58 #2
Biting back another grin, I plant wet kisses along Ezla’s neck, and she tilts her head back to give me more access, a satisfied hum leaving her as she buries her hands in my dark blond hair and tugs me higher up for more.
Happy to oblige, my lips find hers again.
But when she naturally tries to make it more aggressive, more frenetic like hers and Tate’s kisses, I break away.
It’s not that I don’t love it—because I absolutely do, and my cock can attest to that—but that’s not the kind of love I want to show her right at this moment.
I want her to experience tenderness and crave it as much as a good rough fucking.
I want her to experience passion in all its different forms, and, in time, I’ll give her every single one of them.
“Do you want me to take your hair down, Love?” I murmur before Ezla can chomp my head off and spit it back out, eyeing the gorgeous updo she’s done. I wonder if there’s anything this brilliant woman beneath me can’t do?
“I am too impatient. Wait until later. There is many pins to take out, and I am trying my hardest to remain tolerant right now.”
A smile stretches my lips, and I dip my chin, able to see the truth in her simmering stare and not wanting to push more than I already have when I can tell how difficult this already is for her.
“Of course, Love.” Shifting my hips, I let her feel how hard and ready I am for her, her wetness glazing my skin, heating my blood to scorching as she moans wordlessly in her notes of velvet in anticipation. “You ready for me?”
“Yes,” she snaps, before trying again when I arch a brow, attempting a calmer tone, “Yes . . .”
Chuckling, I kiss the tip of her nose, and her glare becomes cross-eyed as she keeps track of me like she thinks I’m about to bite it off, encouraging that chuckle to grow into a louder, hearty laugh. “You’re adorable.”
She smacks the back of my head.
Fuck, that hurt.
“Fuck me. I want your cock inside me. Now.”
My dick twitches, hot and heavy against her thigh, and pre-cum drips onto her skin. But still, I raise another brow.
“Please,” she grits out, smile razor-sharp. I can see her imagining those teeth sinking into my neck.
“I didn’t need you to beg, Love. But it’s nice to know you’re so desperate for me.”
Ezla curses colourfully, but that stops mid-insult when I grip my cock and nudge the head against her entrance, sliding it up and down her sopping slit.
Groaning, my lashes flutter closed—before quickly opening again, not wanting anything restricting my access to any part of her.
My restraint is fraying, the thread close to snapping.
An arm braced on the pillow by her head, I bury my hand in that thick bun of hair, feeling the mentioned pins. The deep chestnut strands are so damn soft, the updo voluminous and ridiculously pleasing against my skin. And despite my earlier decision, I can’t help but start to take the pins out.
Tiger rushes over once more to collect them while an impatient Ezla glares up at me.
Smiling yet again, I—
“Love . . . why is there a dagger in your hair?”
She stares back at my incredulous face impassively as I slide the short and slim sheathed weapon from her strands. “I would not go anywhere without a weapon. Just because it is forbidden at the Halfway Ball, it does not make anyone safe. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“Vengeance, I think the only danger in a place you’re at is you,” Cooper says with amusement colouring his tone, eyeing the compact dagger.
It looks more like an enlarged needle that I have no doubt is real gold like everything else, probably designed specifically for her, too.
And it really is beautiful, the thin hilt a pure gold, while the sheath is ivory inlaid with elegant swirling designs, the colour scheme perfectly matching that of the ballroom we’d been in only an hour ago.
On someone inexperienced, the weapon could be pretty useless for defending themselves, but with her, I know she could relieve everyone in any given room of every ligament, muscle, and bone in a heartbeat and strut away without a scratch.
My brother takes this one with more care, instinctively knowing it’s the most important even before Ezla’s eyes narrow on it as though she’s prepared to use it on him if he so much as breathes on it.
Head lightly shaking from side to side, I stomp down on my amusement and continue to work on the pins in my Bonded’s hair, carefully sliding them out to make sure no strands get caught and tugged on, her unimpressed stare returning to me as I do.
Except I can feel her relief, gratitude even, when her hair’s freed, the only decorations remaining now the golden thread weaved throughout her curled chestnut strands. She looks different with the waves and curls—just as beautiful, yet with an almost . . . softer look.
“I will be sure to never curl my hair again.”
Ezla’s words make me laugh once more, and I’m not bothered that she’s in my head again. I love it, in fact, when it means she cares enough to be there and gets to experience the truth of my love and intentions.
Tenderly pressing my lips to hers, her smaller hands find my biceps, and she’s near hesitant when she returns my kiss, still trying to get used to the gentleness.
My fingers massage her scalp, and she sinks into the silks beneath her, letting out a contented sigh.
Happiness drifts through me at being able to give her some relief, to have made her feel good in any way possible.
I deepen the kiss then, pouring all my love into it, the passion and desire intensifying. Hiking one of her long legs over my hip, I open her up for me.
“Tell me,” I rasp against her lips before shifting away to reposition myself.
On my knees now, I notch the head of my cock at her entrance, heart now pounding in my ears like the beat of a war drum.
My hand on the underside of her knee tightens, my left forearm resting beside her sprawled-out hair.
“Tell me you want to be taken care of by me. Tell me you want my love.”
Her nostrils flare, eyes flashing with hellfire. But I’m not deterred by her refusal.
“I’m going to take care of you,” I tell her, voice lowering, leaving no room for argument. “And you’re going to let me.”
Her breasts rise and fall faster, and her hands move to my back, nails pricking my skin.
“Good girl.”
Then I sink myself inside of her in one smooth stroke, all the way to the base.
A ragged, deep moan leaves me in time with the breathy noise Ezla makes, and I press my forehead into the crook of her neck as I hitch her leg higher, stilling for a brief period to soak up this moment, chest thumping with force, before slowly pulling my lower body away, then pushing back inside her deep and hard, rolling my hips to make sure she feels every inch of me, every ridge of my cock.
“You feel so good, Love. You take me so damn well,” I breathe unsteadily as I repeat the motions.
Her silken walls flutter around me, and my hips jerk instinctively, breaking my rhythm. “Tell me—what do you need, Love?”
“Harder. Deeper. Faster.”
Deciding I can do that while still showing my affection, my adoration, for her, I pick up my pace slightly, balls slapping against her ass.
My hand shifts further up her leg and tightens on her thigh, spreading her wider for me so I can fuck into that sweet spot of hers, knowing I’m hitting it perfectly when her eyes roll back in her head that tips back into the pillow.
“Take it—take all of me,” I pant roughly.
“Yes, Scotty,” she gasps out, her voice somehow maintaining that cruel edge even now, and my cock throbs inside her in response as it drags along her walls over and over again. “Right there. Keep doing that.”