaded, his name coming out in a sharp cry.
When I was sure I could no longer withstand whatever this wondrous torture was, he slipped his finger inside of me. I cried out, my head thrashing from side to side, heat blooming through my body, while stars danced behind my eyelids.
“Oh god, Sylum,” I breathed, panting as he continued his leisurely caresses until my release finally calmed. My body felt heavy, languid, as he gently unhooked my legs and climbed over me.
He kissed me deeply, the taste of my arousal still lingering on his lips. His body pressed me into the mattress, caging me in a way my mind should have feared, but my heart… my heart reached for him with equal madness.
“Make love to me,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair.
He moaned, positioning himself at my entrance. He reached between our bodies, his finger pressing into my swollen clit.
And when he sank into me, I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, holding on as pain flared and then melted into something far worse—pleasure so intense it bordered on self destruction. Inch by solid inch, Sylum buried himself inside me.
He stilled, holding himself poised, trembling with the effort to keep gentle with me.
I met his dark gaze. His hand cupped my jaw. I nodded wordlessly, offering him a reassuring smile.
He kissed me then, long, soft, and hungry.
He began to move. Not hurried, not careless, but with a reverence that undid me. Each breath, each thrust sent the pleasure building again, deeper, hotter, until I was clutching at his shoulders as though I might fall straight through the world if I let go.
I moaned, pleading his name.
He groaned at the sound, burying himself deeper, harder. My nails dug into his back as I lifted my hips and ground my pelvis against his, desperate for the friction. The pleasure crested, broke, seared through me in a rush that made the room tilt, made the world vanish. When I shattered, he followed, his body tensing around me, his breath caught against my throat. His whole self poured into the moment as though he had waited a lifetime for it.
We lay there, still intertwined, neither of us willing to move. I trailed my fingers down his spine with light, lingering touches, and breathed deeply for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
Chapter 12
When my eyes opened again, Sylum was already half dressed, his white shirt open at the throat, the dark fall of his hair damp from washing. He stood near the hearth, fastening the cuff at his wrist, the faintest smile curving his lips when he saw me stir.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
I stretched languidly beneath the coverlet, feeling the ache of the night before in every warm, secret place. “It’s far too early for you to look so handsome.”
He chuckled, crossing the room to press a kiss to my forehead.
