“Needy thing, aren’t you?” he murmured.
The darkness was so intense, every other sense was heightened. Every breath felt like fire as it skittered across my skin.
“Only for you,” I said, shivering at the intensity. “Always for you.”
Arran’s beast rewarded me with a low growl that filled up my being nearly as full as if Arran’s cock was buried inside of me.
The hand that was not teasing my waistband cupped my chin, thick fingers splayed out across my throat. “You truly are at my mercy,” he said, so low it was nearly a growl.
Desire, liquid and hot, pooled between my legs. The cave was steadily filling with the scent of desire. I whimpered—every bit as needy as he’d said—as he slid his fingers back into my hair and lowered his mouth to replace where his palm had been.
Such long, languorous swipes of his tongue—along the line of my jaw, over the pulse hammering in my throat. He paused, sucking hard enough that I knew there would be a mark. I thrust into his hand again, using my uninjured leg to press myself up, to do something to ease that painful, building ache.
I could not get myself close enough, and he knew it. I wanted control, to at least drive the direction of this. But I was stuck there, back against the wall of the ice cave, legs straight out in front of me. I could turn, I could reach for him, but Arran was in charge.
Fuck that.
“Put my cloak down on the ground. Lay with me,” I moaned as his lips reached the bottom of my ear, teeth closing around the earlobe.
Arran caught his canine against the amorite stud, dragging it over the tender skin with such precision while his hand drew infernal circles on that tiny sliver of exposed skin.
“Not yet,” he said into my ear, before sliding his tongue rapidly up the shell to the pointed tip.
I whimpered again. I was a mess. A needy mess, emotional and physically injured and—
“I can practically hear the tempest in your mind,” Arran said against the nape of my neck this time. “Am I not doing a good enough job distracting you?”
“Arran,” I said, not bothering to hide the desperation in my voice. “I need you, naked against me. I need your mouth everywhere. I need your cock buried inside of me until I am so full, I think I will burst, and then I need you to fuck me until we are both screaming loud enough to bring this ice cave down around us.”
He froze.
Tongue on precise point of the curve where my neck became my shoulder, tunic shoved out of the way to make room for his mouth, fingers curled under the rigid lower edge of my bustier.
“Veyka,” he said hoarsely. “Are you trying to kill me?”
I laughed, which scraped my nipples against the tight constraints of my bustier, and the laugh turned to a moan. “Maybe,” I admitted through my teeth.
Arran sucked in a breath, his mouth so close to my skin it felt as if he was trying to sustain himself onme, rather than the thick air around us.
“Hold still,” he ordered.
I revolted against that command immediately when he drew his hands away from me. I tried to grab them back, but he caught my wrists deftly, even in the dark. Our bodies in sync, as always, even when nothing else about us was.
“I saidhold still,” he growled. It was not the male that spoke, but the beast. I could tell by the way the command reverberated through my body, my soul bowing instinctively while heat raced through me, unrestrained.
No. I cannot. I need to touch you—the growl rose up again, fierce and menacing.
I stilled, my struggles against his grip halting instantly.
Good girl, his beast growled. My pussy was drenched. But I did not move as Arran carefully released my wrists, waiting several heartbeats to see what I would do. I lowered them to my lap and kept them there.
His hands went to my throat again, fingertips skating over the hollow of my throat. But then they went to the knot that held my cloak in place. Released it with deft, practiced ease. It took all of my restraint to keep myself still as Arran’s hands skimmed my breasts through the wool tunic, down to the hem, catching the linen undershirt as well and drawing them up over my head.
I had to shift my head to the side, shimmy my body to help him get them off. A low warning growl.
I paused with my hands over head. Let him see my breasts curving, straining against the bustier. Even Arran’s legendary control would falter. He adored my breasts.
But it was dark. So fucking dark, he could not see them.
