Chapter 13 #3
He is as spectacular as I remember. Dark golden skin covers hard, defined muscles.
Some of his imperfections were self-imposed, the tattoo on his bicep depicting the Lucent and Stigian crests as one and the horizontal ancient script running down his left side.
Other abnormalities to his body are the consequences of battle and a life growing up in a military camp.
It all combines to create a body I long to worship.
I guide him back into the blanket, and his lips quirk when he realizes I don’t plan to let him take charge of this moment.
He places one arm behind his head, and with his other, he tucks my hair behind my ear.
He silently watches as I untie his pants and press my lips to the trail of dark hair below his navel.
I draw my tongue over the lines on each of his hips that come together to form a deep V.
The pine and spice dance across my tastebuds.
Even the way this man tastes drives me wild.
My hand slips inside his pants and releases his hard cock from the tight confines of the leather.
I’m captivated by the way my palm slides down his soft skin and how his hips lift to meet the motion when I do it again.
Watching him find pleasure in my touch has me pressing my thighs together to appease the growing throb between them.
I brush my lips over him, my tongue darting out to taste the small drop of moisture on the tip.
“Fuck, Raelle,” he whispers, pulling my gaze to his.
The sound of my name slipping through his lips is so sweet. I need to hear it again.
With our eyes locked, I take him into my mouth.
The gold around his pupils grows bright like beams radiating from an eclipsed sun, and pure bliss takes residence on his handsome face.
His fingers tangle in my hair, holding to it like it can save him from slipping over the edge too soon.
But I have no plans to give him that release just yet.
I take my time relishing in his salty taste. My mouth and hand move together, taking him to the back of my throat and stroking him until he is rock hard. The muscles in his stomach flex and his head rolls back.
“Your pretty mouth feels so good,” he breathes, rocking his hips and sliding in farther.
I want to turn the burn deep in his pelvis into an inferno, make it a raging fire that will only be satisfied when he is buried deep inside me. I suck harder, faster, desperate to make him feel that way.
“Raelle,” he says, his voice a raspy plea. “Not like this.”
“Not like what?” I ask, dragging my tongue up the length of him.
He groans and thrusts into my mouth once. “I need to be inside of you.”
He doesn’t need to beg. Only one thing can satiate the ache at my center. I’ve wanted nothing as much as I want him right now.
With a small kiss, I release him from my hold and crawl up his body. Pressing my heated skin to his, I slide my hand between us and bring him to my entrance.
“Is this what you need?” I ask, running the head of his cock over my clit.
He grips the back of my neck and pulls my mouth to his. “Tell me you need it too.”
“I need you,” I confess, sinking down on him.
“Fuck, yes.”
When we are fully pressed together, I go still, finding delight in the stretch, the fullness, the intimate connection. It overwhelms me so much that I want to laugh and cry all at the same time. But mostly I want to move, to create a friction so powerful that we lose ourselves in each other.
“I love you,” I say again, my lips brushing his while I lift my hips and lower them.
His head tilts back and his lips parts. “Until my dying breath, Raelle.”
He grabs my waist, guiding me up and down.
We fit together like the Statera cast his body for the pleasure of mine.
My thighs rest perfectly over his hips, and my lips reach the sensitive skin at the curve of his neck.
His voice whispers softly in my ear, chanting the praises of what my body does to him.
Our heartbeats create a frantic rhythm, one pounding after the other, and our souls sing together an ethereal song that prickles my skin.
I could spend the rest of my life lost in the symphony conducted by our bond.
“I can’t believe the Statera made me yours,” he says before pressing a kiss over my heart.
“You are mine, and I am yours.”
“Say it again,” he commands.
I sit upright, bracing my palms to his chest. My hair curtains around us, swaying along with my rocking hips. “I am yours, Kyron.”
He lifts his ass from the blanket, plunging himself deep inside me again and again and again.
Tension low in my stomach flutters like butterflies trapped in a cage.
I match his movements and grind against his pelvis.
The friction is electric, sending a current through me.
My body chases after the sensation until the cage bursts open.
Beating wings vibrate throughout me and my body clenches around him, pulling him in with no plans of letting go.
I surrender to the waves of pleasure, my head tilting back. “Yes, Kyron. Yes.”
He bolts upright and captures my mouth with his.
As his tongue caresses mine, I wrap him in my arms and legs, digging my nails into his shoulders.
He swallows my moans, taking them all inside of him until he shudders against me.
Warmth spreads throughout me as he finds his own release, emptying it inside me.
I hold him tight, kissing his shoulder and rubbing the back of his neck until his body goes slack and we fall into the blankets again.
Despite the heat radiating from us, I nestle into him and kiss his chest. His fingers comb through my hair in lazy strokes as he stares at the rafters. Minutes pass, and the only sounds are his slowing breaths and his steady heartbeat beneath my ear.
“I never got to ask my question,” I finally say.
He looks down at me, and the corners of his lips tilt up. “By all means, I don’t want to fall short on our agreement. Ask away, princess.”
I drag my fingertip over the ink on his side and take a deep breath. “I know you didn’t siphon from me, but have you since you returned to Stigian?”
His muscles tense under my cheek. “Would it change things if I said I have?”
I contemplate his question, simmering in both possible answers. There is a response I want more than the other. My general. My parah. My Kyron wouldn’t succumb to the temptation. But if he did, my answer is irrefutable.
“No, it wouldn’t change anything. I understand you did it to survive under your mother’s rule, not because you wanted to.”
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “I didn’t siphon from anyone.”
Relief washes over me. Not so much for me, but for him. I’m glad he didn’t sacrifice a piece of his soul for the ruse of being Esmeray’s loyal son.
“After what my mother thought I siphoned from you, she was impressed that I showed such restraint with everyone else. Most in Stigian can’t go weeks without feeding from others.
She uses that addiction to control her people.
When you have what people crave, they’ll do anything for you. The Posseda is her greatest power.”
“She didn’t find it strange that you didn’t partake in amplifying your powers at all?”
“I found another way to show my interest in the sacred gift. I conducted the ceremonies and paired Khiros and Cyffreds.”
Even partaking in the smallest way would not sit well with me. I can’t imagine that it did with Kyron either.
“I don’t know if I could have done that. Just the sight of the Posseda makes my stomach turn,” I say.
“Trust me, I understand. I’ve held the stone, becoming familiar with the way power flows through it.”
“What did it feel like?”
He turns on his side, taking me with him, so we are face to face. His fingers fall to the swell of my breast, caressing their way down toward my nipple. “It feels a lot like the Eporri, a rush of untamed power. It wasn’t all bad, but it’s not my favorite thing to touch.”
Kyron runs his tongue down the trail mapped by his fingers, and I hitch my leg over his thigh. I grip his hair as he moves lower, anticipating the pull of his lips on my nipple. But it never comes.
A bell frantically rings through Basecamp.
Kyron slowly lifts his head, and we meet each other’s wide eyes, frozen in place. A chorus of horrific growls and squawks rip through what was a quiet night.