Chapter 10 Keira
KEIRA
Something breaks open inside me—some final wall I've been maintaining between us crumbles to dust. I pull him down to me, closing the last breath of space between us.
His eyes are dark as he rasps out, "Then don't hold back either."
And then Valas kisses me.
Finally.
His lips are softer than I expected, gentle as he tastes me for the first time. Careful. Like he's savoring something he's been denied too long. I melt into it, into him, letting myself feel without thinking about consequences or power dynamics or any of the thousand reasons this is complicated.
Right now, it's just us. Just this.
I make a sound against his mouth—half-sigh, half-whimper—and grip his shoulders harder, pulling him closer. Needing more.
That's when he loses it.
Whatever control he's been exercising shatters.
He groans into my mouth, one hand sliding into my hair while the other bands around my waist, hauling me against him.
The kiss turns hungry, demanding. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him without hesitation, gasping at the first deep taste.
Gods, he tastes good. Like the amerinth he drinks sometimes, sweet and burning all at once.
I clutch at him desperately, trying to get closer even though there's no space left between us. His body is solid against mine, all lean muscle and restrained strength. I want to climb him, wrap myself around him until I can't tell where I end and he begins.
He walks me backward, still kissing me like he'll die if he stops. My back hits the desk and he lifts me easily, settling me on the edge among scattered parchment. Papers crinkle beneath me but I don't care, can't care about anything except the way he steps between my thighs, pressing close.
"Keira." He breaks the kiss just long enough to rasp my name, then captures my mouth again. Deeper this time. Thorough. Like he's trying to memorize the taste of me.
I wrap my legs around his waist, anchoring him to me. Feel the hard length of him pressed against my core through too many layers of fabric. The friction makes me moan into his mouth, hips rolling involuntarily.
He tears away from my lips, breathing hard. "Fuck. Don't—if you keep doing that I won't be able to—"
"I don't care." I pull him back, kissing along his jaw, down his throat. Tasting salt and something uniquely him. "I want you. All of you. I don't want to hold back anymore."
His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise. "You're killing me."
"Good." I bite gently at his pulse point, feeling his heart race beneath my lips. "You've been killing me for weeks. Watching you, wanting you, pretending I didn't."
He pulls back just far enough to look at me, eyes blazing. "I've been dying for you. Since the moment I saw you, I've been—" He shakes his head, like words aren't enough. "I can't think when you're near. Can't focus. Can't do anything except imagine touching you like this."
Heat floods through me at the raw confession. "Then touch me. Really touch me."
His gaze darkens impossibly further. "How much?"
"Everything." I don't recognize my own voice, thick with need. "I want everything."
"Keira—" His control is fraying, I can see it in the tension bracketing his mouth, the white-knuckle grip on my hips. "We should slow down. Think about this."
"I don't want to think." I kiss him again, pouring all my frustrated wanting into it. "I don't want to be careful or sensible. I just want you. Forget you're dark elf. Forget I'm human. Just—be with me."
Something in him yields. He kisses me back with renewed intensity, hands sliding up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. I arch into the touch, desperate for more contact.
"Tell me what you need." His lips move down my throat, teeth scraping gently. "Tell me how to make you feel good."
"Your hands." I'm panting now, trembling with want. "Your mouth. I don't care, just—don't stop touching me."
His hands find the laces of my bodice, working them loose with practiced efficiency. I should probably wonder about that, about how many others he's undressed, but I'm too far gone to care about anything except getting these clothes off.
"I love this dress on you." He peels the bodice open, revealing the thin chemise beneath. My nipples are visible through the fabric, peaked and aching. His eyes fix on them, jaw clenching. "But I love seeing in you in less more."
"I wore it for you," I admit, panting.
"Beautiful." The word comes out reverent. "You're so fucking beautiful."
Before I can respond, he dips his head and closes his mouth over one nipple through the fabric. Hot and wet, tongue circling the sensitive peak. I cry out, hands flying to his hair, holding him there.
"Yes. Oh gods, yes."
He works me thoroughly, sucking and licking until the chemise is soaked, until I'm squirming on the desk and making desperate noises. Then he moves to the other breast, giving it the same devoted attention.
I'm shaking by the time he pulls back, looking up at me with eyes gone black with desire.
"More?" The question is rough, barely controlled.
"More. Please, Valas, I need—" I don't know how to articulate what I need. Just that it's more, deeper, everything.
He reaches for my skirts, hand hesitating at my knee. "Can I?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "Please."
His palm slides up my thigh, pushing fabric out of the way. Callused fingers trace patterns on sensitized skin, drawing closer to where I'm aching and wet. When he cups me through my undergarments, I nearly sob with relief.
"Fuck, you're soaked." His voice has gone gravel-rough. "All this for me?"
"Yes." I rock against his hand shamelessly. "All for you."
He strokes me through the fabric, thumb finding the bundle of nerves at my apex. Circles it with perfect pressure while I fall apart above him.
"I want to taste you." The words rumble against my throat where he's kissing, biting gently. "Want to make you come on my tongue. Will you let me?"
Every nerve ending ignites at the suggestion. "I don't—I've never—"
He pulls back to look at me, searching my face. "Never?"
I shake my head, heat flooding my cheeks despite everything we've already done. "No one's ever—"
"Then I get to be your first." Satisfaction threads his voice. Something possessive and pleased. "I get to show you how good it can be."
Before I can respond, he's sinking to his knees between my thighs, hands pushing my skirts up and out of the way. The sight of him there, looking up at me with hunger written across his face, nearly undoes me.
"Valas—"
"Lift up." Gentle command. I obey without thinking, raising my hips so he can slide my undergarments down and off. Cool air hits heated flesh and I gasp, instinctively trying to close my legs.
He stops me with firm hands on my thighs, keeping me open. "Don't hide from me. Let me see you."
I force myself to relax, to let him look his fill even though I'm burning with embarrassment and arousal in equal measure. His eyes roam over me like I'm something precious, worshipful.
"Perfect." He presses a kiss to my inner thigh, just above my knee. "Absolutely perfect."
Then he works his way higher, kissing and licking a path up my thigh while I tremble and clutch the edge of the desk. By the time he reaches the crease where leg meets body, I'm panting.
"Please." I don't even know what I'm begging for anymore. Just that I need something, anything to ease this ache.
"I've got you." He presses one more kiss to my thigh, then leans in and licks a long, slow stripe up my center.
I cry out, head falling back at the sensation. Hot and wet and so much more intense than I imagined. He does it again, taking his time, exploring me with evident enjoyment.
"You taste incredible." The words vibrate against sensitive flesh. "Could do this for hours."
Then he seals his mouth over me properly and I lose the ability to form words.
His tongue is wicked, skilled, finding every sensitive spot and lavishing it with attention. He circles my clit with the tip, then flattens his tongue and licks broadly. Alternates between the two until I'm writhing against his mouth, hands fisted in his hair.
"Valas, I can't—it's too much—"
He pulls back just enough to speak. "It's not enough. Not nearly enough." Then dives back in, redoubling his efforts.
One hand releases my thigh, sliding up to press against my entrance. A finger circles there, gathering wetness, then pushes inside slowly. The intrusion combined with his mouth makes my vision blur.
"Oh gods—"
He works that finger deeper, crooking it to stroke some spot inside that makes stars explode behind my eyes. Then adds a second, stretching me, filling me while his tongue continues its relentless assault on my clit.
Pressure builds low in my belly, coiling tighter and tighter. I'm making sounds I've never made before—desperate, needy whimpers and gasps. My thighs are shaking, trying to close around his head but his shoulders keep me open.
"That's it." He pulls back just long enough to encourage me. "Let go. Come for me, starlight. Want to feel you fall apart on my tongue."
He sucks my clit into his mouth at the same moment his fingers stroke that perfect spot inside, and I shatter.
The orgasm crashes over me in waves, stealing my breath, my voice, my ability to think. I come hard against his mouth, crying out his name while he works me through it, tongue gentling but never stopping.
Just when I think it's over, when the waves start to recede, he doubles down. Sucking harder, fingers moving faster, driving me straight into another peak before I've recovered from the first.
"Valas—wait—I can't—" I try to pull him up, hands tugging desperately at his hair.
He catches my wrists with his free hand, pinning them against the desk while his mouth continues its devastation. When he pulls back this time, his lips are slick, eyes wild.
"You wanted me to touch you." His voice is absolutely wrecked. "So that's what I'm doing. Just this. All of this."
"But—" Protest dies on my lips as he drags his tongue up my center again, slow and deliberate. "Oh fuck—"
"Not yet." He punctuates the words with licks, with the curl of his fingers inside me. "I just want to make you come. Again and again until you're boneless and satisfied."
The idea of it—of him drawing this out, wringing multiple orgasms from my body—should seem like too much. But my traitorous body clenches around his fingers, already climbing toward another peak.
"See?" Satisfaction colors his tone. "Your body knows what it wants. Knows it can take more."
He's right. Gods help me, he's right. I'm already so close again, hypersensitive from the first orgasm but craving another with desperate intensity.
He releases my wrists to grip my thighs, spreading me wider. Holds me open while he feasts, and there's no other word for it. He's devouring me like a man starved, groaning against my flesh like my pleasure is his own.
The sounds he makes push me higher. Deep, satisfied rumbles that vibrate through me. He's getting off on this, on making me fall apart, and that knowledge is intoxicating.
"You're so responsive." He licks around his own fingers where they're buried inside me. "So wet for me. I could spend all night right here."
"Can't—" The protest is weak, unconvincing even to my own ears. "It's too much—"
"Not enough." His thumb joins the assault, circling my clit while his tongue pushes inside alongside his fingers. "Never enough. Want to ruin you for anyone else. Want you to remember this every time you see me."
His words, combined with the relentless stimulation, shove me over the edge again. This orgasm is harder than the first, almost painful in its intensity. I come with a broken cry, thighs clamping around his head, entire body going rigid with pleasure.
He groans like he's found his own release, mouth working me through every aftershock while I shake and gasp above him. When I finally go limp, boneless and wrung out, he gentles his touch. Soft kisses pressed to inner thighs, fingers sliding free carefully.
I collapse back on the desk, chest heaving, unable to form coherent thought. My entire body feels like melted wax, warm and pliant and thoroughly used.
Valas rises slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are molten, lips swollen and glistening. He looks absolutely debauched and impossibly pleased with himself.
"Good?" The question is casual but I hear the need beneath it. The desire for confirmation that he satisfied me.
"I—" My voice is hoarse, wrecked. "I don't have words. That was—why did I resist this?"
His smile is sharp, triumphant. "Because you're stubborn and cautious and far too sensible for your own good."
"Clearly not sensible enough." I gesture weakly at our current position—me sprawled across his desk, skirts rucked up, thoroughly ravished. "Sensible people don't do this."
"Fuck sensible." He leans down, capturing my mouth in a kiss that tastes like me, like us. "I want you wild and wanting. I want you exactly like this."
Can't he see he already has me?