Chapter Nine
Nine
Heat
Shadach rolled his wet shirt up his torso and chest, pulling the drenched fabric over his head.
His thick hair clung to his forehead and he swiped it back, fighting the need to shake and shiver.
Taking off his trousers, he thought about keeping on his wet under briefs.
For her sake. But this wasn’t really a keep-your-under-briefs-on situation, was it?
He rolled them down his legs as he heard her drop something that sounded like a corset to the ground.
Not that he knew precisely what a wet corset dropping sounded like, but his mind couldn’t help the imagery.
He hadn’t gotten to see much of her exquisite body before. He wondered what—
No. Not now. Now was about warmth. About survival.
Thunder roared outside, attesting to the storm’s unrelenting violence. Shadach heard Aoife fumbling for him in the darkness. He reached out, finding the smoothness of her forearm first and then her delicate hand. He clasped her hand in his, her shaking fingers pressing into his skin.
The sound of gravel scraping.
The echo of heavy breathing.
Shadach could see more of her outline in the dark now. She put her hand on his neck. Then his shoulder. She felt him, searching for the knowledge of where his body was. He reached for what he thought was her waist and pulled her close, his arm nestling against the soft curve of her lower back.
“Should we lay down?” The cold made her voice stop and start.
“Might be more comfortable.”
She pressed her wet body against his, a surge of warmth rushing through him despite the cold. He guided her down with him. The stone floor was rigid and harsh, but she was warm. Gentle. Her pelvis pushed against him and hot need surged through him.
No. Not now. Now was about survival. Think of something else. Vegetables. Those weren’t sexy. Except for the ones shaped like—
Shadows. The Shadows weren’t sexy. Except for the ones born of lies about—
Climbing trees. That wasn’t sexy. Except for that one time he climbed so high he could see the Empress’s—
“So.” Aoife lay rigid against him, as if afraid to move, afraid to touch the wrong part of him. “This isn’t awkward.”
Shadach’s laugh came out hoarse. “You can get comfortable, you know. We’re going to be here all night.”
“I’m not exactly sure how a person gets comfortable in this situation.”
Pressing his hand to the small of her back, Shadach pulled Aoife closer. Her breasts pressed into his chest and his mind went wild with what it would be like to touch them. To suck them.
“Pretend,” he said, “I’m a big, cuddly pillow.”
Her breath of laughter against his neck was hot.
Warming and erotic. She said nothing. Moved nothing.
And then, slowly, she pressed a hand to his chest. Carefully, hesitantly, she moved her hand down.
Down, down, down to his stomach. She traced the outline of his abs, as if counting each one as she went along.
Touching. Feeling. Setting his skin on fire.
When she had reached his fourth and last row of abs, her finger traced down a little further.
Brushing the base of his cock. A faint moan escaped him and Aoife jerked her hand away, quickly wrapping her arm around his waist.
“You always feel up your pillows?” Shadach said.
“I was looking for your waist.”
“That’s what they all say.”
He could feel the blush radiating from her.
She splayed her hand against his bare back, and that simple action did more to heat his blood than any roaring fire.
Shadach felt that lust, that desperate want surging in him again.
Just like at the Knitting Widow. As if the God of Lust himself had set a spark between them and would not be satisfied until they had drowned in worshipful lust again. And again. And again.
Who was Shadach to deny the God his worship?
There are reasons. Plenty of good reasons, he told himself. He knew he had those reasons … but with the intoxicating scent of her wrapping around him as tightly as her body, he couldn’t think of them just now.
“You know,” he said, before he could stop himself, “a bit of worship would help generate heat. And the God did save us. We wouldn’t want to be ungrateful.”
Her sharp inhale solidified his desire, hardening his cock against her stomach.
“I thought you said worshipping with me was a mistake.” Her breath was hot against his cheek, reminding Shadach of that wanton lust in her eyes, the way she had given herself to him in reckless worship. Unafraid of who he was, fearless to touch him and to be seen by him.
“I was wrong to say that. I thought you were being disingenuous.” Shadach brushed his hand through her hair. She responded by resting her head on his chest and his heart thrashed.
She hesitated, heat coming into her voice when she said, “Of course it was genuine.”
She had lied though. Obviously there had been something that wasn’t.
“Why,” she said, “does that matter so much to you?”
Shadach hesitated, trying to remember his reasons despite his wild pulse pounding in his ears.
“The world is full of so many lies,” he said.
“So many deceits. Manipulations. If people are willing to treat the God like they treat each other then nothing is sacred … but there should be things that are sacred. Lines that are not crossed. Lies that are never told.”
She was silent for a moment then whispered, “That’s very romantic. But also perfectly flawed logic.” Her voice was hot. Breathy. As if he had read her erotic poetry rather than speaking his mind.
“There’s nothing wrong with a little flawed logic.” He splayed his hand against her back, feeling the smoothness, the wetness of her body.
“I beg to differ.” She nestled closer, her pelvis brushing against him and making him fight a groan.
“You can beg all you like.” He couldn’t help the thickness of his voice, straining as he was to keep his lust in check.
“Logic gets you to a point, but dreams take you all the way.” He took a breath, trying to calm his heart, trying, failing, to remind himself that this was only about survival.
That the rules of the world, and his life, did not cease to exist because Aoife had arrived.
“If I’d done what was logical, I would be a criminal.
Not a partially-respectable citizen of the Kingdom. ”
“Funny,” Aoife moved her hand over his bicep, feeling the strength of it. “I thought,” her voice hesitated on the gentlest of moans as she felt him, “you were on the run because everybody who’s somebody wants us dead.”
“Strictly speaking, they want you dead.” Shadach traced his finger over Aoife’s bottom lip. Her breath was quick. Irresistibly sensual. “I can be ignored.”
“Because you’re a partially-respectable citizen of the Kingdom.”
“Emphasis on ‘partially’.”
Aoife traced her hand down his back, her fingers lingering on his ass. His pelvis pushed into her on instinct, his hardness pulsing against her.
“I don’t think there’s much that’s ‘partial’ about you,” she said. Breathless. Primal. A thrill ran through him.
Shadach traced down her back, her body curving to his touch as if she could not have stopped herself, even if she’d wanted to. He certainly couldn’t. Shadach gripped her round, luscious ass and she gave a thready gasp. That sound. Oh, that sound. He wanted to hear it again.
And again.
And again.
Don’t forget she could stab you in the back as easily as she could worship with you, he told himself.
But the thoughts were as good as smoke in the wind.
She ran her hands down his chest. Slow. Reverent.
Feeling with her fingers and tasting with her kisses.
Every kiss caused a fresh wave of lust to crash through him, his breath hitching.
She traced the outline of his abs, feeling every indent, every hardness, as if she was trying to memorise him.
To see him fully even in darkness. She moved her hands down.
Down to his pelvis, tracing the sharp lines that joined his pelvis and his thighs.
Her breath was sharp and hot against his neck as she went lower. Lower.
Lower.
He groaned as she found his hardness, her gasp sharp and thrilling as she held his thickness. She felt his cock with the same slow, reverent curiosity she had felt the rest of him. The length of him, the girth, she touched and she stroked, brushing against his balls and making him impossibly hard.
She will bring you to ruin.
But this didn’t feel like ruin. No. It was unlike any touch, any worship he’d had before. There was no cynicism, no darkness. It felt like pure curiosity, pure passion.
Pure worship.
Shadach worked his leg in between her thighs, feeling something thicker and sweeter than rain on her skin.
His cock ached at the thought of how wet she was, at the memory of how she had moulded to his touch in the Knitting Widow.
Oh, the things he couldn’t wait to make her feel.
How he wanted to touch her, explore her the way she did him.
“I don’t even have words for how hot you are.
” Aoife’s words were quick and lusty in the darkness.
How hot. Not how dangerous, not how scandalous, not how criminal.
He groaned at the heat in her words and rubbed his leg against her clit.
The moan that escaped her made all memories of the cold disappear.
His body was on fire.
Aoife undulated to the rhythm of his thigh stroking her.
He moved slow, at first, then faster as her gentle moans and soft breaths grew heavier.
The sound of her raspy breath made him want to kiss her senseless.
Pulling her close, Shadach kissed her neck, her cheek, her forehead in search of her lips in the dark.
When he finally found her soft, full mouth he kissed her.
Hard. She melted into him, digging her fingers into his back to pull him closer and making his pulse thrash.
Moving his hand to her lower back, he pulled her even closer, his hard cock pressing against her stomach.
How he wanted to be inside her. To feel her.
To make her quiver and scream from lust and passion. To feel her warmth, her wet and tight—
She grasped his cock, taking him in hand with gentle strength.
His legs tensed, his breathing ragged as she moved her hand up.
Down. Up. Down. Playing his body like a musical instrument.
Her slick hands sent a flurry of heat through him, the pressure in his cock building with every expert stroke of her fingers.
Shadach peppered her naked, wet body with kisses, tasting her sweet, salty skin as he worked his way to her luscious breasts.
They were the perfect size for his hands, her nipples puckered and ready for the tasting.
Aoife gasped as he plumped her breasts then placed one taut nipple in his mouth.
Shadach sucked. Hard. Her back arched in a convulsing movement, sounds that almost made words, but didn’t, whispering from her mouth.
He had found her again. The woman from the tavern, the woman wild with passion and lust. By the God in all his forms, Shadach wanted to see her, feel her, taste her as he brought her to the brink of mindless pleasure.
But she was threatening to bring him there first.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Her hand moved in delicious, tantalising movements.
Shadach groaned around her nipple as Aoife rocked her clit against his leg, the motion pressing her nipple deeper into his mouth. He obliged her silent request, sucking and licking her nipple until her moans could be heard through the storm.
He really ought to have stopped. They were being too loud. What if Aristen was close by? But he couldn’t stop. Not with the way she moaned, the way she clung to him, the way she indulged in his touch. Indulged in him.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
He was close. Too close. Slow it down. Think of something else. Shadach wasn’t ready to orgasm, wasn’t ready to let this feeling go. But Aoife was making that difficult.
Very. Difficult.
Her breath against his neck, her wet sex rubbing against his leg, her hand coaxing pleasure from him.
It was far too much to resist. Shadach released her nipple from his mouth, kissing his way to her other breast, making her nearly choke on her own moan.
He moved his hand between her thighs, feeling the thick wetness that had long since drenched his leg.
She was ready. She was so ready. He slid his finger inside her with ease.
She clung to him with her free hand, fingernails digging into his arm as he went deep inside her.
She clenched his finger with her pussy as she gripped his cock with her hand.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
Too good. It was too good. He sucked her nipple, pumping his finger in. Out. In. Out. She clenched around him, the sound of skin scraping gravel, of too much pleasure and not enough air hissing through the dark.
In. Out. In. Out.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
In. Out. In. Out.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
Her body shivered as he tensed, the orgasm rocking through his body in thrilling currents. Shadach heard her sharp cry, her body going taut and then collapsing into him.
Desperate breaths. Eager gasping.
Shadach didn’t know if he’d ever worshipped with such intensity. Her body. Her hands. Her taste. They were godly. He pulled her close as the wind shrieked outside the cave, the thunder roaring its curses into the night. Aoife dozed beside him, utterly spent.
Almost dying was exhausting.