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Sweet. Addictive. And gods help me, impossible to stop craving.
Fuck. I neededmoreof this.
Who cared that we were sitting on a beach, unhidden except by the cover of darkness? Who cared people might be looking for us? My hands were wandering on their own now, finding every sensitive place I knew so well, cataloguing every brand new audible reaction. A feathery brush over the sharp tip of his ear, and he let out a ragged breath against my mouth. A nip at his jaw, and he growled low in his throat, his hands tightening around my waist. A scrape of nails over the onset of his wing, and hesnarled– a primal sound that left me lightheaded and gasping for air.
It was like drowning in him. Like drowning in desire. My eager ears seemed to render my skin and fingers twice as sensitive, every moan and whimper stirring flickers of need unlikeanything I’d felt before – fanning those flames demanding more, more,more.
‘Em,’ he growled, and gods have mercy on me, there was suchwonderin that single rough syllable. ‘Em, I—’
His voice started cracking again.
‘Shh,’ I muttered, wrapping my fingers around his face. ‘I don’t think you need all that many words for this, Your Highness.’
His laughter was a surrender. I pressed my mouth to his, tasting the sounds that escaped him – part moan, part cough, part laughter, and each of them equally delicious. He moved back, and I moved with him, straddling him as he fumbled to shift his wings beneath himself and lie down in the sand.
Kissing him, I dug my nails into his chest. My reward was a hoarse groan that reverberated all the way down my body, heating the wetness between my thighs to a torturous fever.
I could have lost him.
But damn it all, Ihadn't,and this … this I could make right.
I tore myself away from his mouth and moved downwards, my lips tracing a trail down his neck and chest, my hands clawing at the buttons of his shirt. Two or three broke off in my hurry to unfasten them. The chiselled planes of his chest emerged smooth and silvery in the moonlight, the dark lines of his scars standing out like a map of battles and pain; I couldn't help but bend over to kiss every single one of them, lapping the salty flavour of his sweat off his skin.
The sound that escaped him was a guttural growl – pleasure as much as frustration.
‘More of that,’ I breathed, nuzzling his nipple. ‘Please. I don’t need words. I just want to hear what I make you feel.’
His rough exhalation was the only response I needed.
He didn’t even touch me. He didn’t need to. His voice seemed to have taken on a physical shape against my skin, scraping down my sensitive nerves, adding another point of friction tothe hardness of his body beneath me – as if those gasps and moans had become tangible things, caressing me in places no finger could touch. He still felt like himself. He still smelled like himself, musky and sweet. But whenever I closed my eyes, he sounded like a stranger, and somehow the thrill of that brand new unknown only deepened the ache for him.
More.
More.
I moved down.
Licking and kissing, down the ridges of his chest, down his muscular stomach … I paused to circle my tongue around his navel just once, tasting him. His breath came faster now, a desperate rhythm that matched my own frantic pulse; his hands tangled in my hair as he arched off the black beach, hips bucking up to meet me. I fought with the fastening of his trousers. My fingers were trembling and slick with sweat, and gods help me, why were these damned things still not giving way?
I tore off another button in the end, freeing his straining erection with a hiss of impatience. Such a familiar sight, the curved hardness of him, thick and swollen and glistening temptingly in the moonlight …
But I rubbed down his length in one firm stroke, and the husky groan that escaped him was thrillingly, gloriously new.
Sound and sensation mingled. He arched up, thrusting into my fingers, and moaned again – that deep, fraying surrender I could feel in every fibre of my body. I flicked my thumb over the smooth head of his cock, spreading the moisture welling there. This time, the sound that fell from his lips was almost a whimper, a perfect match to the shudder that soared through him.
I leaned over and licked down his shaft, andgods, his cry of surrender made the emptiness between my thighs ache with need.
How would I ever get enough of this? They’d have to pause their damn war. The Mother would have to find something else to do instead of slaughtering innocent islands of people. I’d be too busy fucking her son for the rest of the year to make time for killing her – too busy making up for a hundred and thirty years of torturous silence.
These moans … these glorious moans …
I took him deeper into my mouth, savouring the silky, salty weight on my tongue, savouring every barely suppressed whimper. Hell, I wanted to hear him pleading for release. I wanted to hear him howl with pleasure. My fingers joined my lips and tongue, finding new spots to torment. Anything to stop him from ever going quiet again, anything to make him feel just how much I wanted and needed him …
And it was then, just as I started wondering if it was possible to climax from the sound of pleasure alone, that Alyra’s agitated squeaks abruptly shattered the delirium of my lust-dazed thoughts.
Chapter 2
I’d never moved sofast in my life.
