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He wasn’t tentative, but he was waiting. He was giving me an opening.
I didn’t need it and I didn’t fucking want it. I wanted him inside of me, any way he wanted.
I told him as much with a demanding thrust of my hips.
I was rewarded by the low rumble of his chuckle and the brush of his lips on my shoulder before he eased his thumb into that forbidden cavern. It wasn’t entirely a new sensation for me, but everything with Arran was different. It wasmore.
One finger continued those punishing circles on my clit as the other explored gently. Then he eased his hand away and replaced it with his cock.
Inch by glorious inch, he eased into me. His hand dipped back to my pussy, then to my mouth, then his mouth, finding the lubrication he needed to go in, in, in. Until I felt the warm press of his balls against my ass, his cock fully seated inside of me.
“Veyka,” he groaned.
I glanced over my shoulder, and seeing the look of pure ecstasy on his face almost had me coming right there.
“Fuck me.”
He did. He slid that perfect, huge cock out and then back in, filling me again and again. It was tight and tense and every now and then there was a tiny twinge of pain that just sent me arching harder against him. His fingers on my clit were relentless. I screamed my orgasm—once, twice, I completely lost track.
My entire world contracted to the feel of Arran’s body inside of mine. I felt the shift, the moment he lost control and pounded into me. Three strokes of that punishing pace, sharp edges lancing through my body, and he was spurting inside of me, cum leaking down my back, coating my thighs. It was enough to send me crashing over the precipice again, both of us screaming until we were nothing more than a tangled mass, held up only by the planes of our bodies pressed together and that blessed wall.
51
VEYKA
I had no memory of making it to my bed. My first thought was to reach across the soft expanse, expecting a hard male body—nothing.
My second was drowned out by the pounding in my head.
Ancestors.
I’d never drunk so much aural in my life. I knew better than this.
It’s fine. I’ll stay in bed until the pounding stops.
I rolled over, dimly aware of my tangled garments hanging off of me in shreds.
Oh, no.
No. No. No. No. No.
Moving was a terrible idea.
I hurled myself out of the bed, pure instinct driving me in the direction of the washroom.
Somewhere around the fourth or fifth heave, gentle hands pulled back my hair.
I tried to lie down right there on the cool tiled floor. But those same hands guided me to lean against the wall instead. Another pair laid a cool, damp cloth over my eyes.
“I’m dying,” I moaned, certain of the fact.
“Isn’t that what you’ve longed for these many months?” Cyara’s dry voice cut through the fog wrapped around my brain.
She wasn’t wrong. Not entirely.
Revenge and oblivion. Those were the only things I’d wanted after Arthur’s death.
And now?
