11. The Cage of His Love #2
A swift pang of guilt twisted in Allora's chest. Dariose.
She had pushed Surian to walk with him earlier, thinking it was sweet, romantic even.
If she had known he was just trying to get in her panties for some political breeding scheme, she never would have done that.
God, she was so inept when it came to Awyan politics and their stupid rules.
Allora snorted, rolling her eyes. "God, Malec.
You should sell your man juice to them. Get yourself a country, or a castle out of it. "
His eyes snapped to hers, suddenly serious and unamused. He leaned closer, his pale gaze burning into her. "Dove," he said, voice low, dangerous. "My seed is not a coin to barter. It is not for castles or crowns. Nor for dynasties. It is only for you."
Allora gave him a flat look, sarcasm turning stark. “Malec, it might be your only chance to have children. You can’t have one with me. You know that.”
His hand on her chin tightened, just slightly, but enough to make her feel the tremor in his resolve. His sand-washed burned into hers, unflinching.
"I care nothing for children," he said, his voice low and rough.
"I care nothing for heirs, or legacies, or the bloodline my kin would wring from me.
You think I ache for babes in arms?" He shook his head once.
"No. I ache only for my Allora." He leaned closer, his forehead brushing hers, his breath ragged.
"If fate denies us children, then so be it.
I would rather die childless than ever put one in another who is not you.
" His thumb dragged over her lower lip, his gaze fierce, almost feverish.
"Understand me, Allora. I do not want the world. I want you. And that is enough."
Allora sighed, exasperated at his ridiculous, overdramatic way of speaking. "Ugh, Malec. You're such a drama queen."
He didn't flinch at the jab. Instead, he leaned in and touched his nose to hers, his voice a whisper against her lips. "I only speak the truth from my heart."
She rolled her eyes again but didn't pull away.
She was glad, relieved even, that she had managed to derail his probing questions.
One last grace, she decided. She would give him this, a moment of peace before she slipped from his grasp.
There were times like this when she almost wished things had played out differently, when she imagined him courting her like a normal suitor, with flowers, patience, and tenderness instead of chains and fire.
In that version of her life, she would have fallen in love with him.
She was certain of it. She knew he was broken, that he did not fully understand love, but that did not excuse his behavior.
He treated her like property, a possession to dominate.
And he would never change. He was nearly three centuries old, and she was barely in her thirties. There was no excuse.
So with a final, bittersweet decision, she lifted her head and pressed her lips to his.
The effect was immediate. Malec's reaction was visceral.
His body heated like a forge, the hunger in him breaking free.
He devoured her mouth, one hand sliding up her side as the other pulled her thin nightgown over her head.
He maneuvered his body over hers with practiced urgency, pressing his leg between hers to part them.
Allora's fingers tangled in his hair, tugging loose the tie. His platinum strands spilled around her face, a curtain of silk as their kiss deepened. Malec pulled back then, hovering above her, his breath ragged, his sand colored eyes searching hers as though begging permission.
She smiled up at him. "I promised you a reward, didn't I?"
He let out a sound that was a breathy laugh, a tremor of relief breaking across his face. His hand went to the drawstring of his trousers, tugging it loose with desperate precision. Sitting back on his knees, he pulled his shirt over his head, baring his hard, scarred frame to her touch.
Allora's hands wandered over his chest and stomach, tracing every ridge of muscle, every mark earned in battle. Malec's control faltered; he shoved at the waistband of his trousers with the frantic need of a starving man.
He had never pressed, not once initiated, terrified of breaking their fragile peace. But now, with her kiss and promise, he was undone.
He didn't waste time. His breath came in explosive bursts as he slowly pressed his length into the warmth of her, his body taut with anticipation.
Heat crawled over his skin like wildfire from the sheer friction of him entering her, the slick heat of her body pulling him deeper.
He was slick with precome already, the head of him wet as he pushed through her entrance, and the sensation tore a guttural sound from his throat.
The ache inside him was unbearable, but it was a glorious ache.
Without reverence or pause, he pushed himself fully into her.
He moaned into her mouth at the piercing hot sensation that ran through his nervous system, stopping any movement and holding her down to make sure she didn't move because if she budged even an inch he was going to explode right then and there.
He had to momentarily pull away from her lips just to breathe.
When his mouth found hers again, he claimed her with desperate hunger.
The bond surged, wrapping around them both, and for a heartbeat he again feared he might come before he started.
Her gasp broke against his lips, and he swallowed the sound like it was breath itself, his tongue tangling with hers, pulling her deeper into him.
She clutched at him, fierce and unyielding, her fire answering his storm.
Every movement, every tremor in her body, echoed through him as if it were his own.
His mouth trailed to her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, imprinting every note of her on his memory as if it might be taken from him tomorrow.
Allora's body arched into his, her nails dragging across his back, demanding more, giving him no choice but to obey the call of her flame.
The friction built between them, wet and perfect, her body slick around him as he moved.
She could feel him everywhere, the thick stretch of him filling her completely, the heat radiating from his skin into hers.
And beneath it all, through the tether, an ache moved through her chest at what she found there: his love.
Searing, unrelenting, vast enough to drown in.
He wanted her. Only her. The bond pulsed with it, raw and unashamed, and she could feel how much her body affected him, how she made him lose every shred of control he so carefully maintained.
God, she wished he wasn't like this. Wished he wasn't so possessive, so consuming. Because moments like this, when she could feel the truth of him laid bare, when his devotion crashed over her in waves, she almost believed it could work. Almost.
But she was too hard-headed for that. She knew better. It would never work, not for long. Not with her.
"Malec, uhn!" Allora yelped as she tried to control the rhythm, but he wasn't going to let her have this round.
She had all the other rounds; this was his turn, and he took it.
He lifted off her slightly, and she looked at him confused as he flipped her body over onto her belly.
He sat up on his knees, putting his arms around her waist as he pulled her hips up, her face and chest pressed against the sheets.
He held her right hand to keep her from being hurt by his large weight and size.
Malec whispered, "Feel me, liri. As deeply as I feel you.
" With that, he positioned himself at her entrance.
Allora was panting into the sheets as he shoved himself deep, all the way to the hilt.
He groaned out loud, almost a roar, feeling her wetness coat him, the slick slide of their joining making his vision blur.
Malec then continued thrusting, his other hand wrapped tightly around her waist, pushing her hips back into him, controlling the rhythm and speed.
It was a position of dominance and claim.
She was the only one who would ever get his love and consideration, and he wanted her to feel him.
The motion turned wild as Allora began to scream.
He could feel her slick walls grasping him, wet and tight, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room.
Through the tether, he could feel her intense pleasure, the way it built in her core.
She was elated and confused but not displeased.
A smirk crossed his face at the thought that he was the cause of her sheer enjoyment, but it disappeared as the first wave of an orgasm hit her and her body began to convulse.
Her walls tugged and pulled at him, milking his length, coaxing his release, encouraging him to pour himself into her.
The wetness between them grew, her rapture spilling over him as she clenched around him.
It was after the third contraction of her muscles that his body finally gave in, and he buried his length deep into her.
He lost his grip on her hand, and now he had both hands on her waist, the only thing holding him up as wave after wave hit him.
The first pulse tore through him like lightning, white-hot and blinding, radiating from the base of his spine and exploding outward.
He spilled into her, hot and thick, filling her completely as the bond flared between them.
The sensation was overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity.
Each subsequent pulse felt stronger than the last, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep inside her, the wet heat of their joining amplifying every nerve ending.
He could feel it, the rush of his release coating her walls, the way her body clenched around him in response, pulling more from him.