Page 10 of Ashborne Forged

Closer. Please.

The hollow that had been nestled against my heart, dropped to open behind my navel, and I ached.

Then he entered me with a finger and I gasped. He swept his tongue under my lip as he curled a finger within me.

I shivered, whimpered, trembled. Wanted.

More.

But still, he moved slowly—touching softly, though surely. Teasing, beckoning, urging more trembling from my thrilled flesh. My breath grew louder and louder, until I heard little but my pulse pounding in my ears, and the tortured groans that vibrated in his chest now and again.

“Voski… please.”

He gave a gravelling chuckle that had me shivering again, and curled himself almost in half to taste my breast again, while touching me.

I’d done little but cling to his shoulders, or wrap my arms around his neck—yet I was not uneducated. I knew where this took us.

And I wanted it. I wanted him. Now.

Closing my eyes tightly, letting him take my weight, I slid both hands down his chest, to the flat of his abdomen and the rippling steel muscles there—and found his belt buckle.

He sucked in, biting lightly on my nipple so that I twitched and squeaked. But I didn’t let go, managing to unbuckle his belt with trembling hands, then worked the buttons of his fly.

“Grace. Shit.”

His arm created a barrier, but I couldn’t bear to have him stop touching me. So, it took some moments of uncertainty, before I could pull the fabric of his trousers aside. He groaned with what I hoped was relief as he was freed. And then I felt him, thick and warm against my belly and reached for him.

I stroked a cautious palm up his length, my breath catching at the startling heat of him. It was a hesitant exploration, yet his body jerked. He dropped his forehead to my collarbones, stopped sucking and kissing, his breath fluttering down my chest, creating a chill where my nipple was damp from his attentions.

Uncertain, but fascinated, I ran my hand along him, surprised when his entire body tensed, and his breath rushed out of him.

“Show me,” I whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

He straightened us both then, but didn’t let me go, his eyes sharp in the dark and locked on mine, obscured only by strands of his hair. His breath tore in and out of his throat, his chest and shoulders rising and falling with it. But he measured my gaze, then without a word, grasped my wrist.

I wasn’t sure what he planned to do, so when he lifted my hand to his mouth, I was shocked. He locked eyes with me, and without dropping the gaze, licked, one long stroke, his tongue thick and hot against my palm.

I’d never seen a man do any such thing. It seemed I should be horrified. But I couldn’t break his intense gaze as hot need drilled through my belly at the erotic sight.

His eyes were still on mine when he returned my hand to his thick length.

The softness of the skin there shocked me. But he wrapped my fingers around him, and clamped his hand over mine—tighter than I expected.

He never stopped searching my gaze as he drew my hand down—but his jaw went slack and his breath caught. Then back up—all the way up until my fist began to close at the top—and then pressed my hand back down, just halfway this time, and he shivered in response.

Something hot and powerful coiled in my chest at the sight of him, undone so simply. When he released my hand and cupped his strong fingers at the back of my neck, I stroked him again, just as he’d shown me. He leaned back a little to give himself clear sight, watching me touch him. His eyes hooded, and his jaw rolled.

“Yes,” he rasped. “Like that. Don’t stop.”

So, I didn’t. And his brow furrowed, his eyes turning black in the dark—but to my shock, urging me not to pause, he reached for me with his free hand, first teasing my nipple with the calloused side of his thumb, and when my breath quickened, sliding that hand down my body to my most sensitive flesh.

We both sighed, stroking, our bodies twitching. He watched me touch him. I watched him watching me. And something deep in my core turned hot and languid.

“Voski,” I croaked and his eyes snapped up—measuring me again—but when he saw my smile, his lips curled up and he pulled me closer, until there was almost no room to touch him. “I—” but there was no more room for words, either, because he kissed me once more, his breath thundering across my cheek, and I stroked him—slowly, as he’d done for me—and marveled at the rippling tension it evoked in him.

A deep, ragged growl rolled in his throat, into my mouth, and my body thrilled—I stroked him faster, but he caught my wrist suddenly, shuddering, shaking his head even as he nipped at my lower lip.

“Stop, for now. Stop,” he rasped.