Chapter 8 #6
“Never fucking again?” I echo, deliberately widening my eyes and pouting at him playfully. “But I want you buried deeply in me, Rath. I want you so deep that you’re lodged under my skin, embedded into my bones.”
Anger wars with desire on his face as one hand drops to my ass and the other cups the back of my neck. I pretend to fight against his hold, managing to shimmy down just enough that I almost get his hard cock right where I want it. Except for the presence of my clothing, of course.
“Zaya,” he growls. “Maybe I need some words.”
I tug his head down to mine. Not that I could move him if he wasn’t willing. I whisper across his lips. “Maybe, while you interrogate me, you could give me just the tip?”
“Fuck,” he snarls. Then he throws me — perfectly gently — over his shoulder, pinning both my legs against his chest. Leaving my upper body and head dangling, he strides up the beach toward the nearest house.
Or at least that’s where I’m guessing he’s going. Because I really can’t see much but his glorious ass flexing with each stride.
I moan, writhing against his hold wantonly. I’m not playing now. All the essence called forth through the chase and riled up even further with our almost-feral kissing crackles between us. My nipples are hard against my wet clothing. Desire aches almost painfully through my —
Rath slaps my ass. “Stop that, Zaya. I’m not fucking you on the fucking beach.”
I spank him right back, harder than he hit me.
He groans, his step actually faltering. “Fuck,” he snarls. “I nearly fucking came, don’t do that again.”
I giggle. Maybe it’s all the blood rushing to my head, but I feel light and gleeful. Safe. And I know I’m about to be completely and utterly taken care of. If only for a few stolen moments.
I don’t spank his ass again. I want all that come inside me. I might actually need his come. That’s not a rational thought. I don’t have a breeding kink, because I can’t have a breeding kink, because I’m the —
“Stay with me,” Rath says, climbing up a short set of wooden stairs. As if he can feel my mind wandering toward everything that has been brought sharply forward by finding and finally dissolving the bond that was supposed to tie me to Reck, to the cu-sith.
Wet hair hanging all around my face, I smooth my hand down Rath’s leg, focusing on the tattoos etched into his skin, including the phases of the moon ringing his calf. As I do, he crosses a narrow, weather-worn patio and wrenches open a sliding glass door — shattering the lock as he does.
“It’s a pack house,” Rath says, snagging a wool blanket off the back of a couch. He wraps it around my shoulders even as he turns and lowers me onto a kitchen table.
Looming over me, he slides his hands down my arms, ghosting his thumbs across the sides of my breasts and pulling a shudder out of me.
His hot mouth covers mine again, tongue coaxing me to tangle with his as he shoves my wet dress up my thighs, then tugs off my underwear.
I cling to his shoulders, already panting and trying to pull his body back to me, back fully against me.
“Zaya?” he asks, shifting his lips and tongue to my neck as he checks again that I’m with him.
“Please, please,” I whimper, arching my neck to give him access. I’m completely overwhelmed yet somehow not full enough. Not yet.
I plaster my lips over his, running my hands over every part of him that I can reach. He captures the back of my neck but doesn’t try to tame the wildness of my kiss.
Sliding the fingers of his free hand up my inner thigh — causing more shudders to rack through me — he presses the tips of those fingers against my soaking-wet pussy, swirling over my entrance, then coating my clit in more of my own lubricant.
I tremble under his touch — under the press of all the essence radiating from him — but I still need more. More skin, more contact. I reach for the zipper of my dress, trying to get it off me while still kissing him.
Rath slides one finger inside me, pressing the pad of his thumb to my clit. He pumps once, crooking his finger up on the way out. Then he repeats that, but with two fingers.
Trembling, I nearly fucking come. I’m right there, teetering on the almost-painful edge, but it’s still not enough.
I’m half aware that it’s fear and frustration suddenly fueling this desire to anchor a bond separately from what’s been stolen from us.
I have the dragon, but I want the man too.
I want the bond, and some part of the future held within it, that was tucked away in my aunt’s armoire like a fucking trophy that she —
Fingers stilling, but thankfully not withdrawing from my core, Rath deliberately snags my gaze with his.
I don’t make him check in with me a third time, whispering, “We can be slow next time.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. Essence shifts through his words, as if even only for this moment, he can command that future into being. “And neither are you.”
“But …” I almost sob. “Please … I …” I try to palm his cock, but he’s tall enough that even bent over me, I can’t quite reach.
Desire deepening his voice even further, he says, “I need you to come first.”
“Together,” I pant, almost pleading.
Shaking his head with a growl — still obviously trying to control himself — he tugs my half-open dress off my arm, then roughly yanks it down to expose my breasts. He shifts his hand down from my neck, pressing up between my shoulder blades to get me to arch my back.
I do so eagerly. And I’m rewarded by that hot mouth closing over my breast, tongue rasping against my nipple.
Wrapping my legs around him tightly, I dig my heels into his ass. Then I slowly lower myself fully onto the table. Rath follows, his mouth on my other breast now, and his fingers resume teasing my clit.
Still too slow, way, way too slow.
I lift, shimmy, and twist — and apparently the universe is on my side today, as I manage to get the tip of his jutting cock notched at my entrance.
Desire shudders through him, forcing him to brace the hand not working my clit on the table beside my head.
Using the underside of that arm as an anchor, I slide farther onto his cock until my ass is hanging off the table.
He growls.
I moan, arching up into him in an attempt to align our bodies, panting into his chest. “I need you. There’s this empty space in me. I need —”
Rath shifts his arm fully under my back and thrusts into me, stretching me, filling me, and igniting all my sensitive nerves. I garble relieved but nonsensical words into his skin.
He thrusts a second time, getting me better situated on the table as he does. Still so careful not to hurt me, even as pleasure aches between us.
Rath presses his face against my temple. “You don’t beg me, Tempest. You never have to beg. I thought you were playing.”
“I was, but …” I lose my words as he drags the length of himself almost completely out of me and then slowly pushes all the way back in.
He presses his thumb to my clit again, shifting his other hand to my breast, tweaking and rolling my nipple. I collapse onto the table, unable to hold myself up as he steadily and very thoroughly fucks me exactly how I want. Caging me in, surrounding me, shutting out the rest of the world.
I sink into the pleasure sharpening, then radiating through my lower belly, wrapping my hands around each of his wrists to anchor myself, to hold onto him at three points.
“Zaya,” he rasps, gaze bright with his dragon.
Both my mates are here with me, though the dragon seems content to just watch. “Rath.”
“Call me Jordan, Tempest. When you come, just this one time, call me Jordan. That’s how it should have been between us for our first time.”
I wrap my hand around his neck, gazing deeply into his eyes. “Jordan. Just this once, then we’ll move forward through the now together.”
“Yes, yes.” Rath’s next two strokes fall off rhythm. Tension threads through the arms gently caging me.
I relax further into the pleasure he’s stoked from me, involuntarily arching up off the table as that pleasure cracks wide open and I crash over the edge.
Rath captures my nipple in his mouth. My hand slides up his arm and neck to hold his head to me.
Fully sheathed within me, he grinds against my pubic bone as I orgasm.
Essence — from me, from the shard of the intersection point dangling around my neck — explodes through the room, through the house, spilling out across the beach.
“Jordan!” I cry, clenching around his cock. All the energy I released floods back, twisting and churning around me. “Jordan …”
As if directed by my verbal claiming of him, all that essence threads back and forth between us, following and fortifying the soul bond between me and the dragon — and forging a new tie between Rath and me.
“Now you’re mine again,” I whisper, the words pulled forth as if uttered by the universe — the universe realigning what was always meant to be? “Jordan, my past. Rath, my present and future.”
Rath grunts under the onslaught of the energy transferring between us, thrusting into me hard one more time. Then only his hips jerk as he holds himself over me. “Zaya, mine forever.”
Before the essence unleashed from our claiming of each other even settles between us, Rath gathers me up in his arms — wet clothing, blanket and all, his cock still lodged within me — and carries me through the dark house.
The sun has fully set.
I’m only half awake as Rath gently washes me, all of me, including massaging an apple-scented conditioner into my hair and making certain my clit is sparkling clean by licking me into a shuddering, gentle orgasm.
“I love you,” he murmurs into my neck as he carries me to bed, then climbs in beside me.
“I know we’re still learning who each of us is again, but even with our soul bond severed and hidden in that fucking armoire, I love you.
Beyond the fucking universe, through all dimensions, in every incarnation. ”
“You’re mine,” I murmur back, snuggling into his chest and unable to articulate more than the most basic of declarations. “I’m never letting you go.”
He hums. “Promise, Tempest?”
“I’d hunt you through eternity.”
“Not necessary. I’ll be right beside you.”
I fall into a deep and healing slumber.