“Come on. Let’s go have some fun.”
The momenthe closes the creaky garden gate, Alexus sweeps me into his arms and carries me down the flagstone path toward the lighthouse. Only he veers left, taking us through a labyrinth of tall hedges into a nook at the garden’s edge where the last of the sun’s dying rays barely linger. The space is filled with the beginning shadows of nightfall, the briny scent of sea and sand, and the aroma of winter jasmine that grows in a thick, white blanket over the stone wall.
There, beneath the setting sun and rising moon, with waves crashing against the rocks below, Alexus sets me on my feet, tosses my shoes aside on the grass, and presses me against the fragrant blooms. I cling to his strong arms as he kisses me deeply, licking into my mouth, hungrily exploring. His hands are firm and warm on my waist, his grasp sure as he draws me flush against him. He’s already so hard that the pressure of his desire makes my heart skip a beat.
“I hope you aren’t as tired as you claimed.” He traces the shell of my ear with his tongue. “Because it’s going to be a very long and eventful night if I have anything to say about it.” He holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger and peers into my eyes. “I’m going to make you come on my cock in every position imaginable, Raina Bloodgood. Starting now.”
There’s no other warning for the delicious warmth of his power as it skims a teasing touch along our bond. I simply feel that familiar sensation, the air sparking alive with electricity, tickling my skin. My body is buzzing from the wine, so I reach for Alexus's threads with my mind, ready to draw his power into me like our night at Winterhold.
“Stop that, you little rebel.” A quiet, deep laugh resonates from his throat as he smacks my ass, making me gasp and arch into him. “I told you. Tonight, it'smyturn.” He grips me tight, kneading my flesh as he presses his erection against me again. “Close your eyes,” he whispers, “and let me have my way with you.”
An insuppressible smile spreads across my mouth, and as though he holds some spell over me, my eyes flutter shut. Before, at Winterhold, I hadn’t known what I was doing when it came to tangling our magick, and Alexus’s power had been so weak that he’d had no other choice but to let me lead us. And yet, every moment had been divine regardless.
This time, there’s no searching for threads at all. No clinging to them with my mind. No novice at the helm, unsure what to look for, unsure what to do. This time, behind my eyelids, the threads of Alexus Thibault's magick shine, limned with golden light, already vining along our bond at a ravenous pace.
My heart beats faster with anticipation, every twist and weave heating my already burning blood. I cannot imagine what it will be like with him in complete control, his power so much stronger now than it was before. How can we bond any closer than what this night holds for us? Bonded not only in body but also through the rune, through the tangling of our magickal threads, and through the sharing of power.
We will be one.
No sooner does that thought travel across my mind, than Alexus’s power branches through me. A wave of stunning energy rolls over my skin, setting every nerve ending in my body on fire. That power intertwines with my own magick, sending a trickle of pleasure straight to my core.
“Breathe,” he commands, smiling against my mouth.
Obediently, I suck in a deep drink of night air saturated with the honeyed taste of his ancient magick. “Now lift your dress” he says, his voice rough with desire. “And spread those beautiful legs for me.”
At his words, my heart thunders with longing, but I hesitate.
“Harmon? The boys?”I sign. They live in the garden house.
“Busy at the stables because I asked them to be,” Alexus replies. “I want to lick you and fuck you under the stars if you’ll let me. I want you to think of me every single time you walk through a garden or hear the ocean or smell jasmine or feel a godsdamn night breeze on your bare skin. I want tonight to be something you can’t possibly ever forget.”
That sends a flash of lust through my body that is so desperate I gather my dress around my hips in a hurry and spread my legs.
As I stand there, waiting, I realize that he hasn’t asked me how I want him yet. Hard and rough or deep and slow. I don’t think it’s up for debate tonight. He means to give me everything.
With that hungry look in his eyes, he lowers to one knee and slides his hands up the curves of my thighs. Even that simple touch sends another bolt of pleasure zinging through me.
For a moment, he angles his head in a curious tilt. Then he brushes his fingertips back and forth between my legs. It’s hard to focus on anything but the white-hot need raging inside me, but when a deep and seductive sound rumbles in the back of Alexus’s throat—something torn between a moan and a growl—I blink away the haze of lust and look down at him.
He’s seen the lace.
With a lick of his lips, he meets my stare. His green eyes are bright as sea glass held to the light of a high-summer sun—and filled with hunger. He strokes the delicate material again, and I flinch at the tempting contact.
“I want you in nothing but this and the necklace,” he says, something dark and wild hovering at the edge of his voice.
It takes a matter of seconds before my sash is untied and my gown is gone, reduced to a puddle at my feet. As I stand before him, naked save for the scraps of red lace Yazmin calls undergarments, ready to make love against this stone wall if I must, another sound leaves Alexus.
It’s a sound borne of appreciation and desire, escaping his lips as he admires my bare skin.
He reaches up and brushes his thumb across my nipple. The dark pink flesh is hard and peeking through the lace. The sensation of that touch is tenfold what it would be without our power joined along the bond, making me quiver. I can hardly bear it, yet at the same time, I must have more.
The leather tie holding his hair falls away as I slide my hands into his dark locks and clutch him to my breast. In response, he flicks his tongue over the tip, teasing and biting to the brink of pain, the way he knows I like.
I still can’t wrap my mind around how well he knows me. How well he’s known me since that first night at Winterhold. I never have to instruct or guide him. He just knows how to touch me, how to take me, how to please me.
I hold him tighter, fisting my hands at the roots of his hair until I’m panting. The action seems to drive him because he grips my waist and his mouth becomes hungrier, his touch rougher, and I find myself questioning what the tangling of our power does to him. Is he close to exploding like me?
Unexpectedly, he yanks at the lace garment covering my chest, ripping the flimsy top from its silken straps, and throws it aside. I suppose that answers my question.
