“I need you,” I say because it’s true. “I need you right now.”
“Fuck,” he moans. “Can you keep quiet?”
“I don’t know.” As hot as it is to think of him taking me just on the other side of the door from everyone else, I don’t want to keep quiet. “I don’t think so.”
“Quinn’s gonna have my ass for this,” he says as he lifts me off of him and sets me down. He leads me back into the living room. “Everyone out. I’ll escort Sylvie to her quarters myself.”
Quinn gives Ronan the most scathing look I’ve ever seen as she does what he says. “When she kills you in your sleep, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. I can’t believe I serve a fucking moron.”
Everyone else leaves without question, but Queen Claudia winks at me as she goes.
I guess that’s where he got it from.
Ronan misses the moment, but I’ll have to tell him about it later. There are more pressing matters at hand.
The moment the door closes, Ronan picks me up, his hands digging into my hips as he shoves me against him, kissing me ferociously.
The last thread of his control snaps.
In all the times we’ve been together since the first, it’s never been like this. It’s feral, animal, the need for each other almost violent. Almost like we know it could be the last time, with a war on the horizon. I cry out a “yes!” as he flings me against the living room wall, his magic healing me before I can feel any pain. The paintings in their frames rattle around us as he kisses me within an inch of my life, his hands roaming savagely over my chest, my waist, my hips, tearing at the fabric there.
This is what I need. I don’t want gentle. I don’t want sweet. I need him to let go and give me the full force of his power, knowing that he would never, ever hurt me. Knowing that I’m safe with him, that he will keep me safe.
I take one of his wild hands and grab it, pulling it to my mouth and holding it over it.
“Fuck,” he says as he realizes what I’m doing. I want him to cover my mouth like Soren did in the alley.
He gives me what I want. He takes his starving kisses away from my covered mouth and moves them to my neck and then my breasts, ripping my shirt open with his other hand.
I moan against his hand as his lips lock around my nipple, sucking so hard it nearly hurts, and then he presses a bite into the sensitive flesh that makes me cry out.
He heals me again, the familiar light from his fingertips so welcome amidst all the new sensations. It feels so good, the pain and then the pleasure. It pulses in my core, soaking me as I grab him with my leg, hitching it around his and yanking him to me so hard he nearly hits his head on the wall behind me.
He grunts as I press against him. He lets go of my mouth and grabs my arms, pinning them over my head to the wall.
“Yes,” I say as he shoves a hand down my pants, the other one still holding my arms in place. He wrenches a kiss from my mouth as he pushes a finger inside my folds.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he moans. “You said you couldn’t be quiet. I want to hear you scream.”
“Please, Ronan,” I beg. “Fill me. Fill me, and I’ll scream for you.”
Ronan shudders at my words, and then he gives me what I asked for. He plunges two of his fingers into me with no resistance, my body so wet and desperate for him that I open to him immediately. He forces his fingers in and out of me wildly, the butt of his wrist against my clit, pressing hard. I tighten my leg around him and grind into him, demanding he take me deeper and harder.
Heat floods my core as he works within me, stroking my walls rhythmically, building me towards my release. “I want you to come on my hand,” he says, his voice strained with desire. “I want you to come on my hand and my face and my tongue and my cock.”
Just the mention of his cock undoes me. My climax shakes my body as I yell out his name, my core tightening so much that I nearly force him from me, but he pushes against me and keeps working inside me until my shaking subsides. I flop against the wall, barely able to stay upright, as he uses his legs and the hold he has on my arms to keep me in place.
“Not loud enough,” he says. “Tell me what you want. What will make you scream?”
I know he can feel it because it reverberates between us. “I need more. I need you inside me. Take me like this, then turn me against the wall and take me from behind.”
And fuck me, he does.
He lets go of my arms to undress himself. I help him yank the tunic over his head, then I fumble with the laces of his breeches until he rips them off. When I see his perfect cock fall out of his pants—rock hard, so red it’s purple, glistening with his arousal—I can’t stop myself from bending forward to take it into my mouth.
I swallow as much of him as I can, which isn’t much because he’s far bigger than my mouth can handle, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Fuck yes,” he moans as he puts his hands in my hair, knotting them there, pulling me to him. “Fuck, you’re so good at that.”
I use my mouth and tongue and hands to please him, feeling his desire for it, slipping a hand down to stroke his balls, which makes him shudder and forces him to lean against the wall to stay upright.
