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That. He needed that.
He traced the line of her jaw, adoring her. “I think you won me the moment you looked at me with those big eyes and a gag in your mouth.” A gag like that gave a male ideas. Made him wonder what else he could fit in there.
The corners of her mouth twitched a split second before new vines shoved him to his back at the foot of the bed. She used the connection to pull herself to her knees, until she braced her palms at his temples. Ebony hair framed a hauntingly beautiful face flushed with brimming arousal.
Something inside him cracked—something deeper than before, as if he’d only shattered the surface last time.
Though he floundered, he palmed her breasts and swiped his thumbs over her distended nipples. He needed his hands on her. “What is my queen planning for me?”
“No sex. Not yet. But I still want to ride you.” When she ran her tongue over her upper lip and eased back, reaching for the waist of his pants, his thoughts faded. Her breasts bobbed as she worked the tie, freeing his straining erection. The release of pressure was a mercy and a punishment, one indistinguishable from the other.
After wrapping searing fingers around his length and stroking, driving him to the brink, Chantel returned to her previous position.
“Do you want me to ride you, Kaysar?”
“More than anything.” Truth.
“I’m glad. It’s gonna be so good, baby,” she rasped, before lowering. A slow sinking. Excruciating. “You’re so big.”
She pressed her bare sex against his shaft. Male to female. Flesh to flesh. A hoarse cry barked from him.“We’re gonna do what I call a leisurely bump and grind,” she said.
Another bark exploded from him when she rocked against him, rubbing, coating his length with her wetness. She glided up. Down. Up. Bliss as sharp as a blade and twice as dangerous sliced more of his control.
“The feel of you against me, sweetling...”
She rocked against him with increasing force, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. More! Kaysar cupped her nape with his clawed hand, holding her steady, and thrust up his hips. The firmer contact proved too much but still also not enough. The pressure, the pressure. So good. So necessary. Wonderful and terrible. Agony and rapture.
“Chantel...precious...” He didn’t care if the fortress crumbled from the mountainside. He didn’t care if the Frostlines or Micah invaded. This pleasure...increasing, magnifying, overtaking...the sensations...
He couldn’t...
He wasn’t...
She leaned down and licked into his mouth, feeding him raw passion, rocking against him harder and harder. Kaysar planted his heels and thrust up, meeting her, and they rubbed together. The bed shook. He lifted his hips again; she rocked hers. Lifted. Rocked. Again and again and again.
His heart thudded. His inhalations thinned and shallowed. Still too much, still not enough. Soon, something inside him might shatter for good. Might reach a part of him he wasn’t ready to face. Yet he rubbed himself against his female, desperate to continue the ride.
Growling, he flipped her to her back and rose above her. Grinding. Pressure continued to build.
She thrashed and spread her legs wider. “Kaysar, I’m so close again.”
“Let’s get you closer, hmm?” He draped an arm around the top of her head as protection. Rocked against her. Faster and faster, until he hammered at her. With his free hand, he pinched her pretty nipples.
“Like that, like that, like that,” she chanted. “Yes!”
Satisfaction swelled his chest as wonder glazed her exquisite features, her body coming for the third time. He’d done this. He had reduced this powerful queen to a creature of sensation, ruled by her body’s demands.
“Want to feel you coming.” He angled just enough to plunge two fingers inside her.
As her inner walls clenched around the digits, she clutched his wrist to ensure he remained there. Only when she sagged over the mattress did he pull them out, and wrap his soaked hand around his shaft.
The ecstasy and the pain. The duo ruled him. For the first time in his existence, he felt alive. But as he stroked himself while pinning his sweetling, his own climax remained at bay. Why, why? Stroking, stroking. Faster. Harder. Still no climax.
Frustration dulled the pleasure, the bliss slipping further away, and he roared.
Chantel lay beneath him—still coming. She lifted her head to lave his nipples. “It won’t stop. It’s so good. You’re so good. Kaysar? Please, come for me. You said you’d give me everything.”
As he pumped his length, the head of his shaft grazed her clit. Her back bowed, and she screamed.
Blessed euphoria ripped through him. The shattering he’d expected. A culmination thousands of years in the making.
Kaysar threw back his head and bellowed, climaxing over his female’s dress.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
COOKIE REMAINED BENEATH KAYSAR as he came down from his high. A sense of vulnerability proved as strong as a shackle. Usually she left immediately after a make-out session to discourage after-chatter. But at this precise moment, she longed to snuggle up and speak to Kaysar about anything, everything and nothing all at once. Her stern demeanor? In tatters.
