And I’m done. I’m done holding myself back, forcing my feelings into a box and shoving them away. I’m done minimizing what I feel for Asmo, done ignoring the way my heart somehow calms and pulses at the same time when he walks into a room, the way my body sings when he’s near.
I reach for the fastening of his pants, but he grips my wrist, pinning it over my head as he rolls on top of me. His mouth shifts from mine and moves to my ear, his tongue licking and biting down the slope of my neck. My back arches at the feeling. He slides one hand underneath me,bringing me flush against his chest, like he can’t stand to be apart from me.
He lifts my shirt, and the cool kiss of the winter air bites at my skin. But Asmo’s warm hands set every inch of me on fire. His hand cups my breast, thumb flicking over my hardened nipple.
“Mae,” he whispers, and it sounds like a prayer.
I reach for his pants, desperate to feel him inside of me. Desperate to know what he feels like, what it’s like to be one with him. He doesn’t stop me this time. He lifts his hips and helps me pull his pants down. I lift my hips in a silent request for him to remove mine, our tongues still colliding. He throws my pants into the corner of the room.
He breaks away from me and gets on his knees to stare at my center, giving me a full, unobstructed view of him.
He is perfection. His abs ripple down to hips that form a V pointing directly to his…
My mouth dries, while another part of me floods.
His smile at my glistening sex threatens to make me climax. It’s not the animalistic desire in his eyes as he stares at me, it’s the vulnerability of sharing this with him. Of baring everything to him. I lift my hips, yearning to feel him against me. My center brushes against him, and he goes still at the contact.
I can’t take it anymore. I pull him onto the bed and climb on top of him, spreading my legs over his impressive length. He stares up at me with a wicked grin, chest already heaving.
“Mae,” he growls.
When we cross this bridge, is there any going back? Is there any possible way I could never hear my name on his lips again?
I lean down, pressing my chest against his. His hands find my hips and guide them, lining my entrance just over his erection. Slowly, so, so slowly, I lower myself onto his perfect length. Pleasure rolls through me as he fills me. My instincts take over, hips rocking as all my thoughts explode at once.
All I can feel is him, every thought and sensation hyper-focused on that and that alone. Asmo beneath me, inside of me. This male who’s pushed me away and pulled me back, who’s sacrificed everything for me, who’s held me in my darkestmoments.
He groans, eyes closed as I rock against him. He fills every inch of me, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm as one. It feels like we’re two pieces of a puzzle, like the Mother designed us to fit perfectly together.
His hands grip my backside, and my orgasm rips through me like a wave of wildfire. Exactly what I thought it would feel like to give myself to him—burning and uncontrollable. But my wildfire is a part of me, and so is Asmo, in a way. He will always be a part of me, and a part of what made me the person I am today.
So, I give myself up to him, to the uncontrollable, to the burning, and I let it take me.
I smother my moans into his shoulder, biting down as the flames crest. He wraps his arms around my waist, and stifles his own moans into the hollow of my neck. His entire body goes rigid as he explodes into me.
Our breathing fades from a panting frenzy to a calmer rhythm. Sweat slicks between us, but neither of us moves. He holds me with a possessive claim, fingertips digging into my curves. I cling to him, thinking of all the mistakes I’ve ever made, and wondering if this is the biggest one yet.
We lay like that, two hearts beating against each other as one, until sleep takes us both.
Chapter 20
MARIK
I almost—almost—jumpwhen I open the door to Cora’s bedroom. Two cambions stand stationary, one on each side of the open double-doors that lead to the grand balcony. Somehow, their empty eyes follow me as I enter the room.
Cora stands on the balcony, hands resting on the wrought-iron fence overlooking the rose garden. The black aura around her is dim today, but her white silk robe still pops against it. Her inky hair stirs with the breeze, then shifts as she turns toward me. Her eyes are the color of bone and moon and white roses.
“Hello, darling,” she croons. I force myself to reach for her.
She pulls me closer and locks her arms around my waist. She is so small against me. It’s easy to forget about the ancient power that lurks within her. I forget more and more with every passing day. When we first met, I was terrified. Mother and Father stared at her in a way I had never seen before, their worshipping eyes clinging to her. Only something powerful could warrant that look from them. Asmo had begun to earn that look, but not me. Not until I agreed to work with Cora. To kill the High Family.
Her hands find the hem of my shirt, sharp nails dragging upward as she works her hands up my back.
“You called for me?” I ask.
Her nails dig into my spine. Tiny pinpricks of pain give way to blood, and I fight the urge to shove her away from me. I knew my response to her greeting would irritate her, but my patience is thin these days.
“Try again,” she says in the kind of calm that can only be viewed as a threat.
