We’ve proceeded slowly, almost cautiously, but the way I lean forward presses his hard cock against my clit, and I can’t stop my moan.
He’s still dressed in pants, a layer of unwanted material between us, but it doesn’t stop the pleasure from striking through me.
Every feathery brush of his hands has built my anticipation, and I can’t deny the rush of sensation now.
Neither, it seems, can he.
He rears up beneath me, once again into a sitting position, his hold on me becoming firm as he supports my back with one arm, encloses my right breast in his other hand, and closes his mouth around my other nipple.
I gasp at the sudden influx of pleasure, the hot rush ofneedas he strokes and licks my breasts while grinding upward against my core.
I nearly scream at him when he breaks contact.
He growls against my breast, his gray-blue eyes seeking mine. “Talk to me, Caera. I can’t spare any magic to tell me what you want or when you’re ready. You have to tell me.”
I’m torn between wanting more of exactly what he was giving me and needing him fully naked beneath me.
“I want you naked,” I say.
My declaration brings a new heat to his eyes and a smile to his lips. He quickly tips us to my right, rolling us over so that our positions are reversed. At which, he promptly slips to the side of the bed and stands to remove his pants, stepping out of them while facing away from me.
I’m not about to waste the opportunity to explore his body, sliding to the floor behind him, my palms pressing to his back, tracing the shape of the muscles across his shoulders and down his sides.
Every part of him speaks to a rough existence, the kind where wood is hewn by hand, and food is grown or hunted, an existence far simpler, but much harsher, than must exist in the glittering city outside these walls.
For an unwanted second, I see again the cuts and slashes across his body that are tearing him apart. The image of them is so clear that I can’t stop the sob that rises to my lips.
He turns immediately, having made it out of his pants, catching me in his arms.
“Ignore the pain,” he says, a firm command. “Focus only on these moments.”
His lips crash against mine as he gathers me up against him. The way his lips fit mine, the way he claims every part of my mouth, drives my fears from me.
I drop back onto the bed, my legs dangling over the edge of it as I reach for him.
“Like this,” I say. “With you standing.”
Gravity will be easier on me like this. Far easier to take it slow if I need it slow this first time.
I meet the heat in his eyes, the way he takes all of me in with his gaze, before he gathers my legs up around his hips, leaning forward to kiss my breasts and take his time fitting his body to mine.
It’s a slow thrust, drawn out as I brace against him, testing my body by pushing against him until he fills me completely.
Every sensation that spikes through me is intense, but all of it matches my needs. Deep pleasure, needier than I ever expected, radiates from my core, bringing a heady moan to my lips.
He could have been made for me.
I could have been made for him.
I move first, rocking against him, riding the waves of pleasure as he withdraws and thrusts again, slowly at first and then faster. And then again and again.
Intense need builds within me as the rhythm takes over. Power. Pleasure. A pure abandonment of control.
Every stroke takes me higher, but also deeper, like diving into the ocean again, submerging myself beneath the waves and experiencing nothing but an intense desire that drives me on.
Even as it builds, it’s splintering me, cracking apart the already shattered pieces of me, and I know there’s no coming back from this.
No returning to who I was. There is only the ferocity of my moans and the fury of his eyes.
