He laughed, then cupped her breast and dipped his head to swirl his tongue around the pebbled nub, nipping with his sharp canine. The sensation speared straight to her core, dragging a low, keening sound from her that she’d never made before.
He lavished the same attention on her other breast, flicking the tender peak with the tip of his tongue as he continued to thrust between her legs.
Her body alternated between tight and loose, her climax building. Despite the fabric barriers between them, his movements were precise, meticulous—a master at work. He studied her face, her breathing, her moans. Knew exactly when to pull back and tease or push in and increase the pressure, urging her towards an incendiary crescendo.
She couldn’t begin to imagine how he’d feel inside her skin-on-skin, knew it would utterly ruin her for anyone else.
She curved her hand into his hair, fisting the silky strands and hauling his mouth to hers. She needed to taste him, needed his teeth on her lips, needed this moment, this transcendent distraction, to never, ever end.
With taunting swipes, she lured his tongue into her mouth, sucking hard as he teased the impressive length of his cock along the front of her drenched panties.
“Don’t stop,” she moaned into his mouth. “I’m close.”
He grinned against her lips. “I know.”
He placed his hand at her throat and pushed her against the mirror. “Look at me. I need to see your face when I make you come.”
She was dangling at the edge of the precipice, a plateau of pleasure that was almost as good as the inevitable fall that awaited her.
He pinched her nipple and one final, powerful thrust against her clit had her screaming his name as every nerve ending in her body exploded with pulsing, liquid heat.
She’d experienced orgasms before, not only by her own hand, but inside the memories of numerous supplicants, scenes of shuddering cries and quivering limbs. But she had no idea that it could feel like this.
Like the ground had opened up to swallow her into the molten core of the world.
She crashed, limp and sated, against Tristan’s chest, and he rubbed her back as she came to her senses. She panted against his shoulder, wondering what to say, what to do. Should she thank him? Return the favor? She hadn’t planned for this to happen.
But his hands, his mouth, his body were all swiftly becoming addictions she couldn’t deny herself.
He lowered his head and whispered against her hair. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.” She huffed a laugh. “Thank you for letting me do that.”
She pulled back and stared into his hooded eyes, choking back a cresting wave of dangerous emotion. He was so beautiful, so selfless.
He bent down to retrieve her crumpled nightshirt. “But you might want to apologize to our neighbors. You’re awfully loud.”
“You did accept that challenge.” She cocked an eyebrow.
“So I did,” he snickered, tapping her elbows. She lifted her arms, allowing him to drape her shirt down her torso. Once her head popped through, he sucked her lower lip between his teeth.
“I fucking love it. Next challenge is to make you scream even louder.”
She wanted to tangle herself in his limbs again, gave a small sound of protest when he nudged her towards the bed.
“But now it’s time for sleep.”
“What about you?” She gestured to the darkened spot on the front of his pants. Too small to have been a release of his own.
“I owed you from your extraction room.”
“What about the alley?”
“That was all business, remember?” His dimple-revealing half smile made an appearance. “Doesn’t count. Though you arguing with me about getting me off is really fucking hot.”
She glared at him and he sank onto the bed, angling his wings over the side and patting the space beside him.
“We don’t need to keep score, Cass. What’s an orgasm or three between roommates? Or should I say, playmates?”
She nodded. She was sick of fighting it. And with all the fear and grief and uncertainty in their lives right now, surely fate wouldn’t begrudge them a few stolen moments of pleasure. Even if she wasn’t quite ready to cross that final threshold.
