Chapter Thirty-Two #2
Kael stands, shrugging out of his shirt, and the night air kisses the breadth of him—broad shoulders carved like a sculptor’s obsession, muscles taut with restrained power, veins tracing down his forearms like rivers of strength.
Constellations inked across his chest catch the silver wash of Starlight that peeks through the windows, making it seem as though the cosmos themselves were branded into his flesh.
He looks less like a man and more like a god unmasked—beautiful, terrible, inevitable.
The Lightborne and Sky must tread as one.
“The Sky,” I breathe, reminding myself that it’s always been him. I swallow thickly at the sight, because gods, he’s fucking beautiful.
His gorgeous smirk returns, and the sight of it turns me molten.
“Will you let me undress you, Elyssara?” he requests, eyes hooded with barely restrained need. The outline of his cock presses against his trousers, and my breathing starts to become ragged, unhinged.
I press into my elbows to sit up on the edge of the bed. “Yes,” I allow.
“Arms up, darling,” he instructs.
I raise my arms above my head obediently, and he unclasps my leather armor and pulls my tunic over my head with a gentleness that contradicts every hard line of his body.
I want to cover myself—to wrap my arms around myself to shield his eyes from my scars. My brand. To spare myself his pity. But I resist. My scars won’t own my present either.
“Don’t even think about hiding yourself from me,” he demands, noticing the way I shrink into myself. “I want all of you, Elyssara.”
I swallow down my discomfort, but force myself to sit taller. To wear my wounds like proof of survival.
“Better,” Kael approves, and his encouragement emboldens me. “My woman hides from no one.” His eyes drink me in like I am nectar of the gods themselves.
My breasts hang low and heavy on my chest, desperate for his touch. His claim.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, staring at me as if I am born of Starlight itself.
My chest rises and falls in anticipation, and ripples of arousal bloom in my core.
“Stand for me,” he directs, his voice a heady mix of claim and direction.
I obey. Unable to resist the way he owns the moment. Owns it without pretense.
He unties my leathers with deft fingers that know what to do. I don’t move. I’m under his spell. And I’m glad of it.
He slips my undergarments and leather trousers over my hips, and slowly, he pulls them down, tracing the full length of my legs with his thumbs.
His eyes land on my pussy, wet and swollen with need, heat in his eyes. He rakes his gaze upward, lingering on every curve, every dip, every scar. “You are everything I begged the Stars for,” he murmurs, voice rough and low.
My breath hitches. But I can’t say anything. Not yet. It’s too soon.
“I know you’re not ready, but that won’t stop me from telling you of your beauty. My woman deserves nothing less.”
My woman.
I hate it, but the words push my arousal to the edge—I need touch.
I need to feel something for me.
“Touch me,” I demand, craving him.
“Yes, Your Highness,” he complies, amused—as if he’s accepting orders from a superior.
He closes the distance between us and possesses my mouth. His chest presses against my breasts, and my nipples harden at the friction.
He kisses me deeply, passionately, completely. His hands wrap around the nape of my neck, cradling me like I’m something precious.
But the intimacy of it unsettles me.
Kissing is for lovers. Sex is for escaping. And I need escape.
I pull back, breaking the kiss with finality.
I spin my body, pressing my ass into him in invitation, and sweeping my braids over the front of my shoulder.
I don’t want to get lost in the oceans of his eyes; I want to travel far from here on waves of pleasure.
“I want to be fucked, Kael,” I snap, frustrated.
He doesn’t say anything.
But he understands. Instantly.
And he gives me what I want.
Because his huge, calloused palm presses firmly into the space between my shoulders and throws my chest forward so I’m bent over, resting my hands on the bed.
A whimper escapes my lips. Because I need this. I need to be lost to pleasure.
I spread my legs, pressing my ass back—an invitation to take me.
His hands caress my ass in worship and I know his gaze is on me—getting his fill.
One hand sweeps between my legs and he hums appreciatively with raw satisfaction at the evidence of my arousal. “You do wanna be fucked, don’t you, El?”
His voice shifts from reverence to raw, devotional to dirty.
And I fucking crave it.
I force myself to nod, frustration building at the way he’s making me wait.
“Words, El. You know how this works,” he says, voice smoky and raw. And I do.
“Yes, Kael. I want to be fucked,” I grit out in agitation.
He drops to his knees in one swift motion, and a surprised gasp slips from my mouth as I feel his ragged breath against the cheek of my ass.
“You don’t get to make all the rules, darling,” he teases.
Oh gods.
His hands grip my ass, and he blazes kisses across each cheek with lust and the promise of sin.
Heat coils low in my belly with every slow, claiming drag of his mouth. My pulse stutters, caught between fear, wanting, and the unbearable relief of being wanted like this.
Then he spreads my cheeks, and his tongue sweeps up my center.
Holy fucking Stars.
A moan escapes my lips at the immediate pleasure that spreads through my core like wildfire.
“Mmm, you like that, El?” he asks between licks with his wicked tongue.
But I don’t answer with my words, I only grind my hips, pushing back into his mouth, chasing the escape it offers.
And that is answer enough, because he responds to the movement. His pace increases as he explores me, tastes me, builds pleasure in ways I didn’t know existed.
Time unspools. There is no castle, no prophecy, no war—only heat and breath and the obscene, wet sounds of him worshipping me.
My fingers curl in the furs, desperate for something to anchor me, but even that slips as my body loosens, unmoors.
For once, the roar in my head quiets, drowned out by the tide of pleasure he drags from me with every stroke of his tongue.
The world narrows to the scrape of his stubble against my skin and the molten pull low in my belly.
Each drag of his tongue steals another breath, another thought, until I’m nothing but nerve endings and need.
And when he groans into me, the vibration shreds what’s left of my sanity—raw, hungry sounds that tell me he’s as ruined by this as I am.
He holds me open with strong hands, as if the very act of tasting me is a privilege he intends to worship until I break.
And escape takes me.
I’m floating, drifting, swimming in the pleasure.
My eyes close, and the world around me fades to nothing but a blur of erotic ecstasy.
Rhythmic moans hum from my throat, and my pleasure builds, approaching a crest that will shatter me.
And I want it.
I need it.
But Kael’s hands grip my hips, almost painfully, ripping me from pleasure and forcing me back into the room. Here. With him.
Everything sharpens into focus.
Kael yanks my hips back, and scoops up my chest so my back is flush against his torso. His powerful hand pulls my chest firm against him, and his palm rests against my heart. His lips press hungry, reverent kisses across the sensitive flesh of my neck.
Gods.
It feels like he kissed my soul back into my body—like he gathered every shattered piece of me and breathed them into place.
“Escape into me, Elyssara. Not away from me. Look at me. Stay here. Use me. Take from me. But don’t run,” he breathes into my ear. “Eyes open, darling.”
I fight the urge to pull out of his grasp. To push him away. To run from this intimacy. From his eyes that beg me to stay.
But the head and the heart rarely agree.
The same hands that could snap bone and spill blood are on me now, tracing my skin like I’m something sacred. There’s a reverence to it. Something holy. And fuck, maybe that’s why I feel safe—because all the ruin these hands could unleash, they bow to me.
I acquiesce.
I exhale a breath, and give him a small nod.
He nuzzles into my hair, nipping at the delicate skin between my neck and shoulder, pressing a string of burning kisses along my skin.
“Stay, El,” he breathes, as he slowly pulls back.
He tugs at the end of my braids, unraveling the leather straps, and unweaving the braids until my hair cascades down my back in waves of auburn and gold.
“Beautiful,” he exhales.
Then, he spins me—
He spins me so quickly, I don’t register the movement until his eyes are locked on mine in a silent promise.
Stay with me.
I swallow thickly at his intensity that bores into me. But I nod in agreement.
I’ll stay with you.
Kael looks at me like I carry the last light in a dying world.
He unfastens his trousers, pushing them past his hips to the floor, and his hard cock springs from his pants.
Gods.
Molten heat flares to life in my core again, because this man? The sight of him undoes me. Ruins me. Fractures my desire to build walls around my heart and makes me want to let them crumble instead.
“Lie down, Elyssara,” he instructs.
I do as he bids, letting my ass rest into the furs before unfolding onto my elbows then onto my back.
“Spread your legs,” he orders.
I open my legs, and he climbs onto the bed, pressing between my thighs, and dragging his battle-hardened hands across my skin like a brand. A brand I want.
I press heavier into the furs, allowing myself to let go.
My head drops back, and my eyes drift closed as he caresses my skin with tenderness.
“No,” he says firmly, and my eyes snap open at the call back to him. “Eyes on me, my love,” he commands. “No running.”
My gaze lands on his, and the vortex of his ocean eyes enraptures me. Pulls me in so thoroughly that there is only him.
His grip finds my hips again, pulling me back towards him so his cock presses into me, teasing my pussy.