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“I never wanted you to go through that,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “Not much throws me off, but that gutted me, Skylenna.”
I nod against his hands. “I saw.” He was trying to keep it together, but I know he would have carved that orderly’s liver out. He would have fed it to the priest. In fact, I’m certain he was hoping they would challenge him.
His fingers dig into a knot, pressing on it gently. I arch my back, letting out another pained and satisfied moan.
But I did something wrong. Those strong fingers still, pausing midstroke. And he lets out a frustrated sigh. “That’s exactly how you sounded when I had my face between your thighs.”
That’s all it takes. A surge of unleashed desire shoots through my core, causing my breath to hitch, my thighs to flex. His hands leave my shoulders, skating across my collarbone, and ending over the sheet that covers my bare breasts.
My entire body tenses. Because his palms are centered over my hardening nipples, poking his hands in a desperate attempt to get him to stimulate them. He groans quietly as he squeezes, letting his head fall in defeat at the feel of me.
“Fuck,” he grits behind clenched teeth.
“More,” I plead.
The movement of his hands is automatic, as if I’ve said the magic word. But his fingers surprise me. They pinch my nipples, twisting, plucking, making me squirm under the blankets. All of my thoughts and fears scattered like tiny rodents. The ache in my lower belly manifests into something wild, something hungry, something untamable.
Dessin’s pants grow under my head, a steel mountain pulsing.
And he’s up, slipping out from under me, darting to the wall farthest from the bed. He’s mumbling to himself. “I’ll make things worse.”
I sit up on the bed, careful to hold the sheet around my shoulders, my hips.
“I’m already yours,” I tell him, swallowing down that agitated fear of rejection. “I’m yours to touch, taste, and love however you want me.”
And with a calculated sense of purpose, I let the sheet drop to the bed.
And Dessin, with widening eyes and parted lips, gazes at my naked body.
It’s like watching an ocean rev up into a wall, into a tidal wave. Like he’s holding his breath. Like his eyes have returned home from a long journey. And he’s swallowing me whole, taking in my bare legs, stomach, and breasts as if he wants to remember them. As if this may be the one and only time he gets to look at me. In this weak, golden light and cold, empty shadows.
He moves like he’s falling, three hard strides to the bed, arms looping under my knees until his hands reach my hips, and he’s spinning me until my head is lying where the pillow once was.
Here we are again, my legs hanging over his shoulders. But half of my back is on the bed, my lower half is hoisted up at an incline, and his hands are holding me by my ass. My gleaming pink flesh is open for him, just under his chin. Like he’s carrying a meal, waiting to lick his plate clean.
“Dessin,” I whine. Because I don’t care for him to taste me again. I want that growing bulge in his pants. I want to feel him stretch me. Feel him pump inside of me.
He shakes his head. “I need to make you ready for my size, baby.”
I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but he begins lapping me up anyway. Painfully slow licks up and down my center. And it’s cruel. Like a punishment. The wicked wet heat slipping inside of me, bringing my body to tremble like an earthquake.
“Oh,” I gasp.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my throbbing clit. “Open up for me.”
I lose all sense of decency. My hips buck against his face, legs clenching down on his shoulders. He moves his hands to bite down on my hips again, angling my pussy to his mouth exactly where he wants me. He’s sitting upright on his knees, dipping his tongue in and out of me, until I can’t take it any longer.
“I’m ready.” My legs begin to drop from his shoulders. But this man, this alpha, yanks my hips hard back to his mouth. It’s primal. Like an animal being interrupted while it feeds. He’s blacking out at the taste of me, eyes gone dark and foggy and blind with insatiable need. I have never seen anything so sexy.
Like a rubber band, my tension burns between my legs, at the base of my gut, coils tighter, twisting until I’m sure something is going to combust.
I’m grinding against his mouth now, those plush full lips, and Dessin lets out a low sound in the back of his throat, guttural and agonized. It pulls the last ribbon of my hindrance undone. I’m screaming as thundering pleasure washes over me, legs spasming over his back.
One large, powerful hand flattens over my stomach, lowering my bottom half back down to the bed. I’ve transformed from a solid to a liquid, melting across the sheets.
“I want you—I want you to make love to me,” I utter breathlessly.
A hand clenches around my chin, tilting my face up to look him in the eye.
