“Fucking perfect,” he purrs.
His fingers slide into me again, two this time, pressing deep, working me open with unhurried precision. He’s watching me, I can feel it, and the thought of his gaze locked on my pussy makes me wetter.
“You’re soaking for me,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up my spine, teeth grazing the sensitive spot at my nape.
“You want my cock, don’t you?” His fingers curl inside me, hitting that devastating spot again, and I gasp, nodding frantically.
He stills.
“Use your words, Duskae,” he demands.
I whimper, rolling my hips against his hand, desperate for more friction, more of him.
“I want your cock, Kael. I need it. Please?—”
He lets out a low, vicious groan. “Beg me again.”
He withdraws his fingers, leaving me empty, aching.
“Kael,” I gasp, turning my head to look at him over my shoulder. “I need you.Now.”
His restraint snaps. Quickly removing his pants, and leaving his vest in place, urgent, hungry for me.
Kael stands before me, his cock hard, dripping with moisture already, broad shoulders rising and falling with measured breaths.
I swallow thickly at the enormous sight of him. I rise onto my knees, my hands move to his leathers, fingers skimming the edges ofhis vest, ready to strip him bare. But before I can pull the ties loose, he catches my wrists, stilling me.
There’s a shadow in his eyes when he catches my wrists. A ripple of something unspoken, something caged. But he buries it, and I let him.
His breath is heavy. Controlled. Too controlled.
“Not now,” he murmurs, his grip firm but gentle.
I blink up at him, my lips parting—but there’s something in his stance, something fleeting in his eyes. A hesitation. A line he won’t let me cross.
His thumb brushes over my pulse. A silent plea.A distraction.
“I want to focus onyou.” His voice is pure certainty, but something in my chest tightens.
My stomach clenches, but I let it go. Because right now, I don’t care.
“Then do it,” I say with conviction.
Kael growls low in his throat—and then he’s kissing me deep enough to wipe out every last thought. He pulls back for a moment, drinking me in, and for the life of me, I can’t help but do the same.
I should be moving. I should be reaching for him, pulling him down to me.
ButI can’t.
My gaze drags over the deep cut of muscle along his hips, the trail of dark hair leading lower.Stars help me. Every part of him is carved from war, from battle, from years of training.
And every part of him ismine.
Heat coils low in my stomach. My mouth goes dry. My pulse thrums in my ears, a traitorous, unrelenting drumbeat.
He watches me watching him. A smirk edges the corner of his mouth, dark and knowing.
“You like what you see, Duskae?” His voice is hoarse, like he’s barely holding himself together.
