Chapter 11 #2
He dragged his fingertips along her throat, across her collarbone, and down until he was cupping a breast in his hand.
Then he was sucking her nipple into his mouth, unable to help himself when she arched into his touch.
Her hands were roaming too, gliding along his back and arms. Fingers tangled in his hair, and he let his magic rise to the surface, turning his touch cold and making her gasp at not only the contrast, but his magic seeking out her winds.
For a long while, he was content just to feel her beneath him, stealing all those touches and kisses he’d told her about.
It wasn’t until she was moving beneath him, hips seeking more, that he finally pulled himself away long enough to remove his pants.
Seconds later, he was settling between her thighs.
“Ashtine—” he started. He was going to ask her if she was sure, give her one last opportunity to tell him to stop, but then she was reaching for him, dragging his mouth back to hers.
People had been second-guessing her her entire life.
He wasn’t about to do the same when she had made her desires clear.
Her hips rose again, grinding against him, and he groaned when he felt her already ready for him.
If there was still any question about whether she was sure, it was gone now.
Sitting back, he slid his hands beneath her, lifting her ass and angling her hips before sliding in, and by the gods.
She had said she hadn’t taken many lovers, but he hadn’t been prepared for exactly what that meant.
She was so godsdamn tight and warm around him that he was biting down on a curse.
Ashtine reached up, her thumb smoothing along the crease between his brows. “Are you well?”
He nodded, choking on his huff of laughter because it was such an Ashtine question in this moment, and he was more than all right. “I just need a moment. Are you all right?”
She smiled, her fingers sliding down his torso and making his stomach cave at her touch. “I am happy with my choice to both stay here and share a bed with you.”
Fuck, he couldn’t focus on what she was saying or how she was saying it with her fingers tracing the indents of his abdomen, let alone his cock being buried inside her.
He hoped this wasn’t one of her veiled sayings with layers of meaning because all he could do was say, “I’m glad you stayed too, Ashtine,” before he curled over her, covering her body with his and kissing her slowly.
Another groan clawed up his throat when he moved excruciatingly slowly, but if he moved too fast, this would be over just as quickly.
He could feel the perspiration on his nape and chest, and it had nothing to do with the summer heat.
This was all the princess beneath him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer still and rolling her hips in a way that ground her center against him.
Briar buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing and sucking as she stroked her nails down his back.
He thrust into her lazily, giving her the time needed to get to the same place he was.
When her movements started growing desperate, he reached between them, circling and rubbing at her center until her breaths were short gasps and her nails were digging into his flesh.
That was when he finally let himself take what he’d been desperate for.
It didn’t take long when his thrusts were deep, fast strokes, and she buried her face in his chest as he held her close, finding his own release. He’d expected this to be good. Their odd connection was too intimate for it not to be, but he hadn’t expected …
He simply hadn’t expected this.
That was all he could think after they’d both cleaned up and were back in bed. Ashtine curled into him, her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, tucking her in impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Briar?” she asked in a sleepy murmur.
“Yes, my dear?”
“The winds …”
She sighed into him, her breath coasting across his bare chest, and he traced his fingers along her arm.
“Tell me, Ashtine,” he urged.
“They speak of a prince of water falling.”
His movements paused, and she stiffened against him. “I upset you. I apologize.”
“No,” he said, resuming the soothing strokes of his fingers. “I am not upset. I am told the winds speak of past, present, and future. Perhaps they speak of my father. Or a prince in another realm.”
“And if they do not?”
“We will go mad trying to figure it out,” he answered, pressing a kiss to her brow when she looked up at him. “Did we not agree to take trials as they come?”
“We did,” she answered. “But that does not quiet the worry.”
“Worrying about something that may not even come to pass steals joy from the present.”
“Perhaps,” she murmured.
She was asleep before she breathed another word, and he certainly wouldn’t wake her when sleep came easily after months of insomnia. And as the first light of day filtered into the room, he sent a message to his Court telling them not to expect him for meals today.