Chapter 11 #3
Khaeric’s mouth found hers before she could respond. The kiss was desperate, his lips crushing hers with an intensity that stole her breath. His hands slid from her face to cradle the back of her head, fingers tangling in the damp bun she’d twisted her hair into.
She gripped his forearms, feeling the tension coiled in the muscle beneath her palms. He kissed her like he was trying to convince himself she was real, that she was here, that she wasn’t slipping away from him.
He guided her backward until her legs struck the edge of the bed, and she sank onto the furs. He followed, his weight settling over her, his hips pressing between her thighs.
The silk nightgown bunched around her waist as his hand slid along her bare leg. He kissed her jaw, her throat, the hollow beneath her ear where her pulse hammered. He pulled back. “Say it again.”
“I’m not leaving.” She reached up to cup his face. “I’m staying, Khaeric. I’m staying with you.”
His lips found hers again as his hand slid from her leg to her hip, then up her side, dragging the silk with it. The fabric whispered against her skin as he pushed it higher, exposing her stomach, her ribs, the underside of her breasts.
“Let me taste ye,” he rumbled against her mouth. “Please.”
She nodded.
He kissed his way down her throat, his tongue tracing the line of her pulse. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder, and she gasped. The sound seemed to spur him on. He moved lower, pushing the silk nightgown up and over her breasts.
Heat flooded through her. Her back arched off the bed, pressing herself more fully into his touch. He moved down her body, his lips trailing across her ribs, her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel. The sensation made her squirm, and his hands gripped her hips, holding her still.
“Easy,” he murmured against her skin. He pushed the nightgown up over her head. She lifted her arms to help him, and it disappeared somewhere beyond the edge of the bed.
Khaeric shifted lower on the bed, positioning himself between her legs, his hands gently pushing her knees wider. Then his mouth was on her.
The first touch of his tongue made her gasp. He dragged it slowly through her folds, tasting her, and the sensation sent lightning up her spine, her hands fisting in the furs.
His tongue found a rhythm—slow, deliberate strokes that made her thighs tremble. He explored her thoroughly, and when his lips closed around her pearl and sucked gently, her back bowed off the bed.
“Please,” she heard herself whisper.
Heat built low in her belly, coiling tighter with each stroke of his tongue. The sounds of his mouth on her sent warmth pooling through her body.
One of his hands released her thigh. She felt the shift in pressure, felt his fingers trailing along the inside of her leg. Then his finger was there, pressing gently at her entrance.
He pushed inside slowly, carefully, and the stretch made her hips lift off the bed as his mouth worked the sensitive bundle of nerves while his finger moved inside her with shallow, testing strokes.
“Khaeric—” His name came out broken.
He added a second finger, the stretch more pronounced now. Her body tensed reflexively, and he paused, his mouth lifting from her just enough to murmur something in Orkish against her thigh.
Khaeric’s fingers worked that spot inside her with relentless precision, and the heat in her belly coiled tighter still. Her thighs trembled against his shoulders, her body drawing taut. The pleasure built and built until—
It crashed over her in waves. Her back arched off the bed, a cry tearing from her throat as her body clenched around his fingers. The pleasure rolled through her in pulses, each one stealing her breath.
He worked her through it, his fingers gentling but not stopping, his tongue softening its pressure but maintaining that maddening contact. When the last tremors faded, leaving her gasping, he withdrew his fingers and kissed the inside of her thigh.
She heard the bed shift as he rose to his knees. Through half-lidded eyes, she watched him unlace his trousers and shove them down his hips. His cock sprang free—thick, flushed dark at the tip, already glistening.
He positioned himself between her thighs, the head of his cock pressed against her entrance. “Look at me,” he said, his voice rough.
She met his gaze. “I want this,” she told him.
The stretch was immediate, overwhelming. She gasped, her fingers digging into his forearms.
Khaeric stilled immediately, his whole body trembling with the effort. “Breathe,” he managed, the word coming out strained. “Just breathe, lass.”
She tried, drawing air in shallow pulls. The fullness was unlike anything she’d experienced—not his fingers, not even close. Her body felt split open, stretched to accommodate him, and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.
“More?” The question came out rough, almost desperate.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
He pushed deeper. The burn intensified, her body clenching around him. Then he withdrew slightly, and the drag of him against her inner walls sent sparks through the burn.
Khaeric pressed forward again, working himself deeper in increments so small she barely registered the progress until suddenly he was seated fully inside her.
Her body pulsed around him, adjusting, accommodating. She could feel him everywhere—the weight of his hips pressing her thighs wider, the heat of his skin against hers.
“Ancestors,” he breathed against her throat. His whole body shook, muscles rigid with restraint. “Ye feel—” The words cut off in a groan as her body clenched around him involuntarily.
He remained still. Waiting. Letting her adjust.
Her breathing steadied, and with it came other sensations—his breath ghosting across her collarbone, the tremor in his arms where they bracketed her head.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Slowly, he withdrew. Then he pressed forward again, filling her in one smooth stroke, and her breath hitched.
The rhythm he established was careful. Each withdrawal and thrust was deliberate, giving her time to adjust. The burn faded further with each movement, her body gradually accepting the intrusion, relaxing around him.
Pleasure built again, slower this time, deeper. Her hips began to move with him, tentatively at first. The angle shifted, and she moaned.
He did it again. And again. His control slipped as his breath quickened, his thrusts came faster, deeper, and the careful restraint he’d maintained frayed. “Aeryn.” Her name on his lips—a prayer and a curse.
The pressure built low in her belly again, different from before but no less intense. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groaned against her throat. His hips snapped forward harder now.
The sound of their bodies coming together filled the chamber—wet, rhythmic, obscene. “Please,” she heard herself gasp.
Khaeric’s rhythm stuttered, his thrusts losing their measured precision. He swelled inside her—impossible; he was already too big—and then he was groaning her name against her throat, his hips jerking forward as his release poured into her in hot pulses.
Her body clenched around him as pleasure crashed through her again, stealing her breath. Wave after wave rolled through her, each one seeming to draw more from him until they were both gasping, trembling, clinging to each other.
His breath came in ragged gasps against her throat, hot and damp. Then his mouth found the junction between her neck and shoulder.
Pain lanced through her shoulder. She cried out, her body arching beneath him, her nails digging into his back. The pressure of his teeth increased, holding her immobile.
Then he collapsed against her, his weight pressing her into the furs. She could feel his heart hammering against her ribs, the tremor running through his limbs. “I love ye.” The words came out raw as his tongue soothed the wound. “Ancestors, Aeryn, I love ye so much.”
“I love you too.” She reached for her shoulder. “But what was that?”
Khaeric met her gaze sheepishily. “It’s a mating mark.”
Aeryn blinked. The sting on her shoulder throbbed in time with her heartbeat. A mating mark. A permanent, visible claim on her body. “You conveniently left that detail out,” she snorted.
“It was instinct,” Khaeric admitted, a flush darkening his gray cheeks. “Should’ve warned ye. My apologies.” He continued to tend to the mark. “Are ye upset?”
The mark throbbed, not painfully, and something about it felt right. “No,” she said. “I’m not angry. Just... surprised.”
He pressed his lips to her neck, then rolled to the side, drawing her against him. His arm wrapped around her waist, his hand splayed across her stomach.
“Khaeric...” There was a warm, wet trickling between her thighs.
“Aye.” His voice came out rough, satisfied. “That’s me inside ye.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then another to the curve of her neck. “Let me get somethin’ to clean ye.”
He crossed to the bathing chamber, his gait slightly unsteady. The muscles of his back shifted beneath his skin as he moved, and she could see the red marks her nails had left along his shoulders.
Moments later, he returned with a clean cloth dampened with warm water. He knelt beside the bed and pressed it gently between her thighs, his touch careful.
When he’d finished, he set the cloth aside and climbed back into bed beside her, gathering her against his chest. She pressed her cheek to his sternum, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat. His fingers traced idle patterns along her spine.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair. “For this mornin’. For actin’ like a fool.”
“You weren’t acting like a fool,” she said. “You were scared.”
He drew a deep breath. “Aye. Terrified.” His hand stilled against her back. “I’ve faced battle, lass. I’ve stood before the Council wi’ my father’s future in my hands. But the thought of ye leavin’...” His voice roughened. “That was worse than any of it.”
“I should have told you where I was going,” she said. “I should have explained about the training, about the letter—”
“No. Ye shouldnae need my permission for every movement. That’s no’…” He exhaled slowly. “That’s no’ the bond I want wi’ ye.”