And then she sees the look on my face.
Sees the way my eyes drag over her, every line, every soaked inch of her skin-tight gown, white fabric sheer now, clinging to her breasts, her curves, her thighs. Her nipples stand tight against the cold, and I feel my cock pulse beneath my leathers, already half undone.
She steps back toward the table, hands bracing on the edge, her breath catching.
“What are you doing?” she asks again, softer now, but not uncertain.
I say nothing.
Rain slicks over my skin as I rip my shirt open, the soaked fabric tearing under my hands. The runes across my chest flare bright, light carving over hard muscle, tracing the ridges of my abdomen. Water slides between each line, gathering at the sharp dip of my hips, where the deep V cuts down toward the buckle I shove open. I fling the belt aside. Her gaze follows, hungry, drawn to the strength in my stomach, the carved hollows that frame every breath. Power thrums beneath my skin, runes burning hot, alive, pulsing with restrained fire. Then I see it, her rune, glowing softly at her throat, alive with heat and want. It calls to mine. It calls to me.
Her pulse jumps beneath the skin. That perfect throat. A vein begging for teeth.
I close the space between us in a single step, her breath hitching as I loom over her. She’s trembling, part fury, part anticipation. Her scent hits me like a punch to the gut, sweet and wild and storm-sharpened, and I don’t even try to fight it.
“Say something!” she yells, hair dripping into her mouth, eyes alight. “Daedalus, answer me!”
I grip the edge of the table behind her, caging her between my arms, my body pressing hers, my lips brushing her ear.
“I know I have a lifetime of wrongs to make up for,” I rasp, voice barely a whisper above the storm. “And I swear to every god still watching that I will earn your forgiveness.”
My hand slips down, anchoring her hips to mine. She gasps, arching.
“I will worship you as my queen.”
Her nails bite into my shoulders.
“But right now?” I growl, mouth grazing the shell of her ear. “Right now, I need to fuck my wife.”
She trembles beneath me, her chest heaving. Her glare hasn’t dulled, but her breath has changed, faster now, sharper. Anticipation and fury colliding in her eyes.
But then she lunges for me, her mouth crashing against mine. She gasps into the kiss, and I take it, drinking her in. My hand grips her chin, holding her mouth to mine, while my other hand roams down, gripping her hips, dragging her soaked body flush against mine. Her thighs part around me instinctively, and I lift her onto the table in one swift motion.
My fingers slide up under the clinging fabric of her gown, dragging it over her hips and baring her to me. She shudders when my hands find her. Hot, slick, already aching for me.
“Daedalus,” she breathes, voice trembling on the edge of desperation.
“I told you,” I mutter against her throat, “I need you.”
Then I drop to my knees.
She stiffens in surprise, her hands bracing on the table behind her. But I hook one of her thighs over my shoulder, spreading her open with a firm grip as I drag my mouth along her inner thigh. Her breath catches when I kiss just beside where she wants me, and again when my tongue finally finds her, slow at first, savoring every taste, every twitch of her hips.
She lets out a strangled sound, thighs trembling around my head, her hands darting into my hair and fisting tight.
I groan into her, the sound vibrating against her, and her hips buck in response. I lick her again, firmer, deeper, letting her ride the rhythm of my tongue until she’s writhing, panting, muttering broken curses in a voice I barely recognize. Her gown slips down her chest, baring one breast, and I reach up to cup it, thumb brushing over the hardened peak while I fuck her with my mouth like I’m starving.
Her cries rise higher with every flick of my tongue, her whole body clenching, desperate and close.
“Daedalus,” she gasps, breath hitching.
I look up, lips slick with her, and rasp, “Cum for me.”
She does.
Her thighs clamp tight, her back arches, and she cries out my name like a prayer as she breaks apart against my mouth.
I stand, catching her before she can slump fully back, and kiss her, messy, possessive, letting her taste herself on my tongue.
