AllFreeNovel
Share Us
More with the hand shaking now as he futzed around with the bow and the knot under it—and then the tie was loose and the waistband was going lower—
Well. There you have it.
His erection broke out of confinement with a bobbing thrust that absolutely, positively, did not look like it was raising its hand to get called on in a master’s class on erotica.
“I want to touch you again,” she murmured. “Let me… touch you.”
Before he could respond properly—on account of all the OMG, she’s going to touch me!! going around in his brain—Rahvyn’s hand circled his shaft—
Lassiter jerked his hips back and nearly cracked all of his molars. “I’m going to come.”
“I know. I want you to.”
He had to stay perfectly still on his knees after that, for a good minute—and yes, he looked like he was directing traffic, his arms out in front of himself like there was about to be a car crash. Meanwhile, his chest was pumping up and down, and didn’t that not help anything at all: It created a sway at his hips.
“Come into me,” Rahvyn said. “My love… come inside me.”
Lassiter looked up at the arching ceiling of the cave, as if he could see the heavens. He’d never been one to worship the Creator—or even give Him much credence. But it was with utter reverence that he thanked the entity.
For this female.
When Lassiter once again mounted his female, he kept his hips off to the side and found her mouth. Even though he was, quite literally, panting for it, he forced himself to—
Without warning, she repositioned her pelvis, shifting over so that his sex was on hers, and the slick feel of her made something in his brain snap.
It was all instinct after that… reaching between their bodies, grabbing himself, putting his head on her. As she cried out his name, he nudged forward ever so slightly.
Rahvyn took it the rest of the way, a roll of her hips and a push of her lower spine making the penetration real. Looking into her face, he wanted to make sure there was no pain for her—and her tight expression was hard to read.
“Rahvyn?”
Her hands traveled down his body to his ass, and when she gripped him there and pulled forward, he followed her cue, sliding himself all the way home.
Her tight, slick, hot hold was a constriction he felt all the way through him, and he couldn’t help it. He retreated in an achingly slow glide… and slid back in, all the way… inside of her…
The scent of tears panicked him, horror turning the tables on his passion, taking his hot need for her to an icy cold regret—
“I am sorry,” she mumbled as she started to shake.
“Oh, God, Rahvyn, I’m withdrawing—”
“No.”
At her sharp command, he stilled. Not knowing what to do for the best, he watched helplessly as she brushed under her eyes.
“I’m not crying because it hurts,” she said hoarsely. “I’m crying… because this is how it should have been for my first time. With you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Ideally, they would be doing this one-on-one.
Back in the Brotherhood’s mansion, up in the pale blue study that had been decorated for dandies, as opposed to a bunch of males of war, Wrath was sitting on his sire’s throne and praying like hell that the collection of hotheaded fighters, who were testing the structural integrity of all that antique French furniture, would for once—just once, in their ever-loving lives of aggression and territoriality—shut the fuck up.
“No, Fritz,” he said in a voice that was, for him, pretty fucking calm, “you’re not in trouble. I just want to know what happened, that’s all.”
The silence that followed was not good news—and neither was the scent floating over. The doggen was careening into an ocean of self-admonishment and guilt, and if he drowned in it, there was no amount of self-esteem-boosting CPR that was going to bring him back.
“Fritz.” He sat forward on the throne. “Listen to me. Like I said, you didn’t do anything wrong, but it’s a real problem if you don’t talk to me. Don’t think about all of them. Just talk to me.”
To emphasize the point—like he really needed a “Hello, my name is…” badge?—he put his dagger hand over his heart.
In the quiet that persisted, he pictured Fritz in the study. Though he couldn’t see anything anymore, he remembered the layout of the room from when Darius had once guilted him into coming for a tour shortly after the building had finally come to a conclusion and all the furniture and stuff had been moved in. The mansion had been constructed to house the Brotherhood and their mates, a goal that no one, except for Darius, had ever thought would be realized—so Wrath, for a whole host of reasons, hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the decor, all of which was top-notch old crap, and lots of damask this and satin that, and oh, hey, yeah, let’s hang some more crystals from everything because, by all means, the three hundred thousand pounds ya currently got ain’t enough.
