62. Harper
62
HARPER
D imitrius grinned wickedly and a rumble escaped him as he hooked an arm around Harper’s waist and pulled her closer. In the next moment, his mouth captured hers with a bruising kiss of need and want. Harper moaned as his sinful lips teased hers apart and the velvet warmth of his tongue brushed hers, delivering instant release—and a rush of liquid fire that chased through every vein.
Harper’s body moulded into his and the clothes fell forgotten from her hand as she raked a hand up through his perfect hair, undoing him as he undid her—scraping his teeth across her lip as he took it into his mouth, sucked, and released. Pressure built in her core. Her body felt aflame with his touch—one hand holding her waist firmly through the towel and the other sliding up to grip her jaw. That firm hand tilted her up to him so he could devour her. Her toes curled into the thick fur under foot, and had he not been holding her up, her knees would have given way. Her towel fell between them as they moved with each other—and when he realised and withdrew, leaving a cold absence on her glistening lips, he froze.
The noise he made was utterly feral as he glanced down to see her naked form before him. His indecent gaze raked down her, from the slicked wet hair trailing over her shoulders, to her bare stomach and below—snagging when he swept his attention up again and found her hard nipples pebbled against the shock of cool air.
A yelp escaped her as Dimitrius swept her into his arms, lifting her so her chest was level with his face and his hands gripped her bare backside. She clamped her legs around him, squeezing harder than she intended to and letting out a ragged cry as his hot mouth found one hard nipple, enveloping it in warmth and wetness. He swirled his tongue around it, grazing it oh so lightly with his teeth. It was an explosion of sensation that blinded her for a second as every nerve lit incandescent with pleasure at his attention. She arched into his touch, pressing closer, but Dimitrius would not be rushed as he switched his focus from that breast, lavishing just the same on her other nipple as he feasted upon her.
Then, they were moving—and the world tilted. The soft bed rushed up to meet her as Dimitrius laid her amongst the covers and settled between her legs. The divinely solid weight of him took her breath away for a moment—and then he pressed into her, an unmistakeable hardness bulging into her core. She whimpered, so sensitive even that graze of fabric felt like too much. His mouth covered hers and stole the sound away. Propping himself up on one elbow, his other hand found her breast and he palmed it. A finger rubbed over the tip of her nipple, sending lightning through her, and then he squeezed, edging that pleasure with pain.
Fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, Harper let out a sound of frustration against his lips. The clasps gave way, and she plunged her hands into the depths of his shirt to run her palms over the planes of his inked chest and shoulders, revelling in the dips and peaks of muscle and bone she found there before her hands rose of their own accord to tangle in his hair and pull him closer still. Harper could not kiss him fiercely enough to convey the need raging through her—this was everything the kiss against the tree could not have been. Here, there was no need for secrecy and silence, no need for swiftness and no room for shame or guilt. As he consumed her mouth, with every despicably irresistible flick of his tongue and nip of his teeth, she came undone yet more.
This was nothing like the fumbling and inexperienced encounters she had shared with Alric where her feelings for him had outweighed the pleasure he had served her. He had been a boy barely into manhood then—but Dimitrius was undoubtably a male, and he knew how to play her body like an instrument. Even the mistaken kiss she had shared with Aedon had held none of this promise of flamed desire.
Aedon .
The thought of him sent her blood ice cold. Aedon. Brand. Erika. Ragnar. Her friends. Suffering at the hands of their captor—whilst she selfishly took her pleasure in relative safety and comfort. All the desire raging inside her ceased at once.
“Stop!” she gasped against all the instincts of her body which had writhed under his touch and come alight at his attentions just moments ago. She pushed at him—but she could not budge his bulk. And yet, at her word, he stopped instantly.
“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” he demanded, evaluating her quickly, efficiently—and finding nothing wrong. “What is it?” His hand slipped from her breast to cup her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered closed as his touch—now so gentle—threatened to undo her anew. But guilt coiled inside her, feeding on her doubts.
“I can’t do this.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I want to, even though I shouldn’t—but I can’t. I could not live with myself, taking my pleasure with you, here, now, whilst my friends suffer.”
Dimitrius quickly masked his disappointment, but she had seen it slide across his features. “As you wish.” His words were restrained as he pulled away and stood, leaving her naked upon the bed. She scrambled off it to retrieve the towel, wrapping it around herself. Still, his attention ensnared her and she felt pinned in his gaze. It made her skin crawl as the discomfort bubbled to an unbearable strength, as though it would claw itself free of her skin if it could.
Her eyes dropped to his fingers. They deftly rebuttoned his collar, hiding away the shadowy ink on his chest. “You’re a better person than I. I would have taken you all the same.” His admission sent a thrill through her. A dangerously tempting one. “Why should you deny yourself pleasure for the terrible things outside your control?”
She shook her head and folded her arms across her belly. If he tried to unpick her, she would spiral into madness. “I’m sorry.”
Something ticked in his jaw. “No. I’m sorry. I should not have taken advantage of you.”
“You did not. I gave myself freely.” And she did not regret it, which only made the guilt coil around her heart all the tighter for her selfishness. She wanted him—truly—but she could not.
“Hmm. This was a mistake—clearly. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to lose control. It won’t happen again.” Dimitrius stooped to pick his jacket from the back of the nearby chair and draped it over an arm. “I’ll take my leave. Rest now. Soon, he will return, and you will be summoned. You have said you will not obey him, yet I do not think you will have any choice in what happens next. I will protect you when I can, but neither of us can defy him.”
Any hint of desire was quenched with the mention of Saradon. The ever-present trepidation squirmed around her stomach at his words. As Dimitri left, she wondered what would pass when she was next brought before Saradon, but quickly pushed the thought from her mind. The fear of it was as bad as the event itself. It would not do to dwell on it.
No—now she had something more consuming to worry about that seized her body with an entirely different symphony of feelings. She had nearly just given herself to the Spymaster of Pelenor. And what was worse? She still wanted to, despite the fact that it was definitely a mistake, which he had admitted. With a groan she toppled face first into the bed. But even the covers could not silence her angst and the empty room had no answers.