His other hand reaches around, his touch finding my clit and moving against it, and then I’m rocking against him, an impulse to move that sweeps me up into a storm of sensations.
I push against the table and into him as dark light flares around us and his power strikes through me, a flood of heat reaching my heart and my mind.
It feels like a closing loop, a completion that I desperately need.
Abandoning every other thought, I take the pleasure he’s giving me, accepting the stroke of his hand against my clit and the push of his finger within me and the wild ache that’s building to a crash that brings a scream to my lips.
It’s a wild, needy cry. Because the crashing sensation only grows stronger, building until I’m ramming myself against him, pushing so hard against the table that it grinds across the floor.
The tiles beneath it tear apart, but I don’t care that I’m ripping them up. Or the table, for that matter, when my claws extend and I ram them into the wooden surface to anchor myself as hard as I can.
Through my pleasure, the tension in the keeper’s body strikes me, even though he’s behind me and I can’t see his face.
His soft curse reaches me beneath my moans.
“Fuck.”
I can barely form intelligible sound as I rock wildly against him. “Come with me.”
He doesn’t argue. His hand leaves my clit. I’m aware of the sudden nakedness of his skin pressing against the back of my thigh, the absence of that material boundary, but he doesn’t take his finger from within me, and I know he won’t step over the line I’ve put in place.
He pulls my thighs together, his hard length grinding between them, matching every thrust with his finger.
Finally, I let go.
A release that drags me into beautiful, screaming darkness.
Wave after wave, it’s like pure, endless night. A peace I didn’t think I could feel.
Somewhere in the middle of it, I’m aware of the keeper’s groan, his deep shudder, and the increasing slickness between my legs.
I ride the night within my mind, the darkness within my body, until it fades, little by little, the beautiful completion slipping away from me.
I’m not afraid to leave it behind.
What’s waiting for me is worth coming back to.
I return to myself with a satisfied groan on my lips.
Oh, what a glorious mess we’ve made.
The table has torn through the mats. My claws cut and scratched the wooden surface. And there’s a wet patch on the floor between my knees.
But it’s the keeper I need to see right now.
I’m turning even as he’s pulling me around to face him. I catch the flash of his dark-blue eyes before he clasps me up against his chest.
At some point, he must have shifted back into his darkest persona. The angry one. Maybe it was when he cursed. Maybe earlier or later. It doesn’t matter as he lays us down on the floor—the undamaged section behind him.
Whatever grassy-scented material the mats are made of, they’re soft. Lying on them feels faintly prickly but oddly comfortable.
Resting my head against the keeper’s shoulder and nestling into his side, I quietly hook one leg across his hips, a possessive move.
But as I settle against him, he rubs his chest, and I lift my head to reach across and press my palm to his heart. “Hurting?”
I’m uncertain why he would be feeling pain since I’m certainly not hurting right now.
He shakes his head, his dark hair splaying across the floor.
