His dreams were difficult at times. Especially those when he was young at the scholarada. But other times, they buoyed me, assuring that his deepest desires lie with me.
A warm blush touches his cheeks, which would be adorable if not for the ravenous expression that takes over his face.
He traces his finger over my lips. “You liked what you saw.”
Not a question.
“Very much,” I sign, trying to breathe at a steady pace.
Those eyes narrow on my lips again. Gently, he tips my chin up and slants his warm mouth over mine, sharing the sweetness left by the fruit. His every lick, taste, and bite is hungry and promising, while every suck of my lips and swirl of my tongue is a reminder of what I long to do to him.
Reluctantly, he pulls away. “I’m trying to remember what the fuck I was doing five minutes ago. I had a plan. I think.”
I laugh again. “I believe you were going to wash me,” I sign.
He holds up a finger. “Yes. Soap.”
He retrieves one of the formed seashells that smell of jasmine and lavender. Hands lathered, he begins a slow glide of his palms over my shoulders and arms, rubbing deep circles into the muscles with his strong fingers. Again, I soften against him, and he drags his hands to my neck, rubbing long lines up and down my tired tendons and muscles before he rinses me.
Soon, I’m slicking my own palms and washing him too. His stare burns as I work, those eyes so intense as I trace my hands and the warm water over his lovely body.
With his eyes holding mine, I slide my hands over the thick curve of his chest, drag my fingers over his hard nipples and down his abdomen. When I skim a touch along his rigid length, he sucks in a quick breath and kisses me, his lips wet, his tongue consuming.
I stroke him, loving the feel of him in my hand, the silkiness of his skin, the perfect, punishing hardness beneath. His chest begins to heave as I play, and his hand tightens in my hair as I learn what makes him flinch, what makes him sigh, what makes goosebumps rise along his skin. He likes it when I squeeze harder, so I do that, moving my hand faster, dragging my thumb over his sensitive tip.
“Sweet fucking gods,” he murmurs against my mouth, and after two more strokes, he hauls me against him. “Arms around my neck, legs around my waist,” he orders, and I obey.
Gripping my ass, he climbs out of the water with me clinging to him. As we pass the brazier, the fire burning low, he offers a single glance at the dimming flames, and they flare high again at his silent command. Beneath the starry night, he lays me down on the lounging bed. It’s just big enough for us to lie side by side, face to face. I can feel the heat from the brazier on my skin, cooled by the sea wind drifting through the rocks.
Alexus slides one hand beneath my head, then trails the back of the other along my jaw. “I really like being with you.”
I swallow the knot that forms in my throat. “I really like being with you too,” I sign.
He grazes his fingertips down my arm and over my hip. I part my legs for him, and gasp when he touches me. He leans up on his elbow and pushes my legs apart even more, opening me. His little starlights draw near and hover.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, teasing a finger up my center before leaning in to drag his teeth across my throat. With a low growl, he pushes two fingers deep inside me, and everything in me turns molten. “You’re so tight and warm,” he says. “I want to bury my cock inside you and never leave.”
A vibration of desire moves through the rune and air, skittering over my skin, tightening my body in all the right places. Alexus moans and finds that place inside me, that tender spot he manipulates so well, and in seconds I’m panting with need.
Wanting to please him as well, I grip his thick cock and squeeze, slipping my thumb over his already slick head.
He hisses through an inhale and rocks his hips, throbbing against my palm as I stroke him from base to tip. “Just like that,” he whispers, a raw ache in his voice. “Fucking exactly like that. Can you feel what you’re doing to me?”
I nod. I know what pulses beneath his skin. The orgasm and the magick.
Aching, I grind against his fingers. There’s a plea in my mind, one I send over that roiling abyss and let travel through the bond, one I let burn in the rune.
Don’t stop. I need more.
As if I’d signed the words, he thrusts another long finger inside me, filling me to the point that it almost feels like him. He teases my clit with his thumb and lets his magick flow, that torturous pulsing vibration that makes my toes curl.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers. “Tell me what you want. What you need.”
His cock twitches in my hand, and he thrusts harder into my grip, murmuring my name into the night. He kisses me, every stroke of his tongue demanding that my body relent to him, every graze of teeth across my lips destroying me.
He pulls away from the kiss, and the hand that rests beneath my head curls into a tight grip at the roots of my wet hair. Not so gently, he tugs my head back, making me look at him while we touch each other.
“I’m going to come so hard in your beautiful little hand. Is that what you want?”
