Page 85 of Woods of the Raven

My moan had him smiling against my mouth. “I want you so bad, and I want to come inside you, not in your mouth.”

“Yes. Yes, do that. Please.”

His husky laughter, not at me, but with me, just as eager as I was, made me smile. Never had I been in bed with anyone and known this kind of ease and trust and hope.

I heard a cap open. “You brought lube with you.”

“I’m always prepared,” he said, trying for serious, but grinning instead before he bit his bottom lip and stroked two fingers into my body. “And I want you ready for me.”

I was going to tell him I was more than ready, and willing, but he yanked me back down, wanting my mouth, kissing me breathless, letting me feel his desire.

It felt so good, the slow build, his tongue rubbing over mine as he pressed deep with his fingers, then retreated, adding a third, the endless push and pull making me writhe over him,

“Xander,” he murmured, turning his head a fraction to break the kiss and suck air into his lungs before easing his fingers from my channel, the muscles clenching around him, trying to keep him inside. “Don’t be afraid. I’m going to keep you.”

I met his gaze just as I felt the press of his wide head at my entrance.

“Actually,” he whispered, taking hold of my hips, keeping me in place, “what I meant to say was please.”

I wanted more and so slowly sank over him, taking him inside my body in trembling increments, the stretch painful as he filled me but succumbing fast to ache and then yearning.

“Please, Xan, let me have you, let me keep you. I’ll take good care of your heart, your body, and your home.”

That fast, again, I could feel my power rise, blood, flesh, bone, all of it in alignment, all of me wanting, needing to have the same thing—the man beneath me.

“I’m not afraid,” he promised as my muscles stopped resisting and he slid home.

I wasn’t breathing, but that didn’t matter. I was impaled on his cock, all of him buried to his balls as I sat there with my ass plastered to his groin, straddling his hips. He grabbed hold of my thighs, yanking me forward, plunging that much deeper, and I cried out his name.

“Don’t be scared that I’ll leave you,” he said thickly, his voice full of gravel. “I can’t. You put a spell on me, whether you meant to or not.”

I couldn’t argue, couldn’t speak. There was only him easing me, in fractions of languid movement, off his cock and then rolling me to my stomach, facedown in the blankets, before he lifted me to my hands and knees, kissing over my spine.

“Lorne,” I growled the demand and he was there, pushing back inside and I was chanting his name.

“So tight, so hot,” he said under his breath, pressing in deep and then sliding back, not out, never out, enough to open me up, making me shiver with all the sensations, that line all blurred between pleasure and pain. “You feel so good.”

I wanted to return the sentiment, but there was only his thrust then, the quick buck against me that made me gasp. When my arms gave out, he gripped my hips like a vise, holding me up as the pounding began. He took complete possession, driving to my core, and I was shivering as I felt the connection open between us, could feel his heart like it was in my own chest.

“I want you,” he said, taking hold of my hair and pulling. It wasn’t hard, and it didn’t hurt; instead, with how insistent he was that he wanted me on my hands and knees, it made me beg for more of him, needing him deeper, wanting him to move faster, make me his.

“Already done,” he promised, turned my head, and ground his mouth over mine, sucking on my tongue as he moved inside me, finally letting me breathe as his hand wrapped in my hair, using it like a leash he pulled taut, curving my spine, lifting my ass, hammering inside. “You’re mine now.”

The rutting undid me, made me shameless, and I howled his name, as he heaved over me, feeling the strain of having my orgasm just there, out of reach.

“You need to come!” he roared, and being so completely under his control, him showing me his strength and caring, his heart there for the taking, and giving me what I needed and craved, sent me hurtling over the edge.

For a moment, I felt like something was severed in me, something broke and I was floating free, cut off from who I was. It was terrifying because it seemed like everything was out of my control. What could I be expected to fix or keep safe? How could that ever work?

But then…but then…he was there. All around me. There was the beating of his heart, his woodsy, musky, earthy scent, the warmth of his silky skin, and then his mouth open on my back, kissing and licking, and it was as though everything I was, everything I was connected to that was chaotic and crazy, my land, the battle being waged, me being a guardian, all folded down from being enormous and out of control and insane…to simply us. Him and me. The two of us being all that mattered.

He came hard, his orgasm seconds behind mine, and there was warmth inside me, and I was held tight as his body shuddered.

I was going to say something glib, give him his out, let him go even though I’d felt everything lock into place for me. But it wasn’t fair that just because all that I was had chosen him, that he had to live with the consequences of what I was sure he thought was simply taking me to bed.

The aftershocks were rippling through me, his cum was seeping from my body, and I didn’t want him out of me or off me, but still, finding my voice, I said, “You should—”

“Stop. There’s nothing I should be doing but lying here with you,” he rumbled, easing gently from my body only to roll me into his arms and hold me to his wildly beating heart. “Don’t think for me, Xan. It’s not necessary. I have my own mind just for that reason.”