Chapter 52 #4
“Not yet,” he murmured. “I want to feel everything when you break for me.”
He curled his fingers just right, pressing into the secret spot that made her sob, his breath a warm caress against her slick skin.
After nights spent unravelling her in his arms, he knew her body intimately—knew every place that made her tremble, mewl, gasp, beg .
Her fingers tightened in his hair, her body tensing, straining, teetering on the edge of release.
He loved her like that for a long time, sucking, licking—devouring her as though he could imprint her taste onto his very being. She was lost, undone by the relentless pleasure, the way he held her open and took his time mapping her with his tongue, his fingers, his wicked mouth.
Then, he was inside her again, but this time it wasn’t gentle. He pushed not two, but three fingers, stretching her open as his mouth worked in tandem, sucking on her bud in a rhythm that had her keening.
Reiya sobbed his name, her nails biting into his scalp as he drove into her, fingers unrelenting, curling to knead that sensitive place along her front wall.
“You take three fingers so well,” he murmured, his voice wrecked with want. “You were made for this, weren’t you?”
She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the wet sounds between them: the warm rasp of his tongue against her swollen flesh, the low male sounds he made, the way his grip on her thigh tightened when she squirmed, when she whimpered his name.
Then, came his dark whisper, “Come for me, Sáel. Show me how easily you surrender.”
His tongue replaced his fingers then, snaking deep, flicking over the spot he’d spent so much time rubbing, and everything crashed over her in a tidal wave of pleasure.
She convulsed, hips jerking, crying out as he held her down. His mouth and tongue were ruthless, drawing out every last tremor of bliss until she collapsed, trembling, tears of pleasure streaming down her cheeks.
Slowly, Kaelen withdrew, golden eyes bright and molten with satisfaction. His lips glistened, curved into a wicked smile as he looked up at her.
“Still up for teasing me?” he asked, amusement threading through his voice.
Reiya tried to calm her heart, swallowing hard, her fingers still tangled in his hair. “You’ve made your point.”
He chuckled, his hands smoothing over her thighs in soothing strokes.
“You’re still shaking,” he murmured, his tone warm but unyielding. “You haven’t had enough yet.”
Her breath hitched. The weight of his presence, the quiet command in his voice—it wasn’t forceful. It simply was . A force of nature she didn’t want to resist.
She exhaled, letting herself sink into it. Into him .
Kaelen’s gaze darkened, as if he felt it too. “That’s it,” he praised. “Let me take care of you.”
Her heart clenched at those words, at the way he said them—not as a demand, but as an offering.
She let herself go, let herself be his once more.
T he study was dim now, the golden light of early evening fading into the soft glow of a single lantern on Kaelen’s desk. Forgotten tea sat on the tray, pushed aside as he bent over a parchment, quill scratching steadily against the paper.
Across from him, Reiya curled in the armchair, legs tucked beneath her, head resting against the backrest. She’d meant to keep him company, a quiet presence to remind him he wasn’t alone in his work.
But the steady scratch of his quill, the warmth of the study, and the lingering haze of pleasure conspired against her, lulling her into a half-dreaming state.
“Reiya?”
His voice broke through the haze. She blinked, struggling to rouse herself, but her limbs felt heavy, her body soft and pliant with fatigue.
“Hmm?” she murmured, head tipping to the side as her eyes fluttered closed again.
Kaelen’s steps were quiet before he crouched beside the armchair. “Falling asleep on me, love?”
She made a sound of protest, though it lacked conviction. “Just resting my eyes.”
He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Liar.” His voice was low and fond as he scooped her up effortlessly, her body curling instinctively against his chest.
She sighed, half-asleep but aware enough to feel the strength of his arms, the solid warmth of him beneath her cheek.
“You should be working,” she mumbled, barely coherent.
“Work can wait,” he replied softly, carrying her through the quiet corridors of the palace. Lanterns cast long, flickering shadows on the walls as he made his way to her chambers, his steps careful to keep from jarring her.
By the time he reached her room, she was more asleep than awake, her head tucked against his shoulder. He nudged the door open with his foot, warm air brushing against her skin as he crossed the threshold.
Gently, he laid her on the bed, her body sinking into the mattress. She stirred slightly, lashes fluttering but didn’t wake fully.
“Kaelen . . .” she murmured, voice slurred with exhaustion .
“I’m here,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her temple. “Let me get you ready for bed.”
He worked quickly but carefully, changing her out of her dress and into a soft linen nightgown. His touch was tender, reverent, as though he feared disturbing her rest. When she was settled beneath the blankets, he slipped in behind her, held her, and smoothed the covers over them both.
Much later, the faint creak of the door opening stirred her just enough to pull her from the edges of her dreams. She didn’t open her eyes, too drowsy to fully wake, but she knew without looking who’d entered. The quiet, measured steps, the familiar scent of leather and spice—Alarik.
The bed dipped slightly as he climbed in, careful to avoid waking her. He settled on her other side, warm and steady, his breathing grounding.
She stirred just enough to find his wrist, thumb grazing the braided bracelet matching hers and Kaelen’s. A faint smile touched her lips before her hand fell back onto the mattress.
Alarik’s thumb traced over her knuckles in silent acknowledgment. He murmured something—too soft to make out—but the warmth in his tone settled over her.
She felt cocooned, surrounded by the steady presence of her Alphas, the day’s tension unspooling at last.
As sleep reclaimed her, her last thought was of how perfectly they fit together—three threads woven into a single, unbreakable bond.