Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“Breathtaking. Open wider for me, darling,” he murmurs, his hand squeezing between my thighs, pushing them to spread wider.
His hand moves up, and I moan into the blankets as he cups me fully and runs his hand backwards, fingers deftly dancing along the wet lips, small pants escaping from me as his fingers dip and part me a little.
“Slowly, my love. You’re so wet already, and I’ve hardly touched you.”
His long hair tickles my inner thighs as his head slips between them, twisting to lie on his back below me. His tongue joins his hand, which is now gently teasing my clit.
The heat starts rising to flames as his tongue, slick and probing, runs the length of me, back and forth, tasting, savouring in languid strokes.
My eyelids flutter. His tongue parts my lips, delving deeper, and pleasure rolls through me in waves. My nipples harden, rubbing painfully against the blankets below me.
When his tongue hardens and plunges deep into me, my fingers grip the blankets as if I’m going to fall. My back arches, pushing my lower back closer to him, and I grind myself down onto that most welcome intrusion, moaning and writhing with pure bliss.
“Control, Alaya. Gods-damn, I don’t think I’ve tasted anything so luscious. Another new sinful addiction,” he murmurs, his words making my lips tingle.
His mouth covers me as he probes his tongue as far as he can, his hands pulling my hips down onto him. He dips in and out, the rhythm fanning the flame at my core. The pressure builds, coiling tighter, a searing ball of pleasure glowing white-hot.
“Shit,” he hisses, quickly sliding from beneath me, and his hand presses into my lower back, pressuring me to once again lie flat. As he straddles me again, his hand cups between my legs and holds there, that ball of heat ready to explode suspended, tempered by his touch.
“Patience, sweetheart. Your release belongs to me. You will get nothing more than the aching and the unravelling until your body can’t remember a kingdom where my touch isn’t the only thing that matters.” He breathes out raggedly beside my ear.
I wriggle below him, trying to move his hand, but his grip is firm. I can feel his now fully erect cock, so hard and long, slipping lengthways between the cheeks of my rear. A whimper escapes my throat.
“But that doesn’t mean I can’t take what is mine.” I feel a sharp sting to my cheek as he slaps my rear.
He rides my cheeks, rhythmically rocking back and forth; the powerful thrusts of his slick cock, the head grazing my clenched hole tantalisingly, bring a whole slew of new sensations of yearning.
As he grunts and trembles, I moan with him, still held tightly from my own release, and a hot, thick liquid splashes on my back, then more as he continues to thrust and groan.
His chest, sweaty and hot with his exertions, presses into my back once more as he leans down, his breaths quick and panting.
“You make it so hard for me to deny you. If I told you how good that felt, you would come like a banshee,” he drawls, leaning down and crushing his lips to mine. His tongue quickly laps into me—tasting of me—then he stands up.
The bastard has left me laying here panting for my own release while he took his own!
I watch him move across the tent, muscles shifting beneath sweat-slicked skin as he retrieves the discarded shirt. He returns, the fabric cool and soft as he smooths it across my back, then over his own chest, wiping away the evidence of his release. The shirt falls to the floor.
I turn onto my side as he lies down beside me, and he pulls me against him, his arms wrapping around my waist, legs tangling with mine.
His heartbeat thuds against my spine. Our breathing slows, syncing into the same rhythm as warmth pools between us.
His fingers trace lazy patterns on my hip, growing slower, heavier, until they still. Sleep pulls us under together.
Reth
My hands tremble as I shove through the tent flap, Ceira’s wrist locked in my grip. I yank her forwards and release her with enough force that she stumbles into the table, sending the nearby chair clattering onto its back.
“That bitch is going to be the death of me,” I hiss, watching Ceira compose herself and hopping onto the table.
She crooks a finger towards me, her eyes enticing.
I walk over, press my palms against the wooden table either side of her and lean down to lay my head on her shoulder.
She strokes her fingers through my hair, and the tension in my jaw loosens, my breathing slows.
She knows these strange little needs of mine, knows exactly how to soothe the beast with her touch and attention.
It’s why she’s my Beta Mare—well that and she’s a fabulous fuck.
“I still don’t know why you don’t just kill her,” Ceira states as I moan into her shoulder, her fingers massaging my scalp.
I pull back and stare into her face, those green eyes glinting with hate.
My last mare ended up with Ceira’s fist in her face until her head was a messy pulp—a deathly message delivered in blood.
Since then, even a glance at another female has Ceira’s guard up, but Alaya has ignited something worse in her, something that burns with pure spite.
“You know why we need her,” I reply.
While she is here, King Malaxor won’t attack. It’s giving us breathing space to gather our warriors, to make plans to ensure Heartwood is protected. The more we negotiate, the longer we have. Only then will she die.
As Earthbound, she is everything I despise, her very existence here like a disease on Heartwood, dirty and invading.
Since those idiots brought her here, my sleep has been fractured by restless pacing through the camp at odd hours.
I’ve worn a path in the dirt outside my tent, unable to settle, pacing as I repeat the same truth—her death is an eventual necessity.
It has to be. Heartwood’s safety depends on it.
I tell myself this again. And again.
Until the words begin to ring hollow, and I realise I’m no longer certain I believe them.
“First dibs on the killing blow.” Ceira laughs and leans forwards, brushing her lips to mine, her hand snaking back up into my hair. I slap it away and pull back from her.
“That was a shit move, taking her like that. Domanikk was furious.”
“He’s only pissed because I dared to play with his favourite toy. Pussy.”
“Careful, Ceira, he’s my Lieutenant and my friend,” I say, my voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone.
There’s a spark of protectiveness rising in my chest towards something I can’t quite name or admit—not to her, and certainly not to myself.
My jaw tightens as I watch her expression, searching for any sign that she understands the line she’s approaching.
Whatever complicated feelings I have about him, they’re mine to sort through, and I won’t let anyone else tear him down in front of me.
She reaches back and unbuckles her leathers. They slither to the floor, those magnificent tits popping free.
“Not today.” I shake my head and stand up. I walk over and light the fire.
“Oh, come on, you’re too tense. I can help you relax.”
I hear her walk over, her footsteps soft against the floor, and then her hands snake up my chest from behind, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate paths along my skin.
I can feel the warmth of her breasts pressing against my back, her breath hot and steady near my ear as she leans in closer, her body melding against mine.
“I said no, Ceira,” I say more firmly, shrugging out of her grip.
My chest tightens, breath catching in my throat as the memory floods back with visceral intensity.
Those violet eyes flashing at me with such defiance today, such open and raw wrath, stirred that disturbing disgust with myself I have kept repressed since I first laid eyes on her.
An unwanted need that I cannot and will not admit.
Not to anyone. Not even to myself in the darkest hours of the night when sleep eludes me and her face haunts my thoughts.
The way she stood there, chin raised, shoulders squared, refusing to back down.
Something dangerous. Something that makes my skin crawl with self-loathing even as my dick twitches in response.
I should despise her. I do despise her. But there’s something else there too, lurking beneath the hatred, coiling around my ribs like a beast.
It’s grown like a living, breathing entity, taunting me, poking me, biting my insides until I writhe in pain.
Unbidden thoughts of what it would feel like to run my hand over that creamy skin, then wanting to scorch the skin off that hand until all traces of her Earthbound dirt is gone.
Wondering how she would taste on my tongue if I took that defiant mouth with my own, then wanting to cut my own tongue out to rid myself of her disgusting Earthbound sweetness.
Her pert breasts, that tight arse, that forbidden shadow between her legs.
“Come on, Reth. That bitch defying you made you lose your edge?” Ceira croons, walking backwards towards the table, hands on the buttons of her trousers, undoing them as she goes. “I have something that might help.”
I move fast and grab her by the throat, slamming her back into the table, looming over her.
“What did you fucking say?”
“There he is!” She grins, licking those plump pink lips seductively.
“You want this? You want my fury?” I spit in her face, and she simply smirks.
“I’m surprised you had to ask.”
A roar erupts from me, my frustrations exploding behind my eyes, the room suddenly full of dark and shadows.
I grab her hip with one hand and roughly flip her over, holding her head to the table by the neck with the other. I grab the waist of her trousers and yank them down in one fluid movement, watching her back arch and her arse strain towards me as she moans.
“My edge is going to fuck you until you bleed,” I growl at her, pulling my own trousers down to pool at my feet. I slap those beautiful cheeks until they are red, my dick growing harder by the second, the evidence of my violence fuelling my desire.
“Ruin me,” she pants.
And I slam into her, hard and deep, so hard she slides up the table and I have to pull her back to me. I snake my arm around her hips and clasp her to me, burying myself as far into her as it will go, her moans turning to yelps.
The pace is brutal and mindless, my dick thrusting with abandon, the friction rough and painful. But I lose myself buried in her, chasing that release with each pound of my length ramming into her, each slithering tremble as it slides out.
I’m so lost in the feel of her insides clamping around me, squeezing me that black hair turns purple, sun-kissed skin turns creamy, and when I release her neck in shock, she turns to stare back at me, those violet eyes defiant.
My release erupts like a raging volcano, shuddering so violently with power that it makes my legs tremble and I scream to the Goddess herself.