He goes still beneath me. “What?"
Tears blur my vision. "It's me. Rhianelle."
A shuddering breath escapes from me. I can't hold it back anymore. A sob tears from my throat. My shoulders shake as I cling to him, tears spilling hot and fast against his skin.
I can feelthe moment stretching thin, ready to snap. I force myself to lift my head.
Svenn studies me in silence.He reaches up to cup my face. His brow furrows slightly, eyes searching mine for answers.
"Of course it's you,"he breathes softly. "Who else would it be?"
My breath catches, suspended somewhere between my lungs and my throat. I lift the mask with shaking hands.
"You knew?"The word barely makes it past my lips.
"Little fawn."His thumb traces my lips. “Did you really think a fae trinket could hide you from me?"
"But how—"
A tendril of shadow slides away from my earring and returns to him.
"I tagged you," he admits, something like shame crossing his face. "To keep you safe."
"You let me think you didn't know?" I push at his chest.
He catches the mask from my fingers and tosses it lightly onto the chaise. "Bas and Vlad have done this sort of play with their women sometimes. I thought perhaps you wanted something different."
"A game?"I can't keep the disbelief out of my voice. "You thought we were playing?"
His expression turns serious. "We still are."
His grip on my waist tightens and he pulls me down in one motion, impaling me without mercy until I've swallowed every inch of him.
My head falls back in a gasp of unbridled pleasure. My back arches.
"Breathe, sweetheart. Don't pass out on me yet."
The feeling of having him inside me is so intense I could cry.
He groans.
He cups my breast, taking the tip in his mouth. He sucks gently, flicking his tongue over the soft bud.
I try to move, to ride him, but I'm too overwhelmed. My hips shake involuntarily, trembling with the effort. The sensation is too much, too intense. I can barely manage more than small, stuttering movements.
"Come on," he encourages, his voice rough with need. "Take what you want."
I whimper, trying again, but my body won't cooperate. The pleasure has turned my muscles to water. His hands steady my hips, guiding me gently until I find a rhythm. Slow at first, testing. Then faster as confidence builds and the pleasure sharpens. My hips shake involuntarily, chasing the release that will destroy me. I ride him while he watches me with dark eyes.
"That's my girl," he mutters.
I can feel it in the tension of his muscles, the way his grip stays just this side of gentle when I know he wants to claim me harder.
That won't do.
I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest, and squeeze my thighs around him deliberately. The angle shifts and I watch his reaction with satisfaction.
He makes a husky noise, his features growing taut. His jaw clenches. His fingers dig into my hips.
