Chapter 22 #2
"Bullshit," she shot back, though her throat throbbed with anticipation. Her hands moved up his arms, tracing the hard, bunched muscle. "You don't do anything slow."
"For you?" A smile curved his lips, dark and thoroughly devastating. "I can be persuaded. But you are going to take every inch of me, little mate of mine. Again."
He pressed his hips down, dragging that impossibly thick length right against the slick, wet entrance of her pussy. The friction sent a white-hot spark straight to her brain.
"And again," he promised. "And again."
Fuck. She arched into him. Maybe she wouldn't break after all. Or maybe she just didn't care.
"I can't wait," he growled. "I have to have you. Right now." His thumb dragged hard across her lower lip. "If you don't want this, then tell me to stop. Because once I start..." His grip tightened a little… a possessive, desperate hold. "I don't think I'll be able to stop."
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
"I'm not asking you to stop," she shot back, her gaze challenging his. "Are you sure you don't want an out?"
His answer was a snarl that vibrated through every bone in her body.
Crawling over her, he pinned her to the mattress with his weight.
All that heavy, hard muscle pressed her into the sheets until she couldn't tell where she ended and he began.
One big knee shoved between her thighs, forcing them apart, and he settled into the cradle of her hips like he'd been made to fit there.
Holy shit.
He didn't look away. His burning gaze locked onto hers as he reached between them, fisting his cock. The blunt, thick head nudged against her entrance, parting slick, swollen flesh, and her breath snagged in her throat.
Then he pushed in.
One long, slow, relentless slide.
Her mouth fell open, but she couldn't make a sound. There was nothing in her brain except the raw, impossible stretch of him filling her, inch by inch, splitting her open around that ridiculous fucking cock until her eyes watered and her fingers clawed trenches into the sheets.
It burned right on the edge of too much… that bright line between pain and pleasure that made her toes curl, and her back bow off the mattress.
And it was so fucking good she almost sobbed.
"Breathe," he ordered, his voice rough like gravel.
She sucked in a breath. Her inner walls clenched around him, and he hissed through his teeth, every muscle in his arms locking as he held himself over her.
"Fuck," she gasped. "Oh God, you're—"
"I know." His forehead dropped against hers. "I know, kelarris. Take me. All of me."
He pushed deeper, and the stretch burned, a raw, aching fullness that lit up every nerve ending she owned. His hips met hers and stopped. He was buried to the hilt, his balls pressed tight against her ass.
A broken sound tore from her throat… half laugh, half sob.
Every. Fucking. Inch.
"Still alive?" he rasped, his lips brushing hers.
"Jury's out," she managed. "Ask me again in five minutes."
A low rumble shook his chest. Not a laugh. Something deeper. Something primal and thoroughly male that made her clench hard around him.
His jaw clenched. His eyes went black.
"Five minutes," he growled. "I can work with that."
And he did.
He pulled back, then surged into her so hard that the bed frame cracked against the wall.
Yes.
She lost all sense of rhythm… all she could feel was his hips driving against hers, hard and fast and relentless. Every thrust bottomed out and shoved her higher on the mattress, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he filled her over and over.
She couldn't think. Didn't want to. All she could do was dig her nails into his back and hold the fuck on.
"More," she gasped.
He growled and hooked one big hand under her knee, shoving it up toward her chest and changing the angle.
The next thrust hit so deep she saw stars.
Not the pretty, poetic kind, but the kind where the world whited out, and the only thing keeping her conscious was the relentless drag of his cock against every oversensitive nerve ending inside her.
His skin was slick with sweat, his muscles bunched and trembling with barely leashed power as he braced himself over her.
The pressure built again, fast and vicious, coiling so tight in her belly it almost hurt.
"Raaevik—" His name broke on her lips. "I'm gonna—"
"Give it to me," he ordered through clenched teeth. "Now."
He surged home one last time and ground his hips against her clit.
She shattered.
The orgasm ripped through her, white-hot and merciless. A scream tore from her throat as her pussy locked down around his cock in hard, rhythmic pulses.
"Emily—"
He roared as he came, his cock jerking and pulsing inside her. He came hard, his hips stuttering against hers as he emptied himself into her, the hot rush of his seed coating her inner walls.
His arms gave out, and he collapsed over her, catching himself on his forearms at the last second so he didn't crush her completely. His chest heaved against hers, and he buried his face into her neck.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Just breathing. Hearts thundering. Sweat cooling between them. All she could do was blink at the ceiling.
Holy shit.
She was alive. Probably.
His arms tightened around her as he rolled, taking her with him in one smooth motion.
The world shifted, and then she was sprawled across his chest, her cheek pressed against the hot, damp skin over his collarbone.
His cock slipped free, and she pouted at the sudden emptiness, her inner muscles still fluttering with tiny aftershocks.
Okay. Definitely alive. Yeah, definitely alive.
His hand found the back of her head, fingers threading through her sweat-damp curls. The other arm locked around her waist like he was afraid she'd evaporate if he loosened his grip. Under her ear, his heart hammered, slowing gradually from the brutal pace it had been keeping.
She could have stayed there forever. Just breathing him in, feeling the solid rise and fall of his chest beneath her. No guards outside the door. No emperor waiting. No ceremony, no politics, no—
Her gaze snagged on his wrist.
Dark lines traced the inside of his forearm, standing out against his skin. They hadn't been there before. Intricate, spiraling patterns that wound around both wrists like living tattoos, the black ink still settling into his skin as she watched.
"What the hell?" She grabbed his hand, turning it over.
A smile curved his lips. Slow and lazy and so thoroughly satisfied, it made her stomach flip.
"Mating marks," he breathed.
She blinked, tracing one of the lines with her fingertip. It was warm to the touch. "Okay… and what does that mean, exactly?"
He cupped her jaw with his free hand and kissed her.
Soft and sweet, it was so gentle it made her chest ache. Nothing like the desperate, bruising collision of minutes ago. This was a different kind of claiming entirely. A promise. The kind she could see stretching out ahead of them… messy and imperfect and absolutely, stubbornly theirs.
Breaking away, he rested his forehead against hers.
"It means you're mine," he murmured. "And that even the gods agree."
A smile spread across her lips. Settling back against his chest, she flattened her palm over the rough black scar above his heart. His pulse beat steady and strong beneath her hand.
His gods were a bit slow off the mark, she decided. But at least they'd gotten there in the end.