I’m still shaking, squirming under him, when I hiss it. “You—you made me come with magic.”
He hums against my breast, pleased. The next wave is already building in me with nothing touching me at all, and a thrill of pure animal fear chases the want through me. I understand now: he’s going to take me apart. He’s been holding an ocean of this back, and he’s finally letting it out, and he’s going to wreck me.
“Feel what I feel,” he says, low and ruined, and then he stops talking altogether.
He slides down my body, my wrists still pinned where he wants them, and settles between my thighs, pushing them wide. Then his mouth is on my pussy, hot and open and hungry.
He licks into me deep, slow then merciless, dragging the flat of his tongue from my entrance up to my clit and circling it, sucking it between his lips, and the sounds he makes against meare obscene, slurping and groaning like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted in his mouth.
My hips buck up into him and the magic holds all of me, leaves me with nothing to do but take it. I come on his tongue with a cry, my thighs clamping around his head, and he licks me through every pulse of it and doesn’t let up.
His hands come back to me and turn me, flipping me onto my stomach, lifting my hips until my knees are under me and my face is in the sheets. My tail lies dead and limp down my back, no help to me at all, my lion still curled and resting deep inside.
His hands spread me. His mouth drops to my ass and he licks me there, filthy and without an ounce of shame, then moves to my pussy and feeds on me from behind, his tongue working me, his nose pressed into me, the wet noise of it filling the room.
I’m shaking all over, and when I come again it rolls through me so long and so deep I think it might never stop.
He doesn’t give me a second to recover. He fits the head of his dick against me and buries himself in one stroke, and the stretch of him punches the air out of my lungs.
He fucks me into the mattress, one hand gripping the back of my neck and the other clamped on my hip, every thrust slamming me forward, the headboard cracking against the wall, and it’s too much and not enough, the painful, perfect edge my lion has always craved, and I’m too wrecked to even reach for her.
The pressure builds and builds with nowhere to go, and then it breaks, and I’m coming so hard I let go, slick gushing down my thighs, my legs shaking under me so badly they give out. He follows me down, grinding deep, working me through it with a low broken sound.
I think we’re finished. We’re not even close.
His magic rolls me onto my back. He comes down over me and slides into me again, slow this time, deep and grinding, hiships rolling against mine. The new angle catches something that has me arching up off the bed, clutching at him with hands he finally lets me move.
He fucks me long and deep, devastating, his forehead dropped to mine, his black eyes locked on my face, watching every wave cross it, and when I come again it’s quieter and somehow worse, shaking me apart from the inside out.
“Aaron.” I get a hand to his cheek, my voice barely working. “Aaron, honey, hold on?—“
He’s not listening to me. He’s not anywhere I can reach.
He rolls again, smooth and unstoppable, taking me with him until I’m straddling him with his dick buried deep. His magic and his hands settle on my hips and start lifting me, working me up and down the length of him.
He sits up under me, wraps an arm around my back, and takes a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, his other hand helping me ride him when my own strength is long gone.
I’m slick with sweat from my hairline to the small of my back, my thighs burning, my body wrung out past anything I knew it could survive, and still he bounces me on him, steady and relentless, chasing the feeling through me like there’s nowhere in any realm he’d rather be.
I come one more time, scraped raw and shaking, my forehead dropping to his, and this time, finally, he goes with me. He locks me down onto him and spills into me with a sound torn out of the bottom of him, his whole body shuddering, his arms iron around me, his face buried against my neck.
When it’s over, it isn’t him who breaks. It’s me. Every part of me lets go at once, and I sag into him with nothing left, the room swimming, my eyes already falling shut.
Through the roaring in my ears I feel him cradle me down out of his lap and onto the bed, and I hear him, far away and warm.
“I’m the happiest man in the world,” he murmurs into the top of my head. “I’m going to be a father. You’re giving me life, Mara.” His mouth presses to my temple. “I love you so much. I don’t deserve you, I know that I don’t, but I swear to you I’ll do anything to be the man you deserve.”
“Aaron.” It’s all I have left, the shape of his name and nothing behind it.
I feel him moving me, easing my limbs into place, drawing the blanket up, tucking it under my chin, his hands gentle now where they were merciless, settling me until I’m warm and held and impossibly safe. My lion stirs once, sated, and sinks back down. I’m already going under, and the last thing I hear is his voice, quiet and close.
“I love you, Mara. I love you more than anything.”
43
Aaron
Wintermoon Academy—A Week Later
