12. Lilias
Lilias
READY
He finally kisses me.
It’s hard and deep, the kind of kiss he gave me in front of the crowds, thrusting and dancing, making me burn and ache with a wild, desperate longing. Proving our unity.
But now there’s no audience, nothing to prove. Yes, I asked for this, almost begged for it. And he didn’t walk away. For once, he’s kissing me with no one watching.
I’m almost afraid when he pulls back, panting against my lips, a wild gleam in his eyes. My fingers sink into his hair, as if I can hold him here if he decides to leave. But he doesn’t step away. Instead, his hands grip my waist, and he pushes me back until my legs hit the blanket-wrapped hay bale.
“On the bed,” he growls.
Gods, I’ve never been so happy to obey. I stumble onto the blankets and tug off my thin silk shorts.
Zarek stares at me like a feral beast, like a wolf watching a rabbit.
His chest rises and falls, his shoulders still damp with rain, his skin gleaming in the low light.
I stare at the many scars crossing his skin and the thin trail of dark curls leading to the tight black pants he’s unlacing.
And the first threads of apprehension twist in my chest. He’s so much bigger than Blayne, and it hurt with Blayne, every time. Yes, it felt good too, pleasure mixed with the pain, but there was always a moment when I had to grit my teeth against the burn when our bodies joined.
Zarek shoves his pants to the floor. The hard length of him pushes against the thin fabric of his silk shorts. He crawls onto the bed, bending over me. I clench my jaw and spread my legs.
“I’m ready,” I whisper.
He laughs, low and in the back of his throat. “Oh, are you?” he whispers, his breath hot against my neck.
He kisses me. Softly, on my lips, and then on my neck, my collarbone. I gasp as his fingers slide over the curve of my breast and dance across my nipples, my hips twisting against the blanket, my body burning with that strange fire, desperate for his touch.
“Zarek,” I whisper. It comes out as a moan, hot and needy. “I— I’m—”
He grins at me, his fingers circling my nipple as the lamplight dances across his wet hair.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, but that flicker of fear laces through the heat in my body. It’s going to hurt, but it doesn’t matter. I can take it.
“Yes,” I whisper, although my breath catches in my throat.
He grins. My hips twist on the blanket, turning toward him, but he doesn’t move to enter me.
Instead, he bends down, kissing my chest. When his lips close over my nipple, I moan something that’s in no human language.
His hand slides down my stomach and traces a path along the inside of my thigh.
I think of Detec, of the way he made me tremble and burn while we were there, the way he touched me—
“Gods,” I moan. “Please—”
My eyes close as my head tips back on the blankets. I don’t even know what I’m begging for as my hips rock against the heat of his chest, my whole body taut and trembling, pleading and desperate for something only he can give me.
He laughs again, deep and thick, his breath hot against my skin. His lips trace a path down the curve of my stomach. When he kisses the inside of my thigh, I open my mouth to ask what he’s doing.
And then his head drops between my legs.
I cry out, shock and pleasure chasing each other through my body, escaping from my mouth.
His tongue dances over the place he touched on the bed in Detec, and I burn.
I’m trembling, shaking as my hips rock against the hay beneath me, my hands clenched around the blankets, clinging to the thick fabric like I might dissolve without it.
I’m making noises, moaning and pleading, but I don’t think those are words coming out of my mouth.
My body pulls tighter and tighter, shaking and writhing as Zarek devours me, and now I’m crying for something, but gods, I don’t know what it is.
I just need more. More of this, more of him, more of everything. Gods, I don’t ever want him to stop. My hips tilt, rising to meet him, driving into him, and I want this to last forever, I want this, him, only him, forever—
I scream as my body falls apart, wave after wave crashing through me, leaving me wrecked and gasping.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Zarek growls.
My vision swims as the world tilts around me. I blink, trying to make sense of the dim flickers. The rafters above me. Our wet clothes draped over the railing, dripping rainwater onto the floor below.
Zarek. Gods above, Zarek. His wet hair against his throat, the bandage over his ribs, his lips curled into a hungry grin. He’s on his knees between my legs, watching me like he never wants to look at anything else.
And he’s pulling down his thin black shorts.
I gasp the first time I see it, the part of him I felt pressed against my body night after night when we kissed for the crowds, pulsing against my thigh in the carriage, straining against his pants on our wedding night. The gleaming head, the wicked curve.
Gods, it’s big. I swallow, but my throat feels dry. I spread my legs, ready for him. Or as ready as I’ll ever be.
But Zarek leans over me and kisses my neck. His breath is soft against my skin, and once again, that low ache grows between my legs.
“Princess,” he whispers. “I’m going to fuck you. Tell me how you like it.”
I open my mouth, then moan as his lips close around my earlobe.
“I— I don’t know,” I stammer.
He makes a sound, something like a purr and a laugh mixed together, and then his fingers trace a path up the inside of my thigh. I moan as they trace my sex.
“Then tell me what feels good,” he whispers.
I feel him, the heat and the pressure of his cock against the lips of my sex. I gasp, bracing myself. But he doesn’t enter.
“P-Please,” I moan. “Please, gods.”
His hips rock, and he enters me slowly. I gasp, waiting for the burn, the pain, my entire body trembling as he fills me. Above me, Zarek closes his eyes. Sweat beads on his forehead; rainwater drips down his neck.
“Oh, gods,” he whispers.
Like a plea for mercy. Or a prayer.
“More,” I beg.
He gives it to me. He fills me completely, sinking into me, his hips against mine, our bodies joined. I wrap my legs around his waist, needing something more, although I’m not sure what.
“I-Is this—” he asks, in a gasp.
“Good,” I pant. “Gods. It doesn’t—doesn’t hurt.”
“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes flash. “It’s not supposed to hurt, Princess.”
I almost laugh, but then he moves inside me, pulling back, and I gasp instead. He fills me again, slowly, our bodies rocking together. His hand comes to the head of my sex, his fingers dancing around the place that made me explode.
And I forget how to speak.
I didn’t know it could feel like this. Zarek pants and gasps above me, his eyes closed again, a look of intense concentration on his face.
My hips rise to meet him, slowly at first, like we’re both following the steps of a dance.
It’s almost too much, the feeling of him inside me, his hand on my sex, my body aching, burning, reaching for him.
And it’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough.
I sink my hand into his hair and cling to him, my legs around his waist, my hips driving into him, demanding more. Demanding all he has to give. The ache rises inside me again, the need, and I would beg him if I could only form the words.
His thumb drives into the head of my sex as he enters me, faster and faster, our sweet, slow tempo falling apart, turning to desperate thrusts. My rhythm falters; I’m trembling, shaking beneath him, gasping as I cling to him, desperately reaching for more—
And it crashes over me, long and deliriously slow. The world dissolves in bliss as I fall apart, cresting again and again.
Zarek’s breath is ragged above me. His hips slam into mine, over and over, frantic and desperate, and then he pulls back, sliding out of me with a string of half-audible curses.
He kneels above me, panting, while the world spins around us.
I’m dimly aware of the rain hammering the roof, the rasp of my own breathing, the soft press of the blanket beneath my naked body.
“Fuck,” Zarek mutters as he staggers to his feet. “Fuck, that was—”
His words trail off as he gasps for breath.
And if I could remember how to form words, I’d agree with him.