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“No.”She smiled, curling her nails against his skin.“Take me wherever you need me to be.”
The beast in him leapt, salivating, and he swept her into his arms, ignoring her startled squeak.He wanted to devour her right there in the hall, uncaring who saw.The predator can have no mercy in its heart for the prey, Nic had once told him, and he’d been appalled.But that had been his better self, and that fellow seemed to have disappeared somewhere in the incandescence of his rage and need.Still, part of him remembered that he shouldn’t drain her magic as he craved to do.But he would have everything else of her.Because their bedroom was too far away, he turned the other direction to the library, making it there in several long strides.
Fortunately the door stood open, and he kicked it closed.“Lock it,” he ordered Nic, moving to set her down.
But she wound her arms behind his neck, her green gaze as feral as he felt.“Do it yourself,wizard.”
With a snarl, he flexed his magic, manifesting a set of silver pins from moonlight and nailing the door shut.She laughed, a wild, delighted sound that ended in a gasp as he flung her over his desk.Pushing her down with a hand at the nape of her neck, he was vaguely aware that she’d taunted him with this very thing.Next time, try bending me over the desk while you hold me down by the back of the neck and toss up my skirts.He’d been shocked by that, too, horrified by the suggestion—and something of that self stood by in that same aghast horror.
But that self was his mother’s son.He was such a sweet boy.Such a good heart, loving, kind, generous, and…“And gone forever,” he growled, pulling up Nic’s skirts and kicking her feet apart as she squirmed under his grip.Finding her lacy, silky panties, he ripped them off, hearing her moan.She lay over the now-glossy wood of the desk, one cheek pressed against it, her face turned away and her arms stretched to grasp the far side.Her perfect ass, round, gleaming pale in the faint light, was splayed before him, vulnerable and enticing.He slapped it, hard, savoring her cry of pain and desire, loving how she writhed, whimpering.
Dragging his fingers through her spread sex, he found her slick with passion, hot, fluttering beneath his touch.She pressed back against his hand, wanton, needy, offering everything.Ripping open his pants, he freed himself and thrust into her, viciously pleased by her wailing cry and the way she convulsed, bucking under his grip.He had to take a moment to master his own shuddering need, deeply shaken by the heated welcome of her body, the tight returning grip of her sheath, her back arched to take him in, to yield him everything—including her magic, which poured into him with intoxicating strength.
Ruthlessly, he held her down, penetrating deeply, digging deeper with every thrust.Her magic billowed and bloomed, warming his icy fury.And she moved with him, flowering, opening with every stroke, harder, faster, deeper.
Until he exploded, ramming himself home as she screamed her climax, silver falling around them in a torrent that echoed the raging storm outside.Semen, moonlight, argent rain, it all poured out of him and into her.In one corner of his soul, he sensed the arcanium pulsing in time with their orgasms, streams of silver light charging through the arched beams.
At the last moment, he interlaced his fingers with hers, so they both held on to the edge with the same desperate grip.With red and black edging his vision, safe in the embrace of Nic’s prone body, he collapsed, giving himself over to the solace of senselessness.
