Chapter 33 #2
"Aesira." Her name was broken, caught between a moan and a plea.
He set the pace, torturously slow at first before whatever control he had been holding on to shattered.
He gripped her hair. Bit her neck then kissed where it hurt.
Whispered words of praise as he thrust harder and deeper inside her.
Her body quaked, nails digging into his back.
With each thrust, she pushed against him so there was no space between them.
Only their bodies, searing and desperate.
Starved.
She felt herself inch close to the end but just as Stone wanted to savor it, she did too. They would be back in Vargah before they knew it and everything would change. As far as she knew, this night was all they had. So she forced him onto his back, so she was on top of him.
He threw his head back as she circled her hips, a moan tearing from her lips. “You’re so pretty like that,” he said. “Make that noise again for me.”
So she did.
His fingers dug into her hips, words falling from his lips that only spun her higher and higher.
Fuck.
Perfect.
Yes.
Aesira.
Aesira.
Aesira.
Her palms pressed into his chest, her eyes on his and it was like he could read every thought, every worry she had, but he brushed his lips over hers and her thoughts and worries vanished.
She slowed her pace before he flipped her again and she was on her back.
At some point his glasses must have fallen, or he took them off, she wasn't sure.
All she could focus on was his face, scarred and beautiful. His breaths, sweet and heavy.
He drove into her, cupping the back of her neck, kissing her slow and firm between ragged breaths. He used his free hand to hook the back of her leg, opening her up wider, just like he said he would and that was it.
Aesira was falling, falling over the edge.
Her body arching into him, molding them together as closely as she could until she was completely undone and all that was left was the beat of her heart in her ears, the rush of blood and the feel of too-hot skin.
A moan broke through Stone's lips as he came, following her over that cliff, his teeth finding her shoulder, then kissing where it hurt.
He kissed her deeply before moving away and she had a thought to pull him right back. Start again. Keep him as close to her as possible.
After they cleaned themselves, she tucked herself into his chest, running her fingers along his scars as his ran lazily over her back. "Sleep," he said before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She didn't want to close her eyes. She wanted to stay awake. Memorize every scar. Commit every sound Stone made to memory. But as with everything, time moved forward and Stone drifted to sleep, his arms tight around her.
Aesira's mind raced through every moment since they left Vargah. Everything that was to come. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help the sinking feeling that she was losing something.
Losing him.
So, instead of sleeping, she sat up and penned a letter to Kamari.
Stone’s breath was warm against her neck as Aesira woke. The light through the porthole was dim, just barely morning. She rolled toward Stone and traced a finger over his bottom lip.
“Mm,” he said, cracking an eye open. “Good morning, you’re up early.”
“Can’t sleep.” She nudged closer, her nose brushing his. The last two days had flown by and they'd been lucky to only encounter a rogue sandstorm and another hive of crawlers. Nothing they couldn’t handle and now, they’d reach Vargah by the end of the day.
“Shall I read to you again, Commander?”
Her lips brushed his. “No,” she said. “We should get up. Help out.”
“We could do that,” he said, “or we could just stay here.” He rolled her onto her back so his body caged her beneath him. He was firm on top of her, his lips warm as he found her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist. “I have an idea of what we could do.”
He dropped her hand and reached to the small table that sat next to the bed. “What are you doing?” He held up a piece of fabric, one she recognized from flying a few weeks ago. He’d tied it around her mouth before the storm, to keep the sand out.
“Do you trust me, Commander?” His arm bracketed either side of her again, the piece of fabric laid across her bare chest.
Their trust had been tested several times over the last few weeks and even when she felt she could trust him, there was always a small doubt. He was an Odega. The very opposite of what she was trained to be, but he was also now just Stone.
Stone who pushed his glasses up even when they weren’t falling. Stone who marveled at waterfalls and moths. Stone who she caught watching her. Stone who tended to her needs as if they were his own. Stone who read to her when she was restless and eased her into a deep sleep.
She did not give her trust easily, always something to be earned. Tested. But more than anything, she wanted to give it to him. He watched her, his question suspended between them.
“I trust you, Stone.”
He exhaled, like her words were a relief, then he picked up the fabric. “Good,” he said, “because last night I had another dream.”
He slipped the fabric over her eyes and tied it gently behind her head. The room went dark, the immediate panic of losing one of her senses sped up her heart. Stone was still on top of her, his hands holding hers. “Trust me.” His lips swept past her ear, then pressed into her neck.
“I do. I trust you.” The weight of the truth pressed down on her chest, laboring her breathing.
She did trust Stone. More than she trusted most people.
They’d exposed parts of themselves to each other the last few weeks that no one else had ever seen before.
They’d been honest, faced death, found solace in each other’s arms and if there was anyone in the world she knew she could trust, it was him.
He let go of her hands and she gripped the sheets, back arching off the bed as his fingers drifted over her heightened skin, feather-light.
Over her peaked nipple, down her stomach, between her legs.
Barely there touches, alternating between his fingers and lips and tongue, that had her moving and sweating and ready for more.
He teased her right to the edge then moved away, never giving her exactly what she needed. With the blindfold, each touch was a surprise, each kiss from his lips, swipe of his tongue, pushing her closer to the edge.
He was back at her ear again, his body scorching and heavy on top of her. “It’s your turn to tell me what you want.” Another kiss to her pulse.
“Please,” she said.
He untied the blindfold, using it instead to tie her hands above her head. She squinted against the light, sunlight now filling the room. She was pleased to see he looked just as worked up as she did, his cheeks flushed and eyes dilated, like touching her was all he needed. “Please just fuck me.”
He laughed, then kissed her forehead. “Such good manners,” he said, then slid into her, slowly, until she couldn’t take anymore, until they were both breathless, both waiting to move. Their eyes caught and she nodded, just once.
I trust you.
He rocked his hips, once, twice, and then they were moving in sync, sharing stolen breaths, bodies hot and aching for each other.
There was no savoring it this time, they finished fast and hard, Stone’s face buried in her neck, Aesira’s legs wrapped around his hips, his name spilling from her lips.
She had never felt like this before. Not just the sex but how she felt after.
How she felt in his arms. Safe. Content.
Like they’d done this a million times before, like they had the time to do it a million more.
Except they didn’t.
When he pulled away, he must have seen the worry on her face. He sighed, like he was thinking the same thing, and untied her wrists, taking the time to kiss the inside of each one.
“Are you sure they’ll see the ship?” She and Stone stood together on the bow while Birdie manned the wheel. The sun was blotted out by a rising sandstorm and the heat Aesira dreaded returning to was back. Her hair stuck to the nape of her neck, curling tightly at her temples.
“They’ll see it.” Stone stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her middle.
“They’re trained just for this. We’re close enough to Vargah now they’ll know.
” Through the growing storm, an angry fury of red dust, a hawk took shape.
“There.” From his pocket Stone drew a small, gold whistle and blew it.
The sound was nearly indetectable but the large bird spread its wings and dove for the ship.
The hawk was adorned with light chainmail, several small bells, and two delicate bracelets around its legs–one red and one purple–to signify Novaria and Vargah.
“Fly fast, friend.” Aesira tied the scroll around the hawk’s leg and then it took flight, soaring through the sandstorm with ease.
She and Stone set their goggles in place before the storm drew any closer.
He pulled her hair back, twisting it into a braid as they watched the hawk, and Aesira’s message, disappear from view.
“The goggles suit you.” Stone tucked his finger under her chin and kissed her. You suit me, she wanted to say. He pulled the fabric mask from his pocket. “You’ll need this.” He tied it gently around her mouth. “Though I prefer how you wore it this morning.” He winked, then tied his own mask on.
How would she ever move on from this, she wondered. How would she ever move on from him?