Page 24 of A Court of Ravens
I hold her down, pinning her with my weight, dragging the hilt against her sweet spot until she’s shaking, every muscle locking up. I can feel it—she’s there, right there, begging for release.
Then I stop.
Her eyes snap open, but I don’t move, holding the hilt right fucking there, letting her body hover on the razor’s edge of pleasure. Her breathing is ragged, her thighs trembling, her nails biting into my scalp like she might try to force me to move.
I chuckle darkly, licking her inner thigh, my beard rasping over her overheated skin. “You’ll take what I give you, love.”
She whimpers, struggling, fighting the pleasure. Another heartbeat. Another. Then I move. I twist the hilt, dragging it over that spot, my tongue flicking her clit as I finally let her break apart. She shatters, body bowing, screaming my name as pleasure wracks her.
I pull the hilt from inside her slowly. Gods. So devastating. I lap at her, drinking down every shudder, every convulsion of her body as she falls into madness, pleasure, me.
I move up her body, capturing her lips, letting her taste herself on my tongue. She groans, pulling me deeper, licking into my mouth like she’s trying to devour me.
I grab her jaw, tilting her head back, watching her flushed, wrecked expression. “Taste yourself on me,” I command, my voice nothing but gravel and lust.
I slide two fingers into her mouth, pressing against her tongue, and she sucks them in, moaning, tasting herself. My cock throbs painfully at the sight, at the fuckingobsceneway she does it, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“Gods-fucking-damned,” I rasp, pulling my fingers from her mouth and replacing them with my lips.
She’s still shaking, still on the edge.
But I’m not stopping.
I drag my cock through her wetness, letting her feel how fucking ready I am, how much I need this.
A dark grin curves my lips. “You asked for this.” I press a bruising kiss to her throat, sliding my hands down to pin her hips beneath me. “You’re going to take every inch like a good girl.”
And then I bury myself inside hers.
ChapterTen
FELICITY FORREST
“The strength to conquer worlds lies in the whisper of our bond.”
King Cú Chulainn Darkraven, Crimson Court, to Talora
The world narrows to the stretch, the overwhelming fullness as Niall sinks into me, inch by devastating inch. My gasp is swallowed by his mouth, his lips claiming mine in a kiss that’s as much a brand as it is a warning.
I claw at his back, my nails digging into his shoulders, needing something to anchor me. He’s too much—too big, too deep, too fucking perfect. My body clenches around him, and he groans, the sound rough, almost guttural.
“Fuck,” he grits out, his forehead pressed to mine. His lip ring brushes my bottom lip, a teasing contrast to the raw stretch of him inside me. “You feel like fucking heaven.”
My thighs tighten around his hips, locking him in place. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
A low, feral laugh rumbles through him, his beard scraping against my jaw as he drags his lips along my skin. “So fucking impatient.”
His mouth crashes against mine, all heat and hunger and filthy fucking intent. The taste of him seeps into my veins, a drug I can’t come down from. His beard scrapes my skin, rough and possessive, his lip ring cool against my burning mouth.
I whimper into him, needy, desperate for more, for everything. He’s a predator, dangerous, wild, and yet, somehow, I’ve never felt safer. If I died like this—with his body caging mine—I’d do it with his name as my last breath and his hands as my last touch. I tighten my grip on him, holding him like I could make this last forever.
When I think I can’t survive another second without air, he pulls back, his forehead pressed against mine. His breath is ragged. “If I’m to break, let it be by your hands.”
Gasping for air, I push myself up. “You’re not the only one who’s afraid of breaking, you know.”
He’s on me in an instant, pinning me to the mattress with a pressure that feels as sinful as it does safe. My fingers thread into his hair, pulling him closer. He smells earthy. Animalistic. Male. It’s unmistakably him. A scent with no place outside this moment, outside Niall.
His hands grip my hips, fingers digging deep enough to leave bruises as he pulls back, just enough to make me whimper at the loss before he slams back in, seating himself to the hilt. I cry out, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he sets a punishing rhythm, each thrust sending shocks of pleasure through my body.
