Page 55 of The Temptation of Roan Island

Even tonight, he gave this pleasure to others. The thought sobers me. And I don’t want to be sober. I want to stay in this bliss forever.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp. “Please, Maiah. I need⁠—”

He pulls away from my neck. “I know what you fucking need,” he rumbles, hesitates a moment, then dives in, claiming my lips with a harsh kiss.

The shock of it slams into me. My body contracts, seeking something to grasp. His tongue dances with mine, and I taste the blood along with the sweet tang of something else, equally addicting. I moan into his mouth, my hands gripping his back, holding him tighter. His touch roams, sliding up and down my body, over my contained breasts.

“Goddess, Pippa. Fuck,” he groans against my skin, and bites me again.

“Yes!” Pleasure tumbles through me, my insides somersaulting and twisting with ravenous eagerness. I paw at his clothing, pulling at his shirt, trying to get it off his back. His skin. I need his skin. Throwing every caution to the wind, I beg. “Maiah. Please. I need you to fuck m⁠—”

He tears his teeth away from my neck and covers my mouth with his hand.

With my back against the house, the cool stone makes me shiver as I wait for Shemaiah to look at me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lingers against my neck, his panting breaths drifting across my skin like those soft touches in the library.

“Maiah?” My voice sounds muffled under his palm.

“Don’t say it,” he growls. Lowering me just enough for the bulge in his pants to press harder against my clit. “Feel that? I’m hanging on by a thread, so don’t you dare tell me to fuck you, because I will. I’ll fuck you so fast you won’t know what hit you. And you’ll hate me,” he says, voice cracking. “Don’t ask me to fuck you, Pippa. I can’t. I can’t.” He claims my lips with a new desperation, circling his hips, pressing right where I want him.

“There,” I cry into his mouth. “Yes, oh yes.”

He strokes, his hardness hitting me exactly where I need it. I whine, biting my lip to keep from asking for what I want.

Tears spring to my eyes, his solid heat hitting me just right, kneading the softness between my legs with perfect pressure. He presses his forehead to mine.

“Maiah,” I cry. “This⁠—”

“Keep climbing, little flower.” His voice is softer, tender now. He kisses my shoulder, right over the spot he bit.

I shake my head. “I can’t. I don’t⁠—”

“I’ve got you.” With Mavarri strength, he lifts and lowers me, each time dragging my pussy against the hard ridge of him.

The friction, the warmth, the pure masculine strength of his arms flexing as his hands grip and work me against him has me in a frenzy. I tilt my hips seeking the precipice. So close.

“That’s it. Take what you need,” he growls.

The fireflies behind my eyes burst into flames, fireworks in the dark. Sparks explode inside me from my clit outward, racing across my back, burning to the tips of my fingers and curled toes.

“Oh,” I cry out, making sounds I’ve never made before. I might be ashamed if I cared, but Shemaiah’s soft voice, his whispered words against my skin coax me through it. I clench around emptiness, float from the heights down, down, down. And still I want more.

Shemaiah pulls away, his hands drifting over my face, touching my neck where he’s bitten me, his mouth dark with my blood. Tearing my gloves from my hands, I reach up to touch him, swiping a thumb across his slippery lips.

“How do you feel?” His voice is quiet, locked in the secret space just between us.

I’m struggling to find a coherent thought. Struggling to remember this was only for my health. He’s given me something so beautiful, but the emotions wrapped up in it, around him, around myself, are all supposed to be pretend. And I know they aren’t anymore. Somewhere along the way, I’ve developed feelings for him. Feelings I shouldn’t have.

“Pippa?” His worry breaks through the cloud of my euphoria.

“Good. I feel… so good.” I rock my hips against him again, a glutton for punishment. My body is still desperate with desire despite the rational thoughts trying to regain control.

“You’re still needy?” he whispers.

I moan, unable to answer. I haven’t had nearly enough of him. Especially since I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. If he’ll ever touch me like this again. “Please. Shemaiah. I need you.” Need doesn’t feel like a strong enough word. I can still feel the fire of his venom coursing through my blood, the hard length of him grinding against me.

“Fuck me.” There, I’ve said it. The words he didn’t want me to say. The words that could be our undoing. The words I couldn’t hold back.

Suddenly, a scream cuts the darkness into shards.