Chapter Fourteen
The door to Graves’s office was still open, and he was deep in thought. His hand was buried in his hair with a furrow on his brow as if he was solving the mysteries of the universe.
Kierse leaned against the doorframe, letting his button-up shirt hang loose over her breasts. “Hey.”
“Couldn’t sleep?” he said around the pen still in his mouth.
“Wasn’t planning on sleeping.”
His head came up, and he did a fast double take, his eyes rounding and then narrowing with desire. He dropped the pen and leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his devilish lips. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
“Yes.”
He crooked his finger at her. “Let me get a look at you.”
She strode across the room, and his hands slid up her thighs, trailing goose bumps in their wake.
“Cold?”
She shook her head, but he was already lifting her up so she could straddle his lap. His hands were on her ass before dragging back up her bare legs with a slow, deliberate grace. The heat from all of that built-up magic brushed through her.
“Have you had your fill?”
“Never,” he said as he slid a finger under the edge of her thong. He continued trailing his fingers upward, a delicate map of her body. “I’ll never have my fill of you.”
“I wish you could read me,” she whispered.
His lips came to her collarbone, where he pressed a firm kiss into her skin.
A possessive mark. “I don’t need to read you to know you, Wren.
” His tongue trailed across her collarbone, nudging the edge of his shirt off her shoulder.
“We spent many nights together with me learning your body when we never thought I’d get into that beautiful head. ”
“I know, but…”
“No buts tonight,” he told her as he kissed down her arm to where the material of his shirt pooled to the side.
One hand slid up to her breast, and her head tipped back as he palmed it. “Graves,” she gasped.
“That is the singular word you’re allowed to use tonight.”
“But…”
“You get my name,” he said, taking the nipple into his mouth. “Yes.” A swirl around the sensitive bud. “Harder.” He nipped at it. “And more.”
“More,” she groaned.
“Better.” His tongue ran along her breast. “I think both need equal attention, don’t you?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He grinned. “Good girl.”
Her body heated at the words. Never would she think that an ounce of praise would settle this deep into her bones and set her on fire.
He switched to the other breast, his tongue teasing the delicate skin as his hand slid back down her center to cup her pussy through the fragile material.
“Yes,” she gasped again.
Her skin felt like fireworks were bursting under the surface. Every touch, every press of his lips, every grind of his hips upward built up. A euphoric forever that only his body could unleash in her.
When he pinched at her breast, she gasped, shifting her hips against his growing erection. He grunted against her.
“Fuck, Wren,” he ground out as their bodies found that spot again and again.
There was still a scrap of clothing between them, and she felt like she could combust right then and there. She swiveled her hips, and they rocked together as his finger slipped across her clit. Her head tipped back, and those waves crashed over her.
She’d been so wound up since Edinburgh that the briefest of heated touches sent her over the edge. She dropped her head into the crook of his shoulder and panted.
“Wren?”
She lifted her hooded gaze to his eyes and found barely leashed thunderstorms. Then said one of the only words she was allowed to say. “More.”
His grin was feral and entirely pleased with himself. He lifted her effortlessly into the air as he stood from the chair and carried her into the awaiting bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him. She landed in a heap on the end of the bed, pulling Graves’s shirt all the way off.
His eyes roved her skin as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and let it drop to the floor. The sharp planes of his abdomen and the muscular cut of his chest, arms, and shoulders were on full display in the dim light.
With a slow, methodical unclasp of his belt before a pop of a button and hiss as his zipper dropped, her mouth salivated just at the excitement of what was to come.
His trousers fell off his narrow hips to form a puddle at his feet, leaving him in nothing but black boxer briefs that hugged his powerful thighs.
His cock jutted upward, and without even thinking, she reached for him.
He grasped her wrist before she made it to him. Her back hit the mattress with a huff as he pinned her hand above her head. He moved at lightning speed, much faster than he normally did except when he was fighting. It was a warlock speed, and to use it now meant business.
Her pupils dilated in alarm and desire, the two always mingled between them.
“Don’t move these,” he said, adding her other wrist on top of the first.
“Yes,” she all but panted.
He slid off of her, slow and luxurious, taking away the hard press of his body and the feel of his cock digging into her stomach. Then he hooked his thumbs under his boxer briefs, and they fell away, too.
Kierse wanted to move her hands. She wanted it desperately. It felt like the first time in so long that she was wholly her own person, free to give herself away to who she saw fit.
And the only person she wanted was directly in front of her.
His nose brushed along her ankle as he drew her leg up and over his shoulder. He slipped up her leg and along her inner thigh, leaving heated kisses in his wake. He found the hem of her thong and slid it under her ass. Then he drew them back off of her body the way he’d just come.
Still, she didn’t move.
“Who knew you could take such good orders?” he asked as he crawled onto the bed over her. “This is about the time in a mission where you begin to improvise.”
“Graves,” she warned, swiveling her hips invitingly.
He chuckled under his breath. “You’re supposed to scream my name as you come. Not use it in frustration.”
“Graves,” she repeated breathlessly.
“Mmm, I do like when you beg.” He leaned over her, pressing kisses up her stomach as his cock jutted toward her opening.
She threw her head back at every touch to her exposed skin, wanting nothing more than to align their bodies and have him take what they both so desperately wanted.
But he couldn’t read her right now. They couldn’t share this intimate moment, mind to mind, which meant that he had to earn every gasp and yelp and scream that came from her lips.
And fuck did he earn them as he pressed his cock flat against her pussy and rocked back and forth. She leaned into him, claiming his mouth for her own, wanting everything he gave her, the silence in her mind a wonderful, deafening nothing.
“I think we’ll move those hands now,” he said against her mouth.
She dropped them immediately to his hair, running her fingers through the silky strands for one whole second, before he flipped her onto her stomach.
“Graves,” she groaned.
But it was only half a complaint as he brought her to her hands and knees and aligned their bodies. The head of his cock pushed against her, and it took a full fight within herself to not take control and ease back on him.
“Go ahead,” he encouraged as if the bastard could read her mind. “Take me if you want.”
Oh, how she wanted. She’d thought she’d combust with wanting.
She pushed her hips backward, the head of his cock slipping inside of her. She dropped her head as a throaty, “Oh yes,” escaped her lips. And then she pushed back more, taking him in even increments until he grasped her hips and thrust the final inch with their bodies united.
“Graves,” she moaned.
His beautiful hands were on her ass. The long fingers that felt like they should grace the keys but instead flipped pages and read minds and blackmailed himself into control of a city. Those glorious hands were exploring her ass like he meant to stake a claim.
Her brain was scrambled enough that it was hard to form coherent sentences in her mind, let alone aloud. “More, Graves. More.”
And he obliged.
Oh, did her winter king oblige.
He slid out of her and back in one powerful thrust that jolted her entire body forward across the bed.
She dropped from her hands to her elbows to brace for the next movement.
And it came quick and brutal. As if he, too, had been holding himself back from her and he could now use his body to say all the things they couldn’t speak.
She took each vigorous thrust with a push back into him, twice as powerful, just as they were together. No matter what was happening elsewhere in their lives, they always came back together. She had to believe they always would.
She tried to come back to her hands, but Graves eased her down, never breaking stride. He squeezed her ass, manhandling her curves, before sliding his thumb through the slick wetness of their joining.
“So wet for me,” he praised.
Then his thumb moved to the crown of her ass, slicking it in tight circles. Her entire body shuddered at the feeling. An ache that had been building multiplied exponentially until she couldn’t even hold on anymore.
Her orgasm hit her full in the gut with the force of a freight train. A scream ripped through her at the unexpected punch. One second she’d hovered on the brink, and instead of building to that crescendo, she hit the peak with a feral intensity.
Graves pumped into her once, twice more as he came down from his climax.
Her limbs collapsed out from under her.
“Come here,” he said, lying on his back and urging her on top of him.
She was sure that her limbs wouldn’t listen to her, but at the sight of his cock jutting upward, hard and slick from her orgasm, she got moving.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “Can I request to add that to my list of words?”
“Fuck is allowed,” he agreed as she threw her leg over his hips. “Now fuck me, Wren.”
She kept her eyes trained on him as she slid back down on his cock. A shudder ran through her as she felt the edges of her last orgasm hitting her. She’d thought that he got deep in the last position, but it didn’t compare to this.
“Fuck, you’re so big.”
He grinned. “I accept that as well.”
His hands slid over her body, and the look he gave her was one of utter worship. As if she were the Greek statue, the goddess he adored, the priceless eternal artifact he’d dedicate his life to. She was his, and she wanted to remember the way he looked at her in that moment forever.
“Hands here,” he ordered, bringing them to his chest.
She traced his tattoo with her fingers. “My holly king.”
“My little wren,” he said as he gripped her hips and began to move.
“Oh my God,” she breathed.
“Graves, yes, harder, more, and fuck, Wren,” he reminded her with that sneaky grin as he thrust deeper.
“Fuck,” she gasped. He wasn’t holding her in place. He was working her hips back and forth to meet his powerful thrusts. “Harder.”
“Ah, my favorite one.”
Then he did exactly what she asked of him, burying himself inside of her over and over again.
The house was silent except for the slapping of their skin and the heavy pants as they met each other’s bodies.
Their eyes locked on one another, and for the first time in months, a sense of peace settled over her.
Maybe this could work. Maybe it could all work out.
Graves grunted and dragged her hard against him, grasping the back of her neck and crushing their lips together. She gave just as much as she took. And as he came hard inside of her, she unleashed again.
The tension left his shoulders as she collapsed forward onto his chest, resting her head on his tattoo. His fingers came to her hair, stroking gently through the tangled strands.
“My little thief,” he whispered, his mouth against the crown of her head, “you’ve stolen my heart.”
A warm smile came to her lips. “One of my more difficult heists.”
“Not your most difficult?”
She met his storm-cloud eyes. “You certainly didn’t make it easy.”
“Not in my nature.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“In matters of the heart, I have failed time and time again. If I can’t read it in a book or from my powers,” he said, splaying his fingers across her back, “it has eluded me.”
“Not this time.”
He pressed a kiss to her head, and finally her mind completely emptied of all thoughts.
There was no Lorcan lurking in the corners.
No bond keeping her awake. She had other worries—the stone, the Fae Killer, the Monster Treaty convocation—but they could wait for another day.
Right now, she just wanted to sleep in his arms.
She was certain she was completely asleep and Graves with her. She wasn’t sure she heard Graves say anything. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her, because it sounded like he said, “I hope you’re right, Wren. I hope you’re right.”