Chapter Eighteen #2
“I’m not worried,” Einar murmured, driving his fingers deeper. “You’ve already taken the Lover in all his glory, and I can feel how well he pleased you.”
“Yes, he did.” Naia pulled his hair harder. “Show him.”
A command he was all too eager to obey. Einar bit her jaw, savoring the stinging pleasure that echoed through the room, then lifted his hand to clasp her wrist, where her fingers were tangled in his hair. “Let go, love.”
She did, and Einar guided her hand to the rumpled blankets before dragging his fingers up her arm and across her bare shoulder.
A hand splayed at the small of her back was all it took to bend her forward, until she was braced on her elbows, facing Aleksi.
He took his time straightening, dragging the rough tips of his fingers down the sensitive skin of her spine and across the soft flare of her hip.
For one moment he stilled in the near silence of the room, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and their unsteady breaths.
His silvery skin shimmered in that firelight as he gripped Naia’s hip with one hand and his cock in the other, the sight of her bent forward before him, waiting—eager—so heady it barely seemed real.
Then he pushed into her, the silence shattered by his guttural groan. The fire in the hearth roared up, illuminating Naia’s face as she threw her head back and clenched both hands in the velvet coverlet.
Einar met Aleksi’s eyes as he rocked forward, driving deeper into the welcoming heat of Naia’s body.
Some part of him—a part that was still a man—screamed to go slow, to work his way into her body with gentle care.
A deeper part, ancient and knowing, laughed in dark pleasure as he clasped her hips in both hands.
This was no fragile mortal woman. This wasn’t even the sweet water nymph who’d first taken him into her body. This was the goddess, the spirit of the island itself, vast and ancient and fighting the grip on her hips as she struggled to squirm back, to take more of him. To take all of him.
He would never need to hold back with Naia. So he didn’t.
She cried out when he thrust into her, and he shouldn’t have worried about hurting her, not when the Lover’s magic wrapped her pleasure around him like a dizzying echo.
He felt her bliss as he surged deeper, her body somehow impossibly tight even as it yielded to him.
There was no pain, not even when he advanced again, working the thickest part of his cock into her.
Her fingers tangled in the quilt in front of her, and fabric tore.
Her back arched in a sensual curve, her panting breaths hitching as the thick ridges around his shaft rubbed along the most sensitive places deep within her.
He couldn’t stop himself from looking down to where their bodies met, the darkest part of him craving the sight of this moment.
His goddess, on her knees before him, any submission in the position lost in the imperious tilt of her hips and the sounds she made—impatient, hungry, so demanding there was nothing he could do but give her what she wanted.
Einar tightened his hands on her hips and slammed into her hard enough to drive a hoarse scream from her lips. Her forehead dropped to the bed, breaths coming in ragged gasps as her body fluttered around him, already so close to the edge he almost lost his grip on sanity.
Lifting his head, he found the Lover’s wild gaze. “Can you feel it?” he growled to Aleksi. “Can you feel me?”
“I feel everything,” Aleksi answered, his mild tone completely at odds with the violent swirl of color in his eyes. Something whispered over Einar’s skin, a warning and a promise, a pressure at the small of his back that urged him to stroke into her again.
So he did, taking the mirrored pleasure with her gasping cries, feeling the way every hard ridge of his cock dragged across secret places that made her tremble. It was a reckless power, knowing to nudge her knees just a little wider, knowing exactly how high to lift her hips.
He used the awareness gifted by the Lover to fuck her so deep and so hard that she erupted in pleasure so violent, he had to grit his teeth and harness two thousand years of self-control not to tumble after her.
Not yet. Not so fast. Not while there was so much more he could show Aleksi.
Releasing her hip, he snaked an arm beneath her body and hauled her upright. His knees drove her thighs even wider apart, and she moaned as the position drove him even deeper into the still-clenching heat of her body. His other hand stole around her waist and down, fingers finding slick softness.
He didn’t even have to thrust like this, just tease the roughened pad of one finger over her clit, and her hips jerked, until she was riding him in frantic little rocking movements.
Einar turned his face to her temple, and though he whispered the words against her skin, they were for Aleksi. “Am I all you can feel?”
Her moan was answer enough. But she didn’t accept pleasure passively. Her thighs flexed, and she rolled her hips, grinding down against him while her inner muscles squeezed tight, and that last delicate strand of sanity holding him back snapped.
With a heave of muscle, he lifted her off him and tossed her onto her back.
Her satisfied laughter cut off in another moan as he dragged her thighs wide and thrust back into her hard enough to drive her across the rumpled bedding.
And it was so much better like this, propping himself up on his elbows so he could stare down into her eyes as he drove into her.
She stared back at him, her wide eyes no longer brown kissed with black and gold flecks, but churning with indescribable colors.
She whispered his name, though her parted lips did not move, and the colors expanded, dragging him down beneath the waves until she was his entire universe.
He tangled his fingers in the hair sprawled across the sheets, and by the firelight the strands looked sun-kissed auburn instead of brown.
Her fingernails scraped over his scalp, and it was as if he had felt it untold times before.
He knew what she would do next, exactly how she would tighten her fingers, the way she would drag him down for a demanding kiss, a tangle of teeth and tongues.
She had felt right from the first moment he touched her, and now he knew why.
He had fucked her a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, and if there was ever a moment for him to remember, surely it was now—wrapped in the power of the Lover, drowning in how good she felt, and how good he made her feel, his pleasure and hers tangled up.
Then she hooked her leg over his hip, pulling him deeper as her nails scratched down his back with a force that would have broken anyone else’s skin, and it didn’t matter that he didn’t have the storm god’s memories.
He had her, beneath him, begging him to fuck her harder, to fuck her faster, to—
“Look at me.”
It was Aleksi’s voice, but it was more. The Lover, his command sliding over them like silken bonds. Their heads turned as one.
The Lover glowed. He had not moved from his position, pinned against the huge headboard, but he seemed . . . closer, almost looming over them. He smiled, more affection—and lust—than amusement curving his lush lips.
Then he spoke again. “I don’t need my hands free to fuck you both.”
The words were a teasing caress. A warning stroke. They were fine wine and dark nights and gasping for breath only for pleasure to sweep you under again.
And then it wasn’t the words. It was him.
Warm hands stroked Einar’s sides. They teased up his arms and down his legs.
Fingernails traced his spine, his jaw, the small of his back.
Naia dug her head back against the sheets, mouth parted in a helpless cry, and he could feel those touches, too.
Her pleasure echoed through him as Aleksi’s hands stroked down her throat, as they tangled in her hair, as they cupped her breasts and tugged teasingly at her nipples.
It didn’t matter that he still hadn’t moved.
He was everywhere. His lips were pressed against Einar’s ear, whispering obscenities, and his teeth were sinking down into the curve of his ass, and Naia was sobbing as his tongue circled her clit, driving her into an orgasm so violent the clenching of her body hazed Einar’s vision.
He came, ecstasy a white haze that wiped away the world.
His cock stayed rock hard. Aleksi’s dark laughter stroked them in places his hands couldn’t reach.
Einar didn’t know where his body ended and Naia’s began anymore.
He didn’t know which of them Aleksi was bending over, only that strong hands held them steady as he worked his cock into their ass in relentless strokes so gentle and so deep that they felt utterly possessed.
Maybe it was both of them, because they came together this time, bodies shuddering as one.
There was no respite. No pause. The Lover tangled a hand in Einar’s hair and rode him at the same time his mouth closed around Einar’s cock, swallowing him impossibly to the root.
He was fucking Naia everywhere, leaving ravaging bites across her breasts while he sucked her clit while he rode her, too, fucking her with his cock, with his fingers, with his tongue.
Pleasure wasn’t a peak anymore. Release was not a relief, not when the tension broke into shuddering waves of pleasure only to tighten again before you drew a full breath. It was exquisite agony—it was bliss so intense it was unbearable.
Aleksi was the entire world, and the entire world was fucking them.
“Cintah.” Naia choked out the word as her back arched, and her fingernails raked desperately over Einar’s arms and chest. “Cintah.”