He’s feeling it too. Carrson bites his lip, staring down at how his fingers wrap around my throat like he’s mesmerized. His hips pump, but his hand stays in between my legs. He flicks my clit with his fingernail, and I practically levitate off the bed.
“Still okay?” he gasps out.
“More,” I say and mean it. A strange warmth has taken over my body. It blankets my mind so that everything blurs as my consciousness focuses where he’s touching me and how he fills me up completely. He brushes his thumb over my clit in hypnotic circles, warmth radiating from there down to where he slides into me. My muscles bunch and tremble, tension rising as his hand squeezes harder. My vision tunnels, turns dark at the periphery, and there it is.
Fear.
Not the kind that makes me pull away like a normal person would. The kind I lean into, that I’ve been chasing ever since Remi died. The thought that he could take it too far, even though he won’t, I know he won’t, but the possibility ofwhat if he does. It’s that danger, that excitement, that pushes me higher, closer to release. A few more thrusts, and everything blurs together, thepressure, the risk, that feeling of balancing on the edge, caught between life and death. They all merge with the feeling he’s giving me. It transforms into pleasure, erotic, and so intense that I come, screaming through a closed throat with my hands shredding down his back, so hard, I think I actually pass out for a minute.
True to his word, Carrson pulls out and slides up my body, straddling me. He puts his cock on my chest and pushes my breasts up against it, one on each side.
“Hold them,” he says gruffly, his eyes wild and his breathing erratic. I press my breasts together, so they squeeze his dick between them. Carrson watches through half-lidded eyes as he slowly and thoroughly fucks them until he comes with a muffled roar, soaking my chest.
Afterward he wipes me down with his shirt, then climbs into bed and repositions me so that my head is on his shoulder. I fling a leg over his waist for good measure. We snuggle closer and sigh.
“We didn’t have to worry about being quiet,” I murmur.
“Good,” he says against my hair. “Because you just about screamed the entire house down.”
I smack his chest. “I did not.”
“You did,” he murmurs, a quiet laugh rumbling under my ear. “And I loved it.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Didn’t sound like that a minute ago.”
I hit him again, but I’m laughing. I prop myself up on an elbow. “What I meant was that there’s hardly anyone on this floor right now. Half the sorority sisters sneak over to Ashford House every night. Even Lou.”
Carrson settles deeper into the pillow, running his hand up and down my back. The steady motion makes my eyelids droop. I sink into his chest.
“Mmm. Keep going,” I murmur. “That feels good.”
His chest lifts in a silent laugh. “I like making you feel good.”
“Works for both of us.” I yawn, eyes closing. My body spent.
“They go to their bonded.”
My eyes flutter open. “Who?”
“The sisters.” His hand moves to my hair, smoothing it down in slow strokes, like he can’tnottouch me. “They go to their bonded men at night.”
“Bonded?” I peer up at him. “You mean the blood oath? The scars on their palms?” I’ve noticed it more lately, not just Lou. Lots of the women have the same mark.
He nods.
“What is that, exactly?” I ask. “Like a marriage?”
“Kinda. We don’t do rings here.” A pause. “We do daggers. Blood.”
I roll my eyes. “Why am I not surprised.” I drop my head back to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.
“Oh!” I half-sit up, grinning. “I forgot to tell you.”
“What?” He looks up at me, a little drowsy, and it almost undoes me.
How good he looks like this, naked in my bed. Relaxed in a way I don’t see often. So different from when I first met him.
