Page 66 of Dagger’s Shield

“Because that’s mine.”

The sound she made was different from any I’d heard from her. It made my cock so hard I feared my trousers might rip.

“Are you about to come, Maëlle?”

“No…I don’t know.”

“Do not stop touching yourself. Close your eyes, and tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“Your mouth.” Her hips writhed. “Your hands. This morning in the kitchen, when you reached over me. I wanted⁠—”

“Wanted what? Use your words,” I said.

“You to take me on the counter.”

“What did you want me to do to you?” I pressed.

“I wanted you…”

“What, mon feu? Tell me all of it.”

“I wanted you to fuck me,” she said.

“Good girl.”

The lights of the village appeared ahead of us. In a few minutes, we’d be at the cottage. Maëlle’s head was tipped against the seat, and her breathing became ragged.

“Killian, I’m close⁠—”

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Move your hands away and fasten your coat.”

She swore at me in French for a full minute, bâtard being the kindest of it.

The cottage was cold and dark when we went inside. She turned toward me the moment the door shut, and I stepped around her and knelt at the hearth.

“Killian, I swear⁠—”

“The fire first. You’ll want it later, and I won’t be stopping to tend it.”

Once the flames were high, I spread the duvet and pillows in front of it. When I turned around, Maëlle’s coat was already on the floor, and she stood watching me, wearing only her pink chemise. The firelight’s glow made everything in the room appear almost surreal. As though I was once again dreaming and, at any moment, I’d wake and be utterly devastated that this wasn’t real.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“Get used to it. You’re mine, which means I can look as much as I want at whatever I want.”

I toed off my boots, crossed to her, and took her mouth with mine. Her lips parted, and I snaked my tongue around hers. She was soft and perfect, and took as much as she gave. It was the most erotic kiss I’d ever experienced, and I wanted it to go on forever.

Maëlle had other ideas, and I couldn’t blame her. She lifted my shirt over my head, dropped it on the floor, then ran her hands over my chest and shoulders. Her finger traced the line of hair below my navel down to my belt.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, and I called you names and pushed you away instead,” she said.

“You can keep calling me names. Just don’t stop what you’re doing.”

She didn’t. She unfastened my trousers and removed the rest of my clothes until I stood before her, wearing only my boxer briefs. She stepped away and studied me. She looked me over slowly and deliberately, the same way I’d looked at her.