Chapter 13
THE DEED
Ada
His mouth twitched — almost a smile, but too hungry for that.
He pushed me back against the cushions and crawled over me, hands sliding up my legs, pushing my skirts higher, higher.
His shadows helped — gathering the material at my waist, holding it there while his fingers hooked into my small clothes and dragged them down my thighs.
Slowly. Watching the slick cotton peel away from my skin.
"I've imagined this." His voice was low, wrecked, almost reverent. He spread my thighs with both hands and held them open, looking at me with an expression that was equal parts worship and starvation. "Every night since I met you. What you'd look like spread open for me. How you'd taste."
"And?"
"Reality's better."
The first stroke of his tongue tore a scream from my throat.
He didn't ease into it. Didn't tease. He buried his face between my thighs and devoured me — mouth hot and demanding, tongue dragging through my folds in long, obscene strokes before closing over my clit and sucking hard enough to make my spine arch off the cushions.
My hands flew to his hair, gripping fistfuls, but he only groaned against me — the vibration shooting straight through my core — and pressed deeper.
His shadows pinned my thighs open when I tried to close them around his head.
Cool dark tendrils wrapped around each knee and pulled, spreading me wider, holding me exposed while he worked me with single-minded intensity.
Long strokes alternating with tight, focused circles.
His tongue pushing inside me, then retreating to flick against my clit.
"Please — more —"
His mouth sealed over me while two fingers thrust inside, curling against that devastating spot. The dual sensation — his tongue, his fingers, his shadows holding me open and helpless — built something vast and blinding in my core.
He pulled back just long enough to speak, his lips swollen and shining. "Come for me, Ada. Let me feel it."
The release crashed through me like a wave breaking.
My back bowed, light magic exploding outward in golden waves that lit the tower like a second sun.
I screamed his name — the sound raw, barely human — and felt his groan against my oversensitive flesh as he worked me through every aftershock, gentling only when my fingers finally unclenched from his hair and my thighs stopped shaking.
When he lifted his head, his mouth was wet, his eyes wild, his pupils blown so wide they'd swallowed the color.
He kissed his way up my body — stomach, ribs, the valley between my breasts, my throat — and when he reached my mouth, I tasted myself on his tongue, salt and musk and something unmistakably mine.
"Magnificent," he breathed against my lips. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."
He stood and stripped his trousers off without ceremony.
His cock sprang free — thick, flushed dark with blood, a bead of moisture already gathering at the tip.
He was hard enough that it looked painful, the veins standing out beneath the skin, and the sight of him made something clench low in my belly.
"You're staring."
"You're..." I swallowed. "That's supposed to fit inside me?"
His laugh was strained, almost a grimace.
"It will." He settled himself between my thighs, and the heat of him pressed against my entrance sent a jolt through my entire body.
His cock slid through the slick mess between my legs — not entering, just dragging through my folds — and I whimpered at the pressure against my clit.
He groaned, his jaw clenching. "I'll go slow. Tell me if —"
"Hakan." I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, feeling the broad head of him notch against my opening. "I trust you."
He pushed forward.
The pain was immediate — sharp, tearing, a burning pressure that stole my breath. My nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood, and Hakan froze instantly, his whole body going rigid above me.
"Ada — fuck —"
"Don't." I breathed through the fire, my jaw clenched, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. "Don't apologize. Don't move. Just — give me a moment."
He held perfectly still, trembling with the effort, every muscle locked tight. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His shadows had gone still too — hovering around us like held breath, not touching, not moving, waiting.
His forehead dropped to mine. I felt his lips on my eyelids, kissing away the tears, feather-light against my cheekbones, the corners of my mouth. The gentleness undid me more than the pain.
"I've got you," he whispered against my skin, his voice cracking on the words. "I've got you, starlight. We can stop. We don't have to —"
"I don't want to stop." I forced my body to relax, breathing through it, letting the sharp edge dull into an ache I could hold. "I just need you to go slow."
"Anything." His arms shook where they bracketed my head. "Anything you need."
"Not forever." I managed a shaky smile. "Just a minute."
He laughed softly against my throat — a broken, relieved sound — and pressed his mouth to the hollow beneath my ear. This man. This arrogant, filthy, beautiful man, shaking apart trying not to hurt me. Holding himself on a knife's edge of control because I'd asked him to.
I loved him. Gods help me.
"Okay." I exhaled slowly. "Try again. Slowly."
He shifted his hips, sinking deeper by careful increments.
Every time I winced, he stopped. Every time I nodded, he continued.
His arms trembled. Sweat rolled down his temple and dripped onto my collarbone.
His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked beneath the skin, and his shadows — his shadows had started to move again, curling around my wrists, my ankles, not restraining but holding, grounding me, cool silk against the burning stretch between my legs.
By the time he was fully seated inside me, we were both breathing hard.
"Fuck." His whole body shuddered, and I felt the tremor deep inside me where we were joined. "You feel — I can't — Ada, you feel like everything."
The fullness was overwhelming. Not just physical — magical too. I could feel our powers brushing against each other where we were connected, his darkness stirring beneath my light like something vast shifting in its sleep.
I rolled my hips experimentally. The last of the pain dissolved into pressure, into heat, into a building need that made me dig my heels into the small of his back.
"Move. Hakan, I need you to move."
He withdrew slowly — the drag of him inside me made me whimper — then thrust back in, and the pleasure that sparked through me was so sharp I gasped.
"Again," I demanded. "Do that again."
He obeyed, setting a careful rhythm, each stroke measured and deep.
But I could feel the restraint coiled in every line of his body — the tendons standing out in his neck, the white-knuckled grip on the cushions beside my head, the way his shadows kept twitching toward my throat, my wrists, pulled back each time like dogs on a leash.
"You're holding back."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't." I grabbed his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. "I'm not fragile, Hakan. I won't break. Now fuck me like you've been wanting to for years."
Something snapped behind his eyes. I watched it happen — the restraint shattering, the hunger flooding in, dark and vast and uncontained.
His shadows surged.
They wrapped around my wrists and pinned them above my head. Wound around my thighs and spread me wider. Curled around my throat — not squeezing, just holding, a collar of living darkness that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
"You asked for this." His voice had dropped to something guttural, barely recognizable. "Remember that."
He pulled nearly all the way out and slammed back in with a force that punched the air from my lungs.
I cried out — not in pain, in shock, in the savage pleasure that ripped through my core — and he did it again, harder, setting a rhythm that was nothing like the careful strokes before.
This was raw. Brutal. The wet slap of his hips against mine echoed off the tower walls, and every thrust drove me deeper into the silk cushions, drove sounds from my throat I'd never made before.
"Fuck — you feel —" His teeth scraped my collarbone, bit down hard enough to bruise. "So tight. So fucking perfect around me."
"Hakan —"
"You have any idea what you do to me?" He fisted one hand in my hair, pulled my head back, exposing my throat to his mouth.
His hips never slowed — a punishing rhythm that made the world dissolve into sensation.
"Years, Ada. Years of imagining this. Your sounds, the way you'd feel, the way you'd look underneath me with my cock buried inside you —" His shadow tightened fractionally around my throat and my vision sparked gold.
"— and the reality is so much fucking better I could lose my mind. "
"Yours." I met him stroke for stroke, wrapping my legs tighter, my nails raking bloody lines down his back. "Always yours."
He groaned like I'd wounded him — a raw, desperate sound — and crushed his mouth to mine.
The kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue, his hand still fisted in my hair while his hips drove into me.
I could taste my own arousal on his lips, could feel the heat of his skin against mine, could feel his shadows pulsing everywhere they touched me — my throat, my wrists, the inside of my thighs — each one a point of cool darkness against the heat building in my core.
His hand slipped between us. His fingers found my clit and circled — rough, demanding, perfectly in time with his thrusts — and the dual stimulation built something vast and terrifying behind my navel.
"I'm close — Hakan — I can't —"