A moan escapes my lips at the immediate pleasure that spreads through my core like wildfire.
“Mmm, you like that, El?” he asks between licks with his wicked tongue.
But I don’t answer with my words, I only grind my hips, pushing back into his mouth, chasing the escape it offers.
Andthatis answer enough, because he responds to the movement. His pace increases as he explores me, tastes me, builds pleasure in ways I didn’t know existed.
Time unspools. There is no castle, no prophecy, no war—only heat and breath and the obscene, wet sounds of him worshipping me. My fingers curl in the furs, desperate for something to anchor me, but even that slips as my body loosens, unmoors. For once, the roar in my head quiets, drowned out by the tide of pleasure he drags from me with every stroke of his tongue. The world narrows to the scrape of his stubble against my skin and the molten pull low in my belly. Each drag of his tongue steals another breath, another thought, until I’m nothing but nerve endings and need.
And when he groans into me, the vibration shreds what’s left of my sanity—raw, hungry sounds that tell me he’s as ruined by this as I am.
He holds me open with strong hands, as if the very act of tasting me is a privilege he intends to worship until I break.
And escape takes me.
I’m floating, drifting, swimming in the pleasure.
My eyes close, and the world around me fades to nothing but a blur of erotic ecstasy.
Rhythmic moans hum from my throat, and my pleasure builds, approaching a crest that will shatter me.
And I want it.
I need it.
But Kael’s hands grip my hips, almost painfully, ripping me from pleasure and forcing me back into the room. Here. With him.
Everything sharpens into focus.
Kael yanks my hips back, and scoops up my chest so my back is flush against his torso. His powerful hand pulls my chest firmagainst him, and his palm rests against my heart. His lips press hungry, reverent kisses across the sensitive flesh of my neck.
Gods.
It feels like he kissed my soul back into my body—like he gathered every shattered piece of me and breathed them into place.
“Escapeintome, Elyssara. Notawayfrom me. Look at me. Stay here. Use me. Take from me. But don’t run,” he breathes into my ear. “Eyes open, darling.”
I fight the urge to pull out of his grasp. To push him away. To run from this intimacy. From his eyes that beg me to stay.
But the head and the heart rarely agree.
The same hands that could snap bone and spill blood are on me now, tracing my skin like I’m something sacred. There’s a reverence to it. Something holy. And fuck, maybe that’s why I feel safe—because all the ruin these hands could unleash, they bow to me.
I acquiesce.
I exhale a breath, and give him a small nod.
He nuzzles into my hair, nipping at the delicate skin between my neck and shoulder, pressing a string of burning kisses along my skin.
“Stay, El,” he breathes, as he slowly pulls back.
He tugs at the end of my braids, unraveling the leather straps, and unweaving the braids until my hair cascades down my back in waves of auburn and gold.
“Beautiful,” he exhales.
Then, he spins me?—
He spins me so quickly, I don’t register the movement until his eyes are locked on mine in a silent promise.
