Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
She woke to warmth and the soft light of early morning filtering through the windows. For a moment, she just lay there, taking inventory. Her body ached in ways that had nothing to do with Malus or failed bargains. The pleasant soreness of being thoroughly claimed.
Eliam's hand was tracing idle patterns across her stomach, his chest warm against her back. She could tell by his breathing that he'd been awake for a while.
“Good morning,” she said, closing her eyes again, content to lay wrapped in his arms.
"I was… too eager last night," he murmured, lips brushing against her ear, his voice still rough from sleep.
She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him, confused. "What?"
"Rushed. Desperate." His hand slid lower, fingers spreading across her hip possessively. Briar felt her heart skip in her chest. "I only made you come once and then took what I needed like some untried boy with no control."
Briar didn’t know what to make of the admission and felt warmth creeping into her cheeks. "Oh… it’s… fine."
"Don’t. You deserve better." He shifted, rolling her onto her back, settling over her with deliberate slowness. The morning light painted his features in soft gold, and she could see the intensity in his eyes. "You deserved to be worshipped. Taken apart slowly."
His hand moved between her thighs, fingers ghosting over her with maddening lightness, not quite touching where she was already starting to ache for him.
"At least three or four times," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "Maybe more. Until you're shaking and oversensitive and begging me to stop." His fingers finally made contact, the barest brush against her center. "That's what you deserved."
"Eliam—"
"So that's what you're getting now." He shifted down her body, his mouth finding her breast, teeth closing around her nipple with enough pressure to make her gasp. His hand between her legs remained still, just resting there, a promise of what was coming.
He took his time with her breasts, alternating between gentle suction and sharp bites, never quite giving her what she needed. When he finally moved lower, pressing kisses along her ribs, her stomach, she was already breathing hard.
But he didn't go where she wanted, instead, his mouth found the inside of her thigh, high up where the skin was sensitive, and he bit down. Not gently. Hard enough that she cried out, hard enough to leave a mark that would last days.
"Mine," he said against the reddening skin, then bit the other thigh just as hard.
Her hands twisted in the sheets as he worked his way higher, marking her inner thighs with bruises and teeth marks, each one a declaration of ownership. By the time his breath finally ghosted over her center, she was trembling, desperate for his mouth on her.
He made her wait.
His tongue traced along the crease where her thigh met her body, then the other side, deliberately avoiding where she needed him. When she tried to shift her hips, to guide him where she wanted, his hands clamped down on her thighs, holding her in place.
"Stay still," he commanded, his voice muffled against her skin. "Or I'll stop entirely and leave you like this."
Briar forced herself to do as he said, though every muscle in her body was taut with need. Finally, his tongue dragged up her center in one long, slow stroke that had her back arching off the bed.
Then he stopped and she whimpered in frustration.
“This isn’t worship,” she gasped. “This is torture.”
"Look at me," he demanded.
She forced her eyes open, looking down to find him watching her, his eyes black with desire. The sight of him between her thighs, mouth wet with her, staring at her with that possessive intensity, sent heat flooding through her.
"I want to watch you," he said, his breath hot against her oversensitive flesh. "I want to see your face when you come undone. So keep your eyes on me."
His tongue returned, and she had to struggle to keep her eyes open as he worked her with deliberate precision.
He knew exactly what she liked, exactly where to focus his attention, and he used that knowledge mercilessly.
But every time she got close, every time her breathing hitched and her thighs started to tremble, he would pull back.
"Eliam, please—"
He hummed against her, the vibration making her gasp, but didn't increase his pace. Just kept that same slow, deliberate rhythm that kept her hovering without letting her fall.
His fingers joined his mouth, sliding inside her with agonizing slowness. One, then two, curling to find that spot inside that made her moan. But still he kept that steady, controlled pace, never quite giving her enough to push her over.
She was shaking now, her hands twisted so tight in the sheets her knuckles had gone white. The pleasure was building and building with nowhere to go, and she could feel herself getting desperate, needy in a way that would have embarrassed her if she could think past the sensation.
He knew it, could feel it through the warmth.
"Beg me," he said against her, his voice dark and commanding.
"Please," she gasped. "Please, I need—"
"You need what?" His fingers stilled inside her. “Be specific, little thief,”
"I need you to let me come," she managed, her voice breaking. "Please, Eliam, I need—"
He sealed his lips around her clit and sucked, hard, at the same time his fingers found that perfect angle inside her, and she shattered with a cry that bordered on a scream. The orgasm hit like a wave, crashing through her with an intensity that made her whole body convulse.
He didn't let up. His mouth stayed on her, his fingers kept moving, drawing out her pleasure until she was gasping and trying to pull away from the oversensitivity.
But his hands on her thighs held her in place, and he started building her up again before the first orgasm had even fully faded.
"Too much," she managed, her hands finding his hair, trying to pull him away. "I can't—"
"You can." His fingers curled inside her again, finding that spot with unerring accuracy. "And you will."
The second orgasm built faster, her body already primed, every nerve oversensitive. But this time he didn't ease her into it. His free hand pressed down on her lower stomach, adding pressure that made everything more intense, while his mouth worked her with focused purpose.
When she came the second time, it was harder, more desperate, her whole body going rigid as pleasure crashed through her. She heard herself making sounds she'd never made before, desperate and broken and utterly his.
He pulled back slightly, giving her a moment to breathe, but his fingers remained inside her, moving in slow, lazy circles that kept her on edge despite the oversensitivity.
"One more," he said, and there was dark satisfaction in his voice.
"I can't—" But even as she said it, she could feel her body responding to him, the need building again despite her protests.
He shifted his position, kneeling between her legs, and used his free hand to hook one of her legs over his shoulder. The new angle let his fingers go deeper, and when he added a third, stretching her, she gasped at the sensation.
His thumb found her clit again, circling with firm pressure while his fingers worked inside her, and his mouth dropped to her inner thigh, biting down hard enough to make her cry out.
The combination of pain and pleasure, of being stretched and filled while he marked her skin with his teeth, pushed her toward the edge faster than she thought possible.
But this time, instead of the sharp peak of before, the orgasm built slowly, a rolling wave that seemed to go on and on, leaving her shaking and gasping and completely undone.
When it finally faded, she was boneless, her whole body trembling with aftershocks. Eliam withdrew his fingers carefully and moved up to gather her against his chest, his hand stroking through her hair.
"Three," he murmured against her temple. "Better. But I'm not finished with you yet."
Not finished? What more could he possibly—
Before she could speak he was already shifting, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him in one smooth motion. His hands settled on her hips, positioning her so she straddled him.
She could feel how hard he was beneath her, and despite her body's protests that it was too much, too sensitive, she felt heat pooling low in her belly again.
His hands guided her up slightly, positioning her over him. "Take me in," he commanded. "Slowly."
She lowered herself onto him with trembling thighs, gasping at the stretch. She was so sensitive that every inch felt magnified, pleasure bordering on too much but not quite crossing that line. When she was fully seated, she had to pause, breathing hard, adjusting to the fullness.
"Look," Eliam said, one hand leaving her hip to turn her face to the side.
She'd forgotten about the mirror. It stood near the wardrobe, tall and ornate, and from this angle she could see everything.
See herself straddling him, her thighs spread wide, her body marked with his teeth and fingers.
See the way her breasts moved with each ragged breath, nipples still red from his attention.
See the flush that spread across her chest and throat, the autumn marks standing out stark against her skin.
See the way he looked at her, eyes dark with possession and hunger.
"Watch yourself take me," he said, his voice rough. "I want you to see what you look like when you're mine."
His hands on her hips urged her up, then pulled her back down, and she watched in the mirror as her body moved, as she took him deep. The sight was obscene and intimate all at once, and she couldn't look away.
She found her pace, rolling her hips in a way that had them both gasping. The oversensitivity from before made every movement almost unbearably intense, pleasure building faster than she thought possible after already coming three times.