43. Saige
Saige
Imoan into Archer’s mouth as his finger sinks deep inside me, my back bowing off the wall. I’m burning up and I can’t stop. Desire floods every nerve ending in my body as he kisses me like he owns me, his tongue dancing with mine, his finger curling, hitting a spot—
I tilt my hips and claw at his shirt with my hands, seeking more, more of everything. The pleasure he’s ruining me with, more of his body, more of him.
Another finger teases me, and I grind on him, needy and demanding.
A low chuckle escapes him. “Looks to me like you know exactly what you want, Grayson. Take it. It’s all yours.”
He pushes that second finger inside with the first, and I bite his shoulder to keep a wild noise from escaping my throat.
The stretch of those two digits working me is a delicious torture, and I ride them, wondering how it would feel with his cock inside me.
Drunk on the sensation, I cling to the Azkari general who knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans against my neck, his voice thick with lust, his stubble scraping my sensitive skin as he pumps those fingers again and again.
There’s something incredibly dirty about doing this here, in the midst of the market, where people pass us, so closely I can smell their perfume.
They’re so near, yet completely oblivious to Archer fucking me with his fingers, the heel of his hand grinding against my clit.
It’s dangerous. It’s wicked. And I think I’m addicted.
Heat swells between my thighs. Everything is so tightly wound that a dark frenzy takes hold of me.
My palms map the contours of Archer’s chest, hard planes of muscle meeting my touch.
I drop my hands lower, coasting over the ridges of his abdomen down to the impressive bulge in his leathers.
I palm the length of him and a low rumble of need vibrates against my mouth.
White-hot need blazes through me and Archer captures my lip between his teeth, biting hard enough that I gasp.
“I fucking love the sounds you make, Grayson. Don’t hold back. They’re mine. You’re mine.”
His words send another frisson of longing straight to my core. “This veil of yours better extend to sound proofing,” I murmur, my head tipping back, a cry of ecstasy on my lips.
“What veil?”
I freeze, heart pounding like a drum in my chest. “Archer—”
His answering smirk has me cuffing him on the shoulder.
“You bastard,” I exclaim, face flushing.
“Let me make it up to you,” he murmurs.
And then he drops to his knees.
I’m reaching for him instantly. “You don’t have to—”
With his hands on my thighs beneath my fallen skirts, he peers up at me, brow furrowed with confusion. “Have to? Grayson, I can’t think of anything I want more than to taste what belongs to me.”
“Oh.”
“Any other objections?”
Biting my lip, I shake my head, my entire body turning molten.
He wants this. I can see it in the heat of his gaze, in the erection straining against his pants, in the way he licks his lips as he slowly slides my dress back up my legs, trailing kisses along my inner thighs, peppering the faded bruises there with the gentle reverence of his lips.
He taps my legs. “Spread,” he demands.
I’m trembling, knees weak as I do as he bids, completely and utterly exposed to him now. Every sense is heightened as he takes his time, first, admiring me, teasing me with his fingers, applying pressure to the slick heat of me, but not quite sliding home.
“Archer—”
He drags his teeth over my thigh, smiling wickedly against my skin. “I like it when you beg.”
“Then please,” I cry.
He parts me with his thumbs and my breath catches.
This is the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m already on the verge of losing it when he hooks one of my legs over his shoulder.
And then his mouth descends on me.
The first sweep of his tongue sets me ablaze.
White-hot need roars in my veins as he traces my core with his lips and tongue like I’m a fucking masterpiece.
Long, luxurious strokes at my center build that rising pressure within.
He circles and sucks on my clit, sliding his fingers deep inside me at the same time, pumping me, sinking deep again and again.
“Oh gods.” My vision blurs and I grip his shoulders hard, scoring the skin through his shirt with my nails. He only groans in satisfaction.
It’s that noise from him that sets me off, his own enjoyment so evident that it pulls every thread of my own desire tight. I’m climbing to the point of no return.
I don’t think I’ll ever come back down.
He devours me, his broad shoulders shifting as he works me, pausing only to ask in a low voice. “Who are you going to come for, Grayson?”
“You,” I pant. “It’s all for you.”
His mouth closes over me again, sucking and swirling his tongue, those fingers hitting that spot inside once more—
The pressure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter within.
A cry rips from my throat as I shatter. My climax rolls through me, waves of pleasure unravelling me, mind, body and soul.
Archer coaxes me through the final throes of it, slowing his actions into a soft lull of lingering rapture until I’m a trembling mess, barely able to stand.
Even as he gets to his feet, smoothing my skirts down around my legs, he supports me, not letting me go. He watches my face carefully, as if he’s looking for signs of regret.
I make sure he finds none.
Instead, I reach up, threading my fingers through his hair and drawing his face down to mine. I kiss him, in the same way he kisses me, deep and dominating. A claiming.
When we break apart, we’re panting again.
Archer cups my face in both hands, tilting it up toward his like I’m something precious he’s been searching for, for a long time.
Like in me, he’s found it. He rests his forehead against mine, not seeming ready to return to the world just yet.
Neither am I.