But Amatu fucking spare him, he couldn’t help himself.
That stupid, selfish, primal part of his brain insisted he have her. Even if doing so meant putting her in grave danger.
He pulled back to study her: flushed, swollen lips; wild, rebellious curls; hard nipples poking through her thin white chemise.
His cock twitched as his eyes roved down to her legs. To thosefuckingstockings that drove him half-mad with desire.
He placed his hands on the golden skin just above, running his thumbs along the edges of the wool, and Xenia’s thighs quivered in anticipation.
“Cael,” she breathed.
He flicked his eyes back to hers, and the lust shining there ripped away the last shred of his sanity.
His hands roved higher, coasting over the crease of her hip. He dragged her chemise above the taut plane of her stomach, and she arched her back as his knuckles traced over her breasts. He tossed her chemise aside, then ran his thumb across a peaked bud while she writhed against the counter.
He leaned in, their mouths inches apart. “You want this?”
“You know I do.” She grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand between her legs, to the wet heat waiting for him. He murmured a curse.
She surged forward and kissed him again, laying her hand atop his and grinding his fingers against her slick panties.
He was hard as a fucking rock, all rational thought buried. He needed to make her come. He needed to feel her fall apart on his fingers. He needed to give her something in return for her gentle words and buoyant spirit.
He wrenched his hand from underneath hers, and she huffed a frustrated breath against his mouth.
He pulled back and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Off,” he ordered, dipping his eyes to her panties. “Now.”
A thrill shuddered through her limbs as she scooted around on the counter, pulling them off and letting them fall to the floor. She went to remove the stockings, but he stilled her with a shake of his head.
“No. Leave those on. And open your legs.”
Xenia leaned back against the mirror and obeyed his request.
Stygiosendhim.
Her flushed pink sex gleamed, and the sight of her bared to him in nothing but those wool stockings was the hottest fucking thing he’d seen in one-and-a-half centuries of life.
He spent a long minute admiring her. Committing the view to memory in case this was the last time.
She stroked her thighs, beckoning him.
He tried to draw up an ounce of guilt for what he was about to do. Technically, he was promised to another female.
But his selfish heart only wantedher.
The luminous little star splayed across his counter. His guiding light through the darkness.
He stepped into her, his cock throbbing behind his zipper, and slid a finger inside her at the same time as he cupped one small, perfect breast.
Her hips jolted forward, and she threw her head back.
She reached out to grab him, to pull him closer, but he caught her wrists in one hand and pulled them above her head.
“No touching,” he murmured, running his lips down her neck as he continued to pump his finger in and out of her slowly. He didn’t want her to touch him. He wanted this to be solely about her pleasure—and he might come in his pants if she did.
Her wrists strained against his grip. “Cael,please.”
He squeezed them tighter. “No. Focus on how I’m making you feel. Don’t worry about me.”
