Chapter 27 #2
"Every time you moved," he continued, his breath hot against her neck, "every little shift of your hips, every soft sigh… do you have any idea what kind of torture that's been?"
Briar shook her head.
The careful control he'd been maintaining cracked like ice in spring. One moment she was on her side, the next he'd flipped her onto her back with inhuman speed, looming over her with eyes gone feral. Not the cold control she knew, but something wilder and barely contained.
"Hours," he repeated, and now she could see what those hours had cost him. His pupils were blown wide, a muscle jumping in his jaw, hands trembling where they braced on either side of her head. "Do you know what I've been telling myself? Lies. Pretty lies about warmth and healing and necessity."
She felt his gaze travel down her body, knew he was taking in her flushed skin, her peaked nipples, the way her thighs had parted without her conscious decision.
"But this?" His hand traced from her throat down between her breasts, over her stomach, stopping just above where she ached for him.
"This is the truth. You've been rubbing against me like a cat in heat, and I've been pretending I didn't want to pin you down and take you again and again, until you screamed. "
She reached for him but he caught her wrist.
"No. No touching. Not yet. I've been exercising control for hours while you tortured me. Now it's my turn."
Roots erupted from the dirt at his silent command. She felt them wrap around one wrist, then the other, drawing her arms above her head and holding them there. The living wood pulsed warm against her skin, thrumming with his magic.
"Much better," he murmured. "Now, where were we?"
His hands returned to her body, exploring with devastating slowness.
She felt one trace the curve of her breast while the other mapped her ribs, her stomach, the sensitive hollow of her hip.
He circled her nipples but didn't touch them directly.
She arched, trying to direct his touch where she needed it, but he stayed just out of reach.
"So responsive," he murmured, finally brushing his thumbs over both peaked nipples at once. The cry that escaped her echoed in the hollow. "And I haven't even properly touched you yet."
His breath ghosted over her breast while his hands continued their exploration—one gripping her thigh, the other tracing patterns on her neglected breast. She squirmed, trying to lift herself to his mouth, but he pulled back. She could see his dark smile even in the dim light.
"Patience. You made me wait hours. You can wait minutes."
But his control was fracturing. She could see it in the way his hands shook slightly as he traced patterns on her skin. Feel it in the tension radiating from his body. He was holding on by threads.
When his mouth finally closed over her nipple, those threads snapped audibly.
He sucked hard, teeth grazing, and her back bowed off the furs. His hand found her other breast, kneading roughly, causing her to cry out wordlessly.
"Is this what you wanted?" He pulled back just enough to speak. "When you pressed against me? When you made those breathy little moans?"
Was it? She couldn’t be sure anymore, she didn’t know where his desire ended and hers began. What she knew with certainty was that she didn’t want him to stop.
"Yes," she gasped, still trying to free her wrists, to touch him. "Yes, please—"
"Please what?" He moved lower, pressing biting kisses down her stomach.
"You," she managed. "I want you. Need you."
"Where?" He spread her thighs roughly, settling between them. "Here?" His fingers traced her inner thigh, so close but not close enough. "Tell me."
"Inside me," she practically sobbed. "Please, I need you—"
She couldn't finish the thought because he'd finally touched her, one finger tracing through her wetness with deliberate care. "So responsive already." His voice had roughened. "Is this from now, or were you already aching for me in your sleep?"
Briar lost her words entirely as he found her clit, circling with precision that spoke of careful attention to her responses. Her hips lifted seeking more, but he maintained that maddening lightness.
"I asked you a question."
"Both," she managed at last. "I don't know. Please—"
"You almost died today." The words came out harsh as he slid two fingers inside her, the sudden intrusion making her cry out and clench around him immediately. "Almost drowned saving me from something that couldn't have truly harmed me."
He set a deliberate pace, achingly slow, while his thumb found her clit again with just enough pressure to torment but not satisfy. She was already aching, already climbing, but he held her at that precipice with calculated control.
"Do you know what I thought when you went under?" He stretched her further with a third finger, the fullness making her gasp. "When the current took you?"
She could only shake her head, beyond speech as he worked her with careful intensity.
"I thought I'd never have this again." He curved his fingers, finding that place inside that made her vision blur. "Never watch you fall apart beneath me or feel you grip me like this. Never hear you call my name when you're desperate."
He withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving her gasping and empty.
"I'm going to taste every inch of you," he said, the matter-of-fact tone making her whole body clench with anticipation. "I'm going to use my mouth on you until you can't remember anything but how this feels."
When his tongue found her center, she cried out at the intensity.
There was no gentle exploration. His mouth claimed her with desperate hunger, tongue flat and then pointed, learning her responses and using them against her.
When she writhed beneath him, overwhelmed by sensation, he held her steady, his grip on her thighs keeping them spread wide, positioning her exactly where he wanted her.
He took his time, building her up again and again only to ease back, until she was trembling and incoherent. When he finally stopped teasing, when he gave her what she needed with focused intensity, she came apart with a cry that filled the hollow.
But he didn't stop.
"Again," he commanded against her oversensitive flesh. "You tortured me for hours. You can give me more than one."
He was relentless, working her with mouth and fingers driving her to peak again before she'd even recovered from the first. The second orgasm hit harder, tearing his name from her throat as she fought against the roots holding her wrists.
The bonds finally released her, sinking back into the earth. Eliam rose over her, eyes dark with need.
"Touch me," he commanded. "Show me what you craved when you moved against me in your dreams."
Her hands found him immediately, tracing the lean muscle of his chest, the defined lines of his abdomen, before wrapping around his cock. He was impossibly hard, already wet at the tip. Her first stroke was tentative, testing, but when his hips jerked involuntarily, she grew bolder.
She found a rhythm that had his breathing turning ragged, his hands fisting in the furs as he fought for control. Another stroke, twisting at the tip, and she felt him pulse in her grip.
"Enough," he growled, catching her wrist just as she'd started another torturous pull. His control hung by a thread, eyes wild. "I need—"
He didn't finish, just hooked her legs over his arms and drove into her with one powerful thrust.
They both cried out. The stretch burned exquisitely despite his earlier attention, but her body was ready for him, slick and welcoming, already gripping him tight.
"This," he gritted out, holding himself still though she could feel the tension vibrating through him.
"Move," she pleaded.
He withdrew almost completely before driving back in, setting a relentless rhythm that had her nails digging into his shoulders. The angle was devastating, letting him reach places that made coherent thought impossible.
"Look at me," he commanded when her eyes began to close. "I want to see you. Want to watch what I do to you."
She met his gaze and found something that stole her breath. Not just hunger or need, but something raw and possessive, something that looked almost like fear.
"You don't get to die," he said, each word emphasized by his hips driving forward. "You don't get to leave. Not when you make me feel—"
He cut himself off, claiming her mouth in a fierce kiss instead.
When she made him feel what? The question dissolved in sensation. She was building toward another peak, impossibly. The weight of him, the depth of his thrusts, the way he consumed her with that kiss, it was beyond overwhelming.
When he finally released her mouth, she was gasping, desperate.
Suddenly he was pulling out, flipping their positions with that inhuman strength. Before she could process the change, he had her straddling him, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
"Move for me," he commanded, voice wrecked. "Show me how you would have taken me if you'd been awake. If you'd been brave enough to take what you wanted."
She sank down onto him with a broken moan. The new angle was devastating, letting him hit even deeper. His hands guided her at first, showing her how to roll her hips, how to rise and fall in a way that had them both gasping.
"That's it," he encouraged.
Briar found her rhythm, bracing her hands on his chest as she rode him. The position gave her control, let her find exactly the right angle, the perfect pressure. His hands moved to her breasts, pinching her nipples in time with her movements.
"Look at you," he said, voice destroyed. "Taking me so well. So perfect. Mine."
"Yes," she gasped, movements becoming erratic as she climbed higher. "Yours."
"Forever," he insisted. "Say it."
"Forever," she sobbed. "Always, forever—"
He sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around her, changing the angle again. Now they were face to face, breathing each other's air as she continued to ride him. One of his hands tangled in her hair, the other still gripping her hip.
"Come for me," he commanded against her mouth. "Shatter around me like you've been wanting to for hours. Show me what I almost lost in that river."
The combination of his words, his hands, the perfect angle—she peaked with a scream that he swallowed with his kiss. Her whole body convulsed, clenching around him so hard he had to hold her hips still.
Only when she was trembling with aftershocks did he let himself follow, driving into her three more times before spilling inside her with a roar of her name.
They collapsed together onto the furs, still joined, both shaking with the intensity of what had just happened. He kept her close, like she might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly.
"Hours," he said finally against her hair. "Hours of that torture."
"Sorry?" she offered weakly, though they both knew she wasn't.
"No." He pressed kisses to her temple, her cheek, surprisingly tender after the desperation. "But next time you want me, just say so. Don't torment me while you sleep."
"Next time," she repeated, and felt him smile against her skin.
"Yes," he said simply. "Next time."
They lay there in the afterglow, both pretending this was simple. Just bodies seeking warmth. Just need after near loss. Just physical.
But the way he held her, possessive and protective and something softer he'd never name, told a different story. And the way she curled into him, trusting and sated and home, confirmed what they both knew but wouldn't say.
This was becoming something neither had planned for.
Something that would hurt when it was inevitably torn away.