A sexy smirk curls the edge of his mouth. “You naughty temptress. That dust is having its way with you, isn’t it?” When I graze my fingertips along the length of his cock, that smirk unfurls. “Give me two minutes.”
Reluctantly, I let go of him. He rolls off the bed and struts across the room to the ewer and basin, then pours a glass of water and tilts it to his lips.
I lie atop the sheets, head propped on a stack of pillows, watching him. He’s so tall, so naked, so glistening with sweat and gold dust. His hair is loose and tousled, hanging in waves just above his broad shoulders. That wide, scarred back—marked with a wheel of runes—tapers to a narrow waist and the tautest, roundest ass I have ever been so blessed to see.
Drunk off him as I am, I still register the coolness of sweat on my skin, the heat of the fire crackling in the hearth, and the carnal glint in Alexus’s eyes as he turns around and pins me with that emerald stare.
He sits back on the massive wooden writing desk and unfolds his long body like an invitation, feet shoulder-width apart. His cock is half-hard, his balls hanging heavy between his legs. He’s lovelier and more enthralling than any man has a right to be.
A thought flashes through my mind as I study him. I’m not against being taken across a desk. In fact, I imagine it, being ridden hard, and it only makes the hunger and ache inside me worse. My body responds, tightening, wanting something to clench. Wantinghim.
I bite down on my lip, trying to stave off my desire, but it’s no use. The Fever Lilac has me locked in this sex-addled state, and even if it didn’t, I’m too addicted to Alexus Thibault to let this moment pass.
With one brow cocked mischievously, he lifts the glass in my direction. “Want some?”
The innuendo in his sultry voice is clear, and suddenly, I’m parched.
In answer, I crawl off the bed. For those first few steps, the muscles in my legs tremor, and I worry they might not hold me long enough to carry me across the room.
But Alexus’s cock twitches against his inner thigh, and his gaze flares at the sight of me, and before I know it, I’m standing between his knees, taking long swigs from the glass as he rests his hands on my hips, kisses my shoulder, and waits with the calm patience only a three-hundred-year-old man can possess.
When I finish, I set the glass on the basin table and thread my fingers into his hair. We share a lingering look, one that speaks a thousand words without any utterance.I love you,it says.I need you. Take me. Break me. Mold me. Fuck me.
I kiss him, relishing the taste of his sweet mouth, sliding my tongue over lush lips, slick and cool from the fresh water. Greedy, I reach down and stroke him, deepening our kiss as he draws me ever closer, those strong hands holding my waist.
How I love the feel of him. That smooth sheath covering all that rigid delight. That firm head, and the tiny pearl of longing that always greets me. It takes mere seconds before he’s hard as the stone beneath our feet.
If I had any modesty before, any propriety, it’s now gone, because I can’t stop imagining him standing behind me, pushing into me until I can’t think around the pleasure.
And so I break our kiss, and in brazen fashion, step to his left, where the top of the desk is clear, and drape myself across it. I spread my legs wide enough to give him quite the view and all the access he needs.
I turn my head to look at him, my fevered cheek pressed against the cool wood. His eyes are bright with love and lust in the firelight.
Turning toward me, he runs a rough hand along the curve of my back and down my ass, cupping my bottom. “This is a braver move than you realize. Have you any notion what it does to me to see you like this?”
I rise on my elbows and shake my head.“Show me,”I sign.
As though that command is all that’s needed to spur him into action, he stands. I expect him to nestle himself between my legs and begin, but that isn’t what happens.
He lifts my right leg, placing my knee on the desk, opening me more fully. Then he kneels, sliding one hand over my hip and down my thigh while the other rests atop my raised leg, gently holding it in place.
“Fucking perfect,” I feel him murmur, his breath warm against my skin. “Arch your back for me. Let me see all of you.”
The second I obey, a low growl rumbles from his chest.
He tongues my clit and sucks it into his mouth, alternating between that and biting my lips, devouring me from behind, much the way he did our first night at Winterhold. I’d been taken so off guard that night, having the Witch Collector feasting on me in such an erotic manner, to have my body open and vulnerable when it had never been so boldly explored before. It scared me that I loved it as much as I did, and that I wanted so much more from him.
When pleasure crested and I’d tried to crawl away, Alexus had dragged me back to his mouth and continued his assault, ultimately knowing that my true desire didn’t match my physical reaction. I’d needed relief and wasn’t sure how to endure the journey to get it, other than to escape it all together.
But I didn’t fight him. It wasthatact, the act of yielding all to a man I trusted with my very life, that heightened each moment forward. The feeling of relinquishing control to someone who could show me what bliss truly is. I almost came from that alone. From that tiny bit of domination.
Tonight is no less consuming or startling. He’s been inside me. Released inside me.
And he doesn’t care.
I am the only thing he needs. The only thing that will satiate this blinding hunger. There are no boundaries tonight because the Fever Lilac has obliterated them all. Pleasure is everything, and the love and trust between us is overwhelming. There isn’t a part of me that isn’t his, no part of me that doesn’t want to please him.
I grip the edge of the desk and move along his tongue as he feasts and groans into my damp flesh.
