Chapter 38 — Rhiannon #2
He rises over me, bracing himself up with his forearms on either side of my head, and the full length of him presses against my stomach. Hard, insistent, slick where I denied him release. My wolf isn’t settled. She continues to pace, wound up and hungry, as if my orgasm was merely an opening act.
His forehead drops against mine. Our breaths tangle.
“If something happens tomorrow—”
“Don’t.” I hold a finger to his lips.
He catches my wrist, holding it suspended.
“I need to say this. If I don’t come down from that mountain, I want you to know.
” He releases my hand and extends his forward, threading his fingers through my hair.
“I don’t regret a single second of my time with you.
You’ve made me happier than I ever thought possible.
And even if the worst happens. . .” His thumb traces my jaw. “It’s been worth it to be with you.”
I feel the bond between us swell in my chest like a rising tide I can’t hold back. You’re mine. The Moon Goddess chose you for me. I’ll never let anything happen to you.
Everything I can’t say presses against the inside of my ribs. I don’t want to think about tomorrow yet.
“I didn’t find you just to lose you.” I grip his jaw, forcing his eyes to lock onto mine. “We’re coming back together.”
I pull him down and kiss him before either of us can say more.
His hips roll against me subconsciously. His cock slides against my slick heat and the sensation fires through both of us. A gasp escapes us both, conveying a shared need that obliterates the boundary between wanting and taking.
I arch against him, eliminating any possible doubt about what I need from him.
He pushes inside me and the world stops. Neither of us breathes.
The mind-link amplifies everything tenfold.
The pressure, the fullness, the aching pleasure I feel registers through every nerve of him while he’s inside me, and simultaneously I experience what being inside me does to him.
The warmth, the grip of my walls around him.
There’s an all-consuming feeling between us that he is exactly where he belongs.
Our merged experience makes every sensation recursive.
My pleasure feeds his. His feeds mine. The loop strengthens with each breath.
He moves slowly, pushing himself in deeper. His rhythm is deliberate. His eyes hold mine and neither of us looks away.
My wolf rises closer to the surface. Not fighting, but leaning in, savoring, her presence a warm weight behind my sternum that grows with every shared heartbeat.
“Rhiannon,” Ethan moans.
I wrap my legs around him and pull him in deeper while a broken sound escapes me. His rhythm falters for a beat, and I’m immediately desperate for him to continue. The surge of possessive devotion behind it floods me so completely I can’t separate his need from mine.
He shifts his weight on his forearms and drives deeper. Harder. The new angle buries his cock so deep my breath locks in my throat. He repeatedly thrusts with a punishing rhythm that rattles the headboard against the stone behind it.
Goddess.
I stop thinking. My hips automatically rise to meet each thrust, chasing the building pressure.
There’s only the slick fullness of him, the exquisite burn of my walls stretching, every impact of his hips against mine causing my vision to blur around the edges.
I plant my palms and flip us, pulling him up so I’m in his lap: face to face, chest to chest. Our matched heartbeats pound against each other. The angle changes as I sink down onto him with a control that makes us both groan.
“You feel...” The words dissolve on my tongue. I roll my hips and his hands grip my waist. “You feel like you were made to be inside me.”
Because I was. His thought bleeds through the mind-link, unguarded. I don’t think he meant to send it, and the earnestness of it punches the breath from my lungs. He doesn’t even know.
I rock against him, finding the rhythm, slowly rolling circles with my hips that push him deep before pulling back. His cock fills me perfectly each time I sink back down, the stretch electrifying every nerve ending I possess.
Then, his mouth closes over my nipple while his hand grips my other breast, kneading hard, and I lose the rhythm entirely.
I can’t track what he’s doing. Sucking. Squeezing. Teeth grazing. He soothes me with his tongue. His hands and mouth cycle so seamlessly between my breasts that the sensations blur into one unbroken current of heat. My hips take over: moving faster, my movements becoming frantic.
My claws rake down his back — not deep enough to wound but enough to draw thin lines across his skin. He doesn’t flinch. His grip on my hips tightens hard enough to bruise, and I growl my approval against his mouth.
I smell myself on his skin and him on mine. Our scents braid into something new that my wolf recognizes as ours: a territory mapped in sweat and breath and the nectar of our mutual desire.