Chapter 56
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
RYOT
Sweet Serephelle, but her pleasure is the most incredible thing I’ve ever witnessed, the sight of it threatening to unravel my control again. I fight with every breath, with every touch, to focus on her pleasure and her passion and not take her now .
I want her drenched from coming on my hand, against my mouth, and around my cock.
Her face is bright with passion, but I want her whole body flushed with it, until her blood is on fucking fire.
She’s languid with pleasure, smiling in sleepy repose, but I want her exhausted, her entire body sated and limp.
“Did you take the contraception tonic?” I grit out.
She nods, her breasts swaying. I pull her higher, my mouth finding her perfect nipples.
I work them with my fingers and my tongue, first one and then the other, sucking and licking as her sweet sounds of pleasure build again.
I reach a hand down to her core and find her still achingly wet.
I push a finger inside and she drops her head to my shoulder, moaning right next to my ear.
When I add a second finger, my mouth still on her breast, she arches against me, trying to get closer to the source of the pleasure clawing through every nerve of her body.
She is so fucking tight. My cock is pulsing. I’m desperate for release, but I want her to come again. I bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood, needing the distraction of the pain and the metallic flavor of it in my mouth.
The only thought I can form—Not. Fucking. Yet.
She moans in disappointment when I remove my mouth from her breast, and her hands start sliding up the bed. Her intentions flash through me in an emotion so strong it’s nearly my own—she plans to fist her hands in my hair and bring my mouth back where she wants it. I grin. She’s incredible.
But before her hands can make it to my hair, I remove my fingers from inside her and grip her at the waist. She’s furious. Her hands flutter, like she doesn’t know which direction to go—to force my mouth back on her breasts or my fingers back inside her.
“Don’t stop!” she commands.
Not fucking likely.
I pull her up higher, arranging her so she’s straddling my face and then I put my mouth at her center.
This time, my rhythm is fast and hard, my tongue moving quickly against her already-swollen nub.
She screams, her fingers coming down to grip my hair so tightly that it hurts. Her thighs squeeze against my head.
Oh gods, I’ll never tire of tasting her.
The thought is terrifying, almost enough to have me stopping, pulling back.
But then she tumbles into orgasm, hard and fast, her sex already wet and swollen, her body primed for pleasure. I watch her from below, as she throws her head back in abandon, her breasts heaving with each breath. She’s so fucking beautiful.
She sways, sliding back down my body. Boneless.
Now.
I roll her over so quickly, she lets out a little squeak of surprise before she wraps her arms around my neck and smiles up at me.
She plays with my hair. I fucking love that.
I rise on my elbows, careful not to crush her, and drop my forehead against hers, my lips finding her mouth. I taste a hint of her surprise.
I ease inside her, and we groan.
“You’re so tight,” I mutter. I move slowly, giving her body time to adjust.
“Mmm,” she moans it, her hands moving from my hair to grab my ass. “More,” she demands.
But godsdammit she’s so small. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I grit out.
She smiles, wide and full. “There’s pain and then there’s this,” she says. “They’re not the same.” And she simultaneously raises her hips and draws me closer with her hands. I thrust forward, her tight sheath quivering around me.
“Oh gods,” she cries out, her hands tightening on my ass. She throws her head back again in pleasure.
Her gratification lights another fire. I move in a way that teases us both, working the pleasure back up to a fever pitch.
I pull out of her, nudging at her entrance again, before returning to her.
She’s soaked, and I find my rhythm picking up, driven by her hands and her cries of pleasure.
She raises her hips to meet me stroke for stroke.
“Ohmygods. Ohmygods,” she cries out, her words barely coherent, her legs coming up to wrap around my ass, pushing me deeper, her fingers moving to scrape down my back. “Mooooore,” she groans out.
I give her more. Faster, harder, deeper.
My vision grays at the edges, and my balls draw up for release. Not fucking yet .
I swoop down to capture her mouth with mine and move my hand between us to find her again. I press my thumb there, on that pearl of her pleasure.
She keens, screaming her fulfillment, sobbing it against my mouth.
I release with a roar as her walls spasm around me, milking me.
I drop my head next to hers, supporting my weight on my forearms. Her hands slide up and down my sweat-slicked back, her lips pressing little feverish kisses against my neck.
Her contentment rolls off her in waves. I’ll chase the satisfaction of that feeling for the rest of my life.
I work to get my racing heart under control, my breaths coming in harsh gasps, like I survived a battle or raced up Elandors Veil. Gods, what this woman does to me. I press my lips to her temple. She tastes like salt, and also somehow slightly sweet. I close my eyes, struggling.
She tastes like she’s mine .
Fuck. I’m in so much trouble.
I lay next to her, planning to disentangle myself from her arms, to scoot to the edge of the bed. To get some godsdamn distance. But she curls up next to me, her head falling against my shoulder, like that little crook in my arm was made for her.
And that pressure that’s been building in my chest snaps taut like a rope. With a contented sigh, I wrap my arms around her and pull her in tight.
We’ll get up in a minute. We’ll face the world in a minute.
Right now is ours. This one minute, even if I have to steal it from the gods, is ours.
She runs her fingers through the hair on my chest, and I shiver.
She looks up at me with a little grin. “Ticklish, are you?”
I press a kiss on her forehead. “Warriors aren’t ticklish.”
She smiles and continues playing with my chest hair.
My hands tighten on her waist, and I inhale her sweet, simple scent of lavender and sweat.
I run my hands through her curls and trace my fingers down the scar on her face until I reach her chin.
I press my fingers against the pulse in her neck—it’s a frantic, rapid beat. I smile.
She stretches against me. “Mmm,” she says. “It’s been years since I’ve been so relaxed.”
There’s a sharp rap on the door. Not an urgent call, but a warning, nonetheless.
“We have to get up and get dressed.” I search her eyes, hoping she understands. “We’ll find time to talk later but?—”
“No one can know,” she interrupts. “Like Nyrica and Thalric.”
I tilt my head, taken by surprise by her insightfulness. It took me years to work out what she figured out in a few months.
I nod.
She grins and it’s mischievous. “What, exactly, should I get dressed in?”
I look down at the tangled remnants of her dress. I should be embarrassed. Ashamed, even, at my lack of self-control. But all I can feel when I look at her like this is possessive.
She’s mine.
The only thing she’s still wearing is her boots. I groan. No one should look so good in combat boots.
“Well, no one else was going to see you in that dress,” I tell her, and I press a quick kiss to her lips. “Be right back.”
I grab my pants from the floor, quickly fastening them as I head for the door, and crack it open an inch. Thalric is still standing against the wall, and Nyrica is back, as well.
“Leina needs clothes,” I say.
Thalric arches an eyebrow and stares at me.
Nyrica smirks. “Uh-huh,” he says and saunters off down the hallway. “I’ll be back. I’ll steal someone’s dress from the orgy room.”
I narrow my eyes at his retreating back. “Something that will cover her.”
He laughs. I ignore Thalric’s burning gaze as I snap the door closed again and turn back to Leina.
She’s sprawled across the bed, her dark curls fanning out against an ivory pillow.
She’s cradled by the quiet and soothed by the stillness.
Her eyes are closed, her breathing deep. Damn, but she fell asleep fast.
I hate to wake her when I know how exhausted she is, but I brush a hand up her thigh.
“Leina,” I whisper. “We have to get back to the Synod.”
She doesn’t answer, not even a murmur or a groan. What the fuck is this?
I slide into the bed next to her and pull her into my arms. She’s limp, completely.
Her breathing has slowed to the point it’s almost like she’s stopped it altogether. I press frantic fingers against her pulse—it had been beating wild after sex, but now it’s sluggish, like her heart is pumping molasses. She goes ice-cold from one moment to the next.
Fuck .
I wrap my arms around her, and though my own heart stutters in my chest, I murmur in her ear with a confidence that I don’t feel. “You’re safe,” I tell her. “I’m here.”
I wrap her in one of the sheets to keep her chilled body warm, and then I dress with alacrity, gripping the hilt of my sword with a terrified strength.
I’ll keep her safe here.
And I pray to Thayana and to Serephelle and to any god who will listen to keep her safe there .
In the Veil.