Chapter 30 #3
She turned to face him fully, catching his face between her hands. "I need you. Not just your touch. You. The way you make me feel desired. Wanted. Like I'm—"
He kissed her before she could finish, swallowing her words with his mouth.
His teeth caught her lower lip as his hand finally found her center.
Two fingers pushed inside without warning, and her hips bucked at the sudden fullness.
He curved them just right, pressing against that sensitive spot that made her vision white out at the edges.
"You are desired," he growled against her mouth, his fingers withdrawing almost completely before thrusting deep. "You are wanted." Another withdrawal, another thrust that made her inner muscles clench desperately around him. "You are mine."
His thumb pressed against her clit, not the frantic circling she'd attempted but slow, deliberate pressure that had her thighs trembling.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescents in his skin.
He didn't watch her with detached fascination, his pupils were blown wide, his breathing as ragged as hers, a flush spreading down his chest.
"That's it," he encouraged as her inner muscles began to flutter. "I can feel how close you are. Should I let you come now? Or should I show you what three days felt like for me?"
"Now," she gasped, hips moving against his hand. "Please, now. I can't—"
"You can." He slowed his movements to torturous strokes, his fingers barely moving inside her now, keeping her suspended on that knife's edge between pleasure and frustration. His pupils dilated as her hips chased the friction he denied her. "But I find myself equally impatient."
He moved down her body with the focused intent of someone who knew exactly what they wanted.
His hands gripped her thighs, positioning them wide, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh.
The first touch of his tongue made her whole body jolt, and when her hips lifted instinctively, his forearm pressed across her stomach.
"Stay still," he murmured against her. The words sent vibrations through her sensitive flesh. "Let me."
His fingers curled inside her, finding exactly where she needed him most, making her breath stutter and catch. When she pulled his hair particularly hard, a low growl rumbled from his chest. The sound traveled through her body, making her inner muscles clench reflexively around his fingers.
Her thighs began to tremble, that telltale quiver he'd learned to recognize. Her breathing went shallow, quick little gasps that told him she was close. He sealed his lips around her clit and sucked, fingers pressing deeper at the same moment.
Her spine left the mattress entirely, back bowing as the orgasm rolled through her.
The mark on her arm blazed hot, like being branded by pleasure itself.
He kept his mouth on her, tongue moving in slow, firm strokes that pulled aftershock after aftershock from her shaking body until her hands pushed weakly at his shoulders.
He moved back up her body with fluid grace, his chin still wet with her arousal. His hand caught her jaw, tilting her face up when her eyes had gone unfocused and hazy. "Look at me," he said. "I want to see you when I take you."
"Eliam—"
"Three days was too long." He notched himself at her entrance, one hand braced beside her head. She could see the tension in his forearm, the way his fingers pressed into the mattress. His other hand gripped her hip, thumb pressing into the hollow there. "I won't allow that distance again."
He pushed inside in one controlled thrust. His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping there as her body gripped him. She saw his control in the rigid line of his shoulders, the careful way he held himself still while she adjusted.
"Mine," he said, withdrawing slowly until only the tip remained, then sliding back in with deliberate intent. "My chosen companion." Another withdrawal, another thrust that had her nails digging crescents into his shoulders.
"My beautiful thief." His pace increased, each stroke deep and claiming. "I’ve spent days thinking about this," he said, beginning to move. "About you, warm and willing beneath me."
"Is that all you thought about?" she gasped as he hit particularly deep. "Me beneath you?"
He withdrew until only the tip remained, then snapped his hips forward, making her cry out. "No. I thought about you in the cave." His eyes darkened with the memory. "How you looked above me on those furs, taking control. How you moved when you finally stopped fighting what you wanted."
Before she could respond, his hands gripped her waist and he rolled them. The world spun, but he kept them joined, her knees suddenly bracketing his hips. The new angle made her gasp—he pressed deeper this way, against places that sent sparks up her spine.
"Move," he commanded, his fingers pressing into the curves of her hips, already guiding her into a rhythm.
Heat flooded her face, but her body was already obeying. Her palms flattened against his chest for leverage as she found her rhythm—slow at first, testing, then faster as his hands encouraged her movements. His abs tensed beneath her, hips lifting to meet hers.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes tracking over her, taking in the sway of her breasts and the way the mark seemed to glow in the moonlight. "Look at you. Covered in my mark, taking what you need from me."
"Eliam," she gasped, her movements faltering as pleasure coiled tighter in her belly.
He sat up suddenly, the angle changing again. Her cry was swallowed by his mouth as his arms wrapped around her, holding her flush against his chest while she continued to move. She could feel his heartbeat racing against hers.
"Do you know what you've done to me?" The words came out rough against her throat. "Three days away and I couldn't think of anything else. I missed—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching as if the admission physically hurt. "I missed you."
"You missed this," she corrected softly. "The sex. The—"
"No." His hand tangled in her hair, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I missed you. Your voice. Your stubbornness. The way you argue with me." His grip tightened. "I wanted you. Not this. You."
She searched his face for the lie but found only the quiet truth.
The words struck hard. Eliam, this fae lord who claimed she was merely property, who insisted on ownership rather than affection, had missed her, not just her body, her. Briar’s heart stuttered at the raw honesty in his voice.
"I want to stay," she heard herself say against his throat, the words pulled from her by his confession. "I'm done fighting it... I want to stay with you. To be yours."
His whole body went rigid. For a moment, they were frozen, her confession hanging between them like a physical thing. Then his hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to look at him. His eyes searched hers, dark and intense.
"Say it again."
"I want to stay. I choose to stay. With you."
Something shifted in his expression—surprise, satisfaction, and something deeper he probably couldn't name.
His grip tightened, and suddenly she was on her back again, his weight pressing her into the mattress.
The careful control was gone, his thrusts grew rough, almost animalistic.
Her nails raked down his back as she met him stroke for stroke.
"Mine," he growled against her throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "My chosen one. My little thief who stole into my realm and made me miss her. Made me count hours like a lovesick fool." His fingers found her clit, circling with desperate pressure. "Never again. Three days was too long."
The possessive desperation in his voice and the perfect pressure of his fingers, coupled with her own need, proved to be too much.
Her back arched as the second orgasm crashed through her, more intense than the first. She felt him follow, his hips stuttering as he pressed deep, her name breaking from his lips.
They collapsed together, breathing heavy in the quiet room.
He stayed inside her for a long moment, his weight carefully balanced on his forearms, forehead pressed to hers.
Then slowly, carefully, he withdrew and gathered her against his chest. She draped herself over him, feeling his racing heartbeat gradually slow beneath her ear.
"The ball is tomorrow," she said eventually, her fingers tracing the lean muscles of his chest.
"The day after," he corrected, his lips brushing her hair. "Tomorrow is ours. I need to ensure you're properly prepared. Can't have you embarrassing me with incorrect dance steps."
She could hear something lighter in his voice, not quite teasing, but close. "Is that the only reason?"
His arms tightened around her, one hand splaying possessively across her lower back. "No," he admitted quietly. "But it's the one I'll tell myself."
The mark pulsed warm against her skin, and the warmth in her chest seemed to answer it with its own steady rhythm. As exhaustion pulled her under, safe in his embrace, Briar tried not to think about how this might be the last night she had this. The last time she felt chosen rather than trapped.
For now, she was home.