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My nipples have never been sensitive, at least when I touched them. They, like the rest of my body, seemed to be waiting for Marrok. Every inch of my skin feels blessedly alive.
He inhales my nipple as he grips my hips savagely and presses against me in a purely sexual rhythm. It makes me impatient to lose his jeans and my underwear. I’ve never hated fabric so much.
Desperate now, I drag my fingers through his hair and tug his mouth to mine. He lays a frenzied kiss on my lips and grinds against my clit. There’s no air between us. No distance. I have no beginning, and he has no end.
I love it.
Dizziness spins my world. Fire and euphoria charge my veins. Marrok kisses me like he’s dying for me.
It’s mutual.
“Mine.” His breath rasps hot on my neck.
Desire pitches in my stomach. Vertigo overcomes me. If I wasn’t already on my back, the dizzy sensation swamping me would knock me on my ass. “Yes.”
The connection between us locks into place. I don’t understand why.
But it’s undeniable.
“Yield to me,” he demands. “Spread your legs and let me fuck you.”
“Yes.”
The second I consent, he yanks at my skirt, forcing it down my hips. I kick away the garment.
It’s barely cleared my legs when he grips my panties in his enormous fists. They shred in his hands, and he tosses the scraps to the floor. He doesn’t give me an instant to think before he shoves my thighs wide and thrusts two fingers deep.
A prickle of hot pleasure-pain zips down my senses. “Marrok!”
“I dreamt of you,” he growls, his stare eating up my body. “I dreamt of you naked, and I craved you. But this…seeing you now…”
He thumbs my clit as his fingers burn and stretch me. My body seizes with pleasure. I surrender, not even trying to stay sane as he makes my world spin.
“This cunt,” he whispers against my breast before he tongues my tender nipple again. “’Tis not merely touching it I wish to do. I will touch it until you writhe for me. I will consume it until you cry my name. I will fuck it until you scream out who you belong to.”
Him. No one but him.
The small circles he rubs into my needy clit have me whimpering, arching, and spreading myself wider—anything to please him. Anything to end my torment.
The euphoria his fingers lavish on me drowns my thoughts. Pleasure buzzes under my skin. My heart beats with pure, heated need. I chant his name.
“Aye. Mine…” he encourages.
Words I don’t know and don’t understand begin to echo in my brain. The phrases sound random and odd as they zoom through my fevered thoughts. At first a whisper, they grow louder and louder as Marrok drives me closer to orgasm with every thrum of my heart.
“Come for me.”
I can’t resist. I can’t stop it.
Perspiration films my skin. My craving for him swells. Blood pools and boils. Then climax soars into a sweltering bliss as I explode, ecstasy tearing through me like nothing I’ve ever felt. I scream, clutching Marrok as if he alone matters.
As if, from this moment on, I have ceased to be alone in this world.
While I come down from my high, he curses and tears at his jeans, shoving them down and off. He looms above me naked, tall and powerful as a god, packing power everywhere.
The unfamiliar words swirling in my head suddenly take shape. Old-fashioned. Ritualistic. An instinct I don’t understand forces me to offer him my hand. He clasps it, our gazes connecting. Marrok falls to the bed, covering me again, settling between my thighs.
“Become a part of me, as I become a part of you,” I whisper.
