Page 163 of Ashborne Forged

“What is it? Why are you smiling?”

“All the ways,” I rasped. “I vowed to you. I have something to show you.”

Her eyes went round as I leaned in and kissed her desperately again, then took hold of her shoulders and jerked her around so her back was to me, then dropped my lips to the nape of her neck as I plastered myself to her back.

I heard her inhale sharply, but she melted against me as I slipped hands up her sides, forward, over her breasts, frustrated by the layers of fabric and corset, but then up, under the soft skin of her inner-arms. Mouth open, tongue laving the back of her neck, I trailed fingers up the insides of her arms, all the way, until she shivered and I gripped her wrists and lifted both hands high above her head, planting her palms against the wall to give her leverage.

Then, I slid one hand over hers, fingers between hers, and gripped. And the other played back down her body as my panting breaths rushed against the skin on her neck.

“You know which part of a woman’s dress is always crumpled, Grace?”

She shook her head quickly, swallowing, panting as heavily as I was.

I smiled and grazed her nape with my teeth. “Her seat,” I whispered. “Where she sits. That fabric is always crumpled.”

Then I lifted her skirt, furling it up until I reached the warmth under it.

Grace’s head sank back, and she bit her lip as I ran hot, trembling fingers up the inside of her leg, stroking the line of every curve—until I found the true heat of her.

She shuddered when I touched her, a cry breaking in her throat—but she caught it, swallowed it, tipped her head and clenched her teeth, her breath hissing, as I began to stroke.

‘I have missed you with an ache that pains me physically,’ I sent, kissing her neck again, that delicate skin behind her ear, the corner of her jaw, anything I could reach. ‘I love you, Grace.’

‘I love you, too!’

‘I need you—’

‘Yes! Please! I—’

Using my body to pin her skirts in the hollow of her back, I fumbled at my trousers, cursing myself, that voice in the back of my head screaming that it was too risky, far too dangerous—

Positioning myself, I slid against her, gasping, my grip on her fingers so tight our knuckles ground together. I tried to fight it, but nothing in me would allow me to stop. And Grace was arching, pressing back against me, pleading.

I had to have her. To prove to my soul that she was real, and here and—

‘OHMYGODVOSKI—’

I joined with her in a single stroke, biting down on her shoulder to stifle my roar when she clenched on me and her body shuddered. Grace’s head fell back, her mouth open, and her fingers clawing at the stone, gasping, begging, shuddering as her body peaked immediately, and almost pulled me over the cliff with her.

She clenched so beautifully on me, pulsing, whimpering, and I thrust, flattening my free hand on her stomach to keep her upright as her knees trembled and her body threatened to collapse to the floor.

‘Mine,’ I rasped, as she shook and choked and returned to sanity—barely. She was gasping, blinking—but still pressing against me, bracing, panting.

My body thrilled and bucked—but I’d barely begun.

‘My beautiful mate… My sweet, strong, beautiful mate. None of them will ever have you. I’ll burn every single one of them to the ground before I’ll let them have you. You are mine, Grace—do you hear me? Mine. Only mine.’

‘Yes!’ she sobbed as I retreated, then drove into her again. ‘Yes, my love. Yes.’

~ GRACE ~

I’d never felt so alive, so full of sensation and emotion that it seemed my flesh couldn’t contain it.

My skin shivered, my bones hummed. Every inch tingled, fizzed. It stole my wits.

When he took me it was the most consuming pleasure that my body, which had already ached for him, crashed to my peak like a wave on the beach, sending me tumbling, breathless, shuddering and spinning… only to be washed up in his arms. Still welcoming him, still needing, still desperate.

I sobbed with the pure joy of it.