Chapter 18 #3
He rolls us in one smooth motion so that I’m lying on top and he’s underneath me, his body a warm, hard plane beneath mine.
“I’ll crush you,” I say automatically as my legs slide on either side of his narrow hips, straddling him. I prop myself up with one hand and start to lift off, but he just chuckles—low and dark and sexy—and pulls me back into place with both hands on my hips.
“Immortal god here.” His hands glide up the sides of my hips to my waist and squeeze possessively. “And you feel amazing. You have no fucking idea.”
He shifts slightly beneath me so that I feel his shaft—hot and hard—against my wet sex. I hiss in surprise, pleasure jolting through me.
When did he pull himself out? Does that mean he trusts that I want him? Even though it’s in fact more complicated than that? And is that a conversation we need to have before we do this?
“Remus,” I start to say, trying to gather my scattered thoughts.
“Do you want this?” he interrupts me to ask, his hands stilling on my waist. His eyes search mine in the lamplight. “Do you still want me?”
“God, yes,” I say honestly. Because I do. I really, really do.
Just the tip of him slides inside—thick and perfect—and we both groan in unison. He doesn’t push for more, though. With me on top like this, I know he’s giving me the space and control to guide everything.
Don’t think, he said. More like don’t overthink.
Because yes, I want him. I want him exactly like this.
And it’s so easy and right to shift my hips so that he settles in an inch and then another inch. Stretching me. Filling me. My arms slide against the mattress underneath his arms and then back up to clasp around his broad shoulders. He wraps his arms around my back, holding me close.
“I could spend eternity like this,” he hisses in my ear, his breath hot against my neck.
I press my face against the crook of his neck and breathe him in—salt and musk and something uniquely him. “Me too.”
He moves his hands down my back slowly, reverently, and then begins to massage my full ass cheeks, guiding me as we begin to move together.
Oh god, he’s so thick. So perfect. It’s so satisfying feeling him fill me like this, hitting places deep inside that make my toes curl.
I don’t know how to describe it. It’s both fucking and making love at the same time. Dirty and sweet. Profane and sacred. The way he clutches me feels obscene. Yet the need I feel from him as he drags me down his huge cock and back up against his body in a way that hits my clit so perfectly—
He grips my neck to lift my face to his and then kisses me passionately, his tongue tangling with mine, tasting me. His other hand is still on my ass, guiding our rhythm as our motion continues. So in sync, him so hard and perfect inside me.
He breaks from my mouth just long enough to say breathlessly, “Everything makes sense when we’re like this.”
I couldn’t agree more. Even though he’s lighting up every pleasure nerve inside me—every single one firing at once—I don’t want to come yet. I just want to stay connected like this. I need this with him.
My hands on his chest curl, nails scratching lightly as I bear down on him, taking him deeper.
“Yes, honey,” he growls approvingly. “Just like that.”
Our hips move together sinuously, bodies dancing an ancient rhythm.
God, I only ever dreamed of it being like this.
My whole body clenches around him, his shaft inside me growing even thicker.
My fingernails dig into his chest harder.
I try to hold back my orgasm because I’m not ready to lose this moment with him yet.
But it’s like he can see it in my eyes—the desperation, the need to hold on.
“Give it to me, honey,” he commands, and then his lips are on mine again, swallowing my protest.
“Don’t go away again,” I say through our kisses, the words tumbling out. “I need you here.”
I see the pain hit in the way his eyebrows crumple, genuine anguish flashing across his features.
“I want to be with you more than anything,” he says fiercely. “Leaving you last time tore me apart.”
I feel guilty for bringing it up in this moment—for putting that pain on his face. Of course he didn’t want to leave. I clench around his cock deliberately, making him leap inside me. I stop moving even though it kills me a little, as close to climax as I am. Teetering on the edge.
He tries to shift my hips, but I shake my head stubbornly.
“I don’t want you to leave again.” I start to climb off him, shuddering as his cock shifts inside me with the movement.
But he merely rolls with me in one powerful motion, pinning me to the bed and thrusting deep inside. We both groan with how impossibly good it feels.
“If I go, I promise I’ll come back.” In the light from the moon streaming in through the window, I can see fierceness flash in his eyes—determination and something that looks like fear.
“This is messed up to be having this conversation with you hard inside me,” I point out breathlessly.
His cock leaps in response, and he rotates his groin to rub against my clit deliberately. “I think it’s the perfect place to be having this conversation.” He grins, bright teeth flashing in the moonlight.
I laugh despite everything, relaxing back against the pillows, legs falling open wide to accommodate him. “Of course you do.”
He reaches down and lifts my knee, hooking it over his shoulder so he can settle in even deeper. Then he thrusts lazily in and out several times in a way that has my eyelids fluttering shut, stars bursting behind them.
I bite my bottom lip hard to keep from crying out and waking the whole castle.
“Fuck, I love the way your body responds to me,” he says reverently, watching my face.
I try to open my eyes but only succeed in clenching and unclenching my pussy muscles around him, luxuriating in the feel of the position as he slides in and out again. Finally, blearily, I manage to look up at him looming sexily above me—all muscles and wings and focused intensity.
“Well, I guess it’s not the worst way to talk,” I finally manage to gasp out. “But I can hardly think clearly. What are we going to do about your brother?”
“Which one?” he asks with another lazy thrust that steals my breath.
He reaches the hilt—well, as far as he can reach inside me anyway.
When I look down, I see there’s still a few inches of his massive cock sticking out of me.
Then he rolls his hips expertly so that I feel pressure at the start of my cervix.
And it makes me spasm with unexpected pleasure, like he’s found another G-spot when he hits one of those sides.
He reaches down and strums my clit with his thumb—slow circles that wind the tension tighter—until I’m writhing beneath him, making inarticulate sounds.
I’m a millisecond from climax when he suddenly pulls his hips back and removes his thumb, leaving me gasping and trembling from want.
It takes several more moments for my head to clear enough to remember what we were talking about. There was something important I was trying to ask. I blink blearily up at him, finally grasping the thought.
“R-R-Romulus!” I manage to stutter triumphantly. “What are we going to do about R-Romulus?”
Remus’s face sours immediately, his expression darkening. “I don’t see that we need to do anything at all about him.”
I suck in a breath and attempt some fortitude, trying to gather my scattered wits. “When you’re not here, he is. I’m getting to know him, and I wish there was some way for the two of you to just talk it out so we could find a way to all work together—”
“You know what?” Remus says, bending down low so that his voice is a raspy whisper in my ear. “I think that’s enough talking for now.”
And then his thumb moves back to my swollen, aching clit and starts strumming in earnest.
“But don’t you think—”
That’s as far as I get before he does that thing with his cock again—hitting all my buttons at once and thrusting upward while he really works my clit, pressing downward with just the right pressure.
Until I’m consumed with sensation and pleasure and the man on top of me. Nothing exists but this.
He kisses my lips and then down my neck, where he begins to suckle my pulse point—tongue and teeth and suction—in a way that, combined with all the other sensations—
I scream out my release into the night, not caring anymore who hears. It pulses on and on, the most endless, deep pleasure that wracks my entire body in waves.
Remus pulls out of me with a groan but keeps working my clit with his hand, drawing out my orgasm.
He hugs me against his body with his other arm, and I grasp him back desperately, my hand reaching blindly for his shaft.
I want him inside me again, climaxing with me.
Now that I have the birth control, I’m not worried about pregnancy.
Layden said that unlike human birth control, it starts working instantly.
I want to feel him come and see the release on his face.
When my fingers glance against his cock, it’s still stiff as a board—hot and pulsing. Yet he pulls away from me.
I’m still shuddering with aftershocks when he rolls to the other side of the bed.
“Remus,” I reach for him, confused and sated and wanting more.
“I can’t,” he says, voice choked with strain. “Last time it took me from you.”
He slants his face down but lifts it back up so I can see his pleasure-strained eyes—dark and desperate—as he tucks his hard, veined shaft back into his pants with obvious difficulty.
“And I’ll do anything to stay.”
“Baby, come here,” I say, opening my arms. He did all that and isn’t even going to come? Is he holding his pleasure at bay so he can stay awake? So he won’t switch back to Romulus?
Oh my god. So many emotions choke my chest—gratitude and guilt and something that feels dangerously like love.
I want to hold him tight all night long. And longer. Maybe even forever. A thought that should probably scare me more than it does.
But he was right. Everything makes sense when we’re like this.
He pulls me into his arms instead, and I melt against his chest. I think about what he said about doing anything to stay. I should ask him if he has anything left in the flask he got from Layden. I should leap out of bed right now to get it, in case he disappears this very moment.
But... won’t that just make it like when I first met him? Yes, I’d get him for an extended period, only to lose him again for god knows how long when it runs out.
Isn’t it better to get to know the usual rhythm of his and Romulus’s switches so we can all learn how to actually live together? If we actually want this to last.
Remus might not want to talk about his brother, but after the heights of pleasure he just sent me to, all my thoughts and worries are suddenly rushing back in like an unstoppable tidal wave. I’d rather start sorting out how we might actually make this work long-term.
“You’ll always come back,” I say with more confidence than I feel as he strokes his hands through my hair in long, soothing motions.
“You know,” I try, biting my bottom lip before going on, “I could be a sort of go-between if there are things you want to talk to Romulus about. I think if the two of you tried to communicate a little, then maybe we could all—”
But Remus just lets out a great scoff and hugs me closer to him, almost too tight. “I just got much-needed privacy from that bastard by separating our memories. The last thing I want is to communicate with him.”
I huff out a disappointed breath, but Remus doesn’t seem to notice as he squeezes me tighter against his chest. “It’s just you and me here.”
I relax against him despite my frustration and try to fight my eyes fluttering closed at how good it feels in his arms—safe and wanted and home. I want to stay awake and hoard every single moment with him, memorize every detail.
But suddenly the weight of all the day’s events—the swimming, the emotional confusion, the mind-blowing sex—slams into me all at once. My eyes pop open, determined to stay awake, only to blink slower and slower, growing heavier with each breath.
They close several moments later as Remus keeps strumming his hands through my hair in that hypnotic rhythm, lulling me toward sleep despite my best efforts.
“Just you and me,” he murmurs again, his voice getting distant.
It’s the last thing I hear before I drift off into darkness.