Chapter 42
NO MORE SECRETS
VEXAR
AMARA IS THE only person in the galaxy who will ever see me kneel before them. Her skin flushes as I work my hands down her legs, mesmerized by the soft feel of her body and the way she grips my shoulders like I am the only stable thing in the world.
Somehow, she was not gravely injured today, and I have never felt more grateful for anything.
When I saw the blood on her hands, the terror was too much.
I feared that after everything I had done, after everything we had survived, it still might not be enough.
But she is safe. She is here. We are together.
And there are no secrets left between us.
I gaze up at her face, and all I can think is how much I already love this woman. She has seen my darkest shadows, seen the monster that lurks within, yet she does not recoil. If anything, she draws closer. The more I reveal to her, the more she leans in.
The scent of veladoo wood grows strong as she takes the soap from me, but the scent of soap cannot overpower the scent of her desire. It grows stronger by the minute, overwhelming my senses and urging me towards the apex of her thighs. When I fear I can no longer resist, she steps behind me.
The thread between us snaps tight as the tension grows.
It is all-consuming. Her fingers comb out my braid, massage my scalp, and run the length of my horns as jolts of lightning snake over my skin.
My cock jerks. Fingers dig into the muscles of my thighs.
My shadow no longer fights for control, but it is ever-present.
Hungry. Ravenous. Not for violence, but for pleasure. Her pleasure.
Amara’s knees make a quiet sound as they meet the tile behind me. Her soft thighs part and slide around my hips, as the heady scent of her arousal rises.
Suds drip down my abdomen and her hands follow, sliding lower until they reach the top of my groin. My vision broadens and my skin attunes to every touch, every shift of air, every drip of water. My breath hitches. The throb between her legs echoes down my spine.
Suddenly, I am standing, towering over her kneeling form. I suck in a ragged breath. Her skin is slick and shining. Her wet hair, the color of night. And her eyes burn with an unmistakable hunger.
I struggle to stay present as her hands roam my legs. The bar of soap makes a quiet thunk as it hits the floor. Her teeth catch her bottom lip. In one swift motion, I lift her to my chest and walk us towards the bedroom, leaving a trail of water in our wake.
Her legs wrap around me as her lips dance over my neck. Her teeth nip my ear. She falls to the bed. Bright skin against dark fabric. Veladoo colored lips. Pink cheeks.
“I need you,” she moans breathlessly.
“I know,” I whisper, kissing down her chest before taking one of her peaked nipples in my mouth. Her pleasure rolls through me, strong and intoxicating.
Gods, I forgot how good her pleasure feels.
Her fingers run through my wet hair as I lick and kiss my way down her abdomen, the taste of her skin exploding over my tongue. I move her legs over my shoulders, eager to taste her, but she pulls her knees to her chest, stopping me.
“You're hurt,” she says, propping herself up on her elbows and crossing her ankles.
“I do not care,” I growl as I move her legs back. She tries to pull away again, but I hold the tops of her knees and nip the inside of her thigh. “This is where your legs belong. Now, lie back.”
She narrows her eyes. “Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
Her brow arches as a devious smirk curls her mouth.
A second later, she rips her legs from my grasp and starts to roll away with a laugh.
My jaw tightens with suppressed pride. I love her fearless rebellion and endless desire to provoke me.
No one has ever acted like this with me, and it is electrifying.
“Are you sure you do not want to obey?” I ask, my voice dark and rough—the voice of my shadow. It is strange hearing it speak, strange the way it shifts my thoughts and actions, but I can no longer fight it. It has woven itself too deeply, and I cannot tell where I end and it begins.
Her eyes burn with a silent dare as she pushes herself to all fours, ready to crawl further away.
My hand darts out, grabbing her ankle and pulling her back.
She lets out a playful squeak, and a second later her legs are back where they belong.
I band one of my arms around her hips, and place my other hand on her chest, holding her in place.
Her moaning whimper of defeat sends a throb through my cock.
“Good human,” I say, feeling pleased. Her chest moves rapidly with her breath, and when her eyes meet mine, I run my tongue up her slick sex.
“Umph … fuuuuck,” she moans.
Her hips roll, searching for more, and I smile against her, enjoying the way her face contorts and her breath hitches.
“I … fuck … I’m going to come already,” she grunts.
I hum a sound of confirmation, and the moment she nears that peak, I stop.
She tries to sit up, but runs into the weight of my hand. “What the …?”
“You should have listened,” I purr, my cock straining.
She lifts an eyebrow and says in a defiant tone, “Oh?”
Somehow, that simple reaction nearly sends me over the edge.
I grunt and clench my muscles, willing myself not to spill my seed on the deck.
When I am back in control, I lower my mouth between her legs and in less than a minute, I have her gasping and nearing climax again.
Just as she’s about to fall over the edge, I stop and wait for her pleasure to wane.
She groans. “Really? This is what we’re doing?”
I do not answer, and when she is just far enough away from that peak, I resume. I do this again, and again, letting her frustration build alongside her appetite. Colorful curses and strings of expletives fill the air. Her skin glistens with sweat as she thrashes against my grip.
“You are such a fucking asshole,” she pants. “How long are you going to torture me for?”
Instead of answering, I continue my task, sliding a finger into her warmth and holding her hips as she begs for release. When I feel her clenching, I pull back.
Her eyes flash to mine and a whimper falls from her lips. “Ok, ok. I give up. I can’t… I need…”
A part of me regrets the ache in her voice, but the way her body is reacting to my efforts makes it clear that this is a good thing. I am large, and she is not, but she is opening for me.
“You can,” I say encouragingly.
“God damnit,” she growls, her voice full of determination and anger. She is stronger than anyone I have ever met. A stone amongst feathers. A raging fire amongst dry brush. And I love her for it.