I imagined his mouth at my throat.
His growling voice in my ear.
The rough slide of his tongue against mine.
My hips rocked helplessly into my own hand.
I pushed two fingers inside, pumping them in and out.
Next, I used my own slick to rub my clit in hard little circles.
Gods.
No one had ever made me feel like this before.
Wanted.
Desired.
Chosen.
The realization alone nearly made me emotional.
Because beneath all the lust and aching need was something even more dangerous:
Hope.
I wanted him to keep looking at me that way.
Wanted more kisses.
More touches.
More of whatever impossible thing was building between us beneath the dark skies of Runevald.
My breath quickened as pleasure coiled tighter low in my stomach.
I imagined his big hands spreading my thighs.
Imagined the rough praise in his voice if he saw how wet he’d made me.
The thought shattered something inside me.
Pleasure crashed through my body suddenly and hard, stealing the breath from my lungs as I came with a muffled cry into the darkness of my empty dorm room.
Heat rushed through me in waves while my thighs trembled around my hand.
And through all of it—all I could think about was him.
Sten.
My Monster.
Mine.
The possessive thought startled me even as exhaustion slowly settled into my bones afterward.
I stared up at the glowing auroras outside my window, chest still heaving softly.
