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“Shiraz!”
He reacted by plunging even deeper. His moan mixed with my own. “Wet,” he uttered, amazement lacing his growl. “Tight. And so perfect…”
“Because of you,” I whispered. “For you.”
He lowered his other hand, using it to push my leggings to my knees. His movements were jerky and fevered, only adding to my heat. I needed him with the same hot urgency, though he seemed to need the knowledge for himself, testing deeper parts of me with harsher thrusts of his finger.
“For me to claim?” he finally demanded.
“Yes.” What his words did to me. How his lust consumed me.
“With my cock?”
“God, yes!”
For a virgin, he was fucking good at this—especially at the whole edging thing, damn him. Three seconds more of that dirty verbal foreplay, along with the thorough finger fucking, and I would have been tumbling into one of the best climaxes of my existence—but the bastard withdrew, rising on his haunches, though keeping me riveted to him with a stare belonging more on a medieval gladiator.
Or a master about to shackle his slave.
“Then take these off.” He yanked at one ankle of my leggings. Let it snap back before stripping his shirt in one sweep, and nearly making me swallow my tongue. Baby Jesus in a play mobile, the man was really like something out of a movie. Thor, Wolverine, and all 1800 abdominal ridges of The 300 weren’t enough comparison for his defined, muscled glory, especially with a torso punctuated by that long, perfect cock—
And given to a man who knew exactly how I liked my foreplay.
Erotic. Explicit.
“Lucina?” He stressed the bark with both raised brows. “The leggings?”
“Right,” I managed. “Sorry, I—”
“No explanations.” The sleek surety was back in every note of his voice, every inch of his actions. “Just actions. I want you nude and spread, Lucina. Now.”
Thank God I only had two inches of the leggings left by that point. By the time I’d recovered enough to murmur a fast, “Yes, Master”, all I had to do was lay down, shivering a little from the travertine tile against my bare back, and part my legs for him.
Opening myself to him…
Freeing myself for him…
Burning for the exact stare he raked over my nudity, as he stretched one hand over the length of his own.
“Holy fuck,” he rasped, and I nearly echoed the words. Had he just manifested a condom from thin air? A glance to the open nightstand drawer answered my silent question—how a tiny island Palais stocked shit like that in guest rooms was beyond my understanding—and chose to simply be grateful for it. I’d started birth control pills for the first time in my life when Ryan asked me to, but tossed them in rebellion when things went sideways. On a kinkier note, it was a definite panty-soaker to watch a demigod squeeze his balls, just to withhold coming just from the sight of one’s spread crotch—if there were any panties on hand to drench.
Snark wasn’t going to get me out of that larger point.
That all my juices had nowhere to go but out—fully exposed to his searing gaze. That with tears still tracking my face, I had nowhere to hide from this man—nothing to do but accept him into my arms as he shifted, angling himself over me…
Then surging into me.
Groaning as I gasped.
Shuddering as I sighed.
Plunging his tongue down my throat as he drove his body deep inside mine. Moaning again, harder and longer, as he held himself there, locking his hips to still us both as he grew, pushing at my walls, filling all my corners.
Joining himself to me…as no man ever had.
And yeah, I was going to get Biblical again. But never had flesh of my flesh had more effortless, flawless meaning—or been more significant in the depths of my heart and soul. Denying it wasn’t an option. Trivializing him was no longer an option. I realized it as soon as he pulled up enough to gaze at me, now moving with slow, steady purpose inside me. With hands cupped at my temples, brushing back the hair from my face, his gaze swept over me, alive and alight, looking as if he’d just been given the secret of the damn cosmos.
Before I could gulp it back, a new burn attacked the backs of my eyes. I dug fingers into his back, hanging on as the emotion washed over me. Even more seeped out with every new lunge of his cock, and I no longer cared. I wanted him to see—to understand that this meant as much to me as him.
