And again.
Her face flushes that pretty pink again. I can feel her hot breath as she pants, the heave of her chest. Her arousal and mine intermingle until they’re at a fever pitch.
Slowly, Meryn lowers her face to mine, then pauses. Holding back, not crossing the line. I can almosttasteher desire, hot and wild.
Her mouth falls open.
Fuck it.
I’m done denying myself.
I surge up, flipping us over so she’s beneath me, and bring my mouth down to hers.
28
MERYN
Stark kisses like the world is ending and I can be his savior.
It’s worship edged with danger.
His mouth is rough on mine, needy. I can taste his desperation—or maybe it’s my own. I can’t even tell anymore.
I thought if this finally happened, I’d be sated, quenched. But the opposite is happening. The furious pounding of my heart doesn’t quiet. It gets louder, as if he’s just tossed fuel on a fire.
His tongue is in my mouth, and I just need more of it.More.
I pull him against me, mouth and chest and hips. His fingers dig into my skin, and I shiver.
Arching slightly, I bite his lip in a delirious plea. He lets out the same hiss of pain I heard earlier and bites me back hard enough to draw blood.
The iron taste slips over our tongues, oddly euphoric.
The final brittle layer of my anger and pain and shame breaks open, shattering into a million pieces, leaving behind only the burn of desire and want.
“I can’t feel it,” I pant, pulling away from Stark, knowing that I’m notmaking sense. My mind is so muddled between his and my own. I don’t know where he stops and I begin anymore.
He grinds himself against my core, so rigid that I gasp. “This? You can’t feel this?”
He does it again, and I throw my head back against the ground hard enough that it smarts, my entire body lit up with exquisite, torturous sensation.
“S-stop,” I stutter, and he comes to a halt on top of me, frozen.
Through our connection, I sense dismay ricocheting through him. Rejection. I reach up quickly, putting my hand on his stubbled cheek.
“I can’t untangle my own emotions right now,” I tell him quietly. “I want to feel you. Fully. As myself. I’m going to close the connection first. Is that… is that okay?”
I hear my voice through his ears, how it’s tinged with a bit of fear—my own wariness of rejection. Will he still want me without my own hunger inciting him?
“Do it,” he says, and then grinds against me again so I can feel how hard I make him, with or without the way our minds are intertwined. “Quickly.”
With a forceful mental push, I shove him out of my mind. Then I’m back entirely in my own body again.
Alone with my own aching, pulsing need.
And I need to ask him something. “Noemi. Is she… ?”
“Like my sister,” he says, voice gravely. “Nothing more.”
