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Shadow and Son

Page 82

by Gretchen Powell Fox

She let one of her hands fall from his cheek, sweeping down the line of his jaw, his neck, until her fingertips fell over the mark she’d left on him. The moonlight made it look like it was shimmering, and Elyria’s teeth ached to clamp down on the spot again. To do more than just bite.

To pierce.

She was so fixated on the sight that she barely noticed Cedric shifting to the side, laying his weight on one arm so he could free the other to fist the hem of her nightdress. But when he began dragging it up her body, excruciatingly slowly, exposing her flesh inch by inch . . . That, she noticed.

Cedric’s golden eyes were pinned to her face right up until the moment the hem—and his hand—brushed over the fabric of her undergarment, the front of which was already embarrassingly wet with need. His attention immediately snapped to the area, and the sound that rumbled from his chest at the sight had Elyria clenching her thighs together.

“No,” he grunted, grabbing one of her legs at the knee and throwing it aside like he was throwing open a cupboard door. And then her undergarment was tossed aside too—had he just ripped it off her?—and his fingers were wading through soft curls in search of that little bundle of nerves, that gateway to pleasure, that⁠—

Elyria gasped. Let out a pitiful cry. Arched her back clear off the bed as the pad of Cedric’s finger found her center. Solaris bless those talented fingers, she thought, and she swore Cedric chuckled in response.

“Is this what you wanted?” he breathed, lowering his head back down so that his lips once again grazed the sensitive point of her ear. “What you needed?”

“Yes. No. Yes. Fuck.” Elyria’s head was spinning, sensation shooting through her body from where his fingers were expertly swirling, swirling, swirling. It was everything she wanted and nothing like it at all. Because she wanted this, yes, but she wanted more, too. Wanted all of him—inside her, over her, under her, everywhere at once.

“You sound confused, Trouble,” he murmured. “Perhaps what you need is a little help making up your mind?”

“Asshole,” she breathed, then whimpered again as two of his fingers plunged into her molten core. They curled inside her, stroking her, while his thumb continued making lazy circles and that feeling behind her navel coiled tighter and tighter.

Once again, Elyria must have been lost to sensation, lost to the satisfied grunts coming from Cedric in response to each of her mewls of pleasure as he stroked, and stroked, and stroked. Because she didn’t notice that she’d apparently lost the rest of her nightdress at some point. Didn’t notice until he had already moved several inches down the bed to take one of her peaked pink nipples into his mouth, sucking gently. He repeated the act on her other breast, then returned to the first. And this time, it wasn’t quite so gentle.

Elyria cried out as Cedric’s teeth clamped down, not hard enough to break the skin, not hard enough to mark, but just hard enough to send sparks of pain mixing with her pleasure and⁠—

“Cedric, please,” she cried into his mind. “I’m going to⁠—”

She couldn’t even finish the thought before her orgasm ripped through her body, echoing up and down the bond, and feeling exactly what he was feeling in that moment only amplified it all.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Cedric murmured into her mind. “So fucking perfect and so fucking mine.” She watched him with wide eyes as he leaned back, drew his fingers into his mouth, and cleaned them off with a sweep of his tongue, and it was so erotic that Elyria nearly came again just from the sight of it.

Or maybe that wasn’t her. Pleasure bloomed down the bond threaded between them, Cedric’s body shuddered, and he released the dreamiest little groan.

Elyria’s face curved into a wry smile as she realized what happened. “Did you just . . . ?” It wasn’t really a question. Neither was it a judgment. If anything, it only added to Elyria’s overall satisfaction.

Cedric, to his credit, did not seem fazed in the slightest. “Can you blame me?” he said with a casualness that felt both wildly uncharacteristic and unbelievably sexy. “You taste like—Fuck it all. I couldn’t even begin to describe it. I’ve dreamed about it every night for months, and still my witless mind never did it justice.”

Elyria’s smile morphed into something coy, coquettish. “Well, feel free to remind yourself anytime there. I remain at your leisure.”

“You’re going to regret making that offer, Trouble.”

Elyria could only shrug, exhaustion already sweeping through her as she spun down from her high. Her bones felt loose, rubbery, and she wanted to melt into the mattress. “I highly doubt that, Your Highness,” she said, stifling a yawn. She turned onto her side, watching Cedric as he sat up and drew the blanket up over her cooling, naked body and then got up from the bed.

“Where are you⁠—”

“Just cleaning up,” he said soothingly. “Go back to sleep. I’ll return before you know it.”

“I—” She bit her bottom lip, and he immediately sat back down.

“What is it?”

“What if I dream again?” she admitted.

He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and brushed a featherlight kiss against each one of her knuckles. “Then I will be here when you wake again.”

And the words were so simple, so heartfelt and earnest and true, that when Elyria closed her eyes, with Cedric still holding her hand, she instantly fell asleep.

23

THE WEIGHT OF TWO WORLDS