She lifted her head, dazed. “Mountains?”
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, dragging my length through her center. “What mountains?”
“The Mystique Mountains,” Ophelia said, her head tipping back as she arched her spine.
“And who do those mountains belong to?” I lined myself up with her entrance.
Ophelia cast a curious glance over her shoulder, her lips swollen and cheeks pink.
“You,” I commanded, and I slammed forward to the hilt.
Her wings flared out, catching the glittering gold light she burned with, and it only encouraged me to pull back and plunge into her again and again. Listening to how I made her feel, seeing the physical reaction of her rocking against me and gripping the sheets. I wanted those nails digging intomyskininstead. Leaving crescent moons among my scars.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pulled her up. Her wings were soft against my chest, and they were sensitive to her,but holy fucking Spirits, the velvet of them against my bare skin nearly undid me, too.
She wrapped a hand around my neck as if she heard my thoughts, digging her nails into the Bond tattoo inked there. A ribbon of light snaked out from where her hand met my neck, wrapping around my throat and trailing down my body. Her body. Exploring every damn inch of the two of us together, teasing around where I sank into her. Seeing her take that control after what had happened to her, combined with how she felt, drove me wild.
“Those are your mountains, Ophelia,” I growled, trying to remember what I was saying as I moved inside of her, hitting so fucking deep from this angle. Her eyes were trained perfectly on the distance, hungry and desiring. “That’s my girl,” I murmured, kissing her neck. “One day, I’m going to fuck you atop those mountains so you can scream my name to them becauseyouown them just as you do me. The power within them, the beauty. It’s all yours. No god can take it.”
I gripped her hip and ran my other hand down the place where her wings met her skin. Her entire body clenched and uncoiled with the touch.
“Fuck,apeagna,” I ground out. “Is that where they’re most sensitive?”
“I-I think so,” she panted.
“Interesting,” I said, and I pressed her forward again so I had better access to her wings, climbing onto the bed to kneel behind her.
I pushed into her, timing every thrust with a brush of my fingers over the joint of her wings or a kiss across the place they met her back. She was a mess beneath me, telling me what felt best but barely able to form the words, just little moans and breaths and my name amid gold light streaked with colors I couldn’t even decipher.
I pressed my hand into her spine between her shoulder blades, palm flat, and leaned over her. “Ophelia,” I whispered in her ear.
She hummed in acknowledgment.
“When I touch your wings next, I want you to come.”
“Please,” she begged, and while I wanted to string this out, to continue to have her beg, I couldn’t wait.
I reached one hand around her hips to rub tight circles between her thighs, and with my other hand I matched the pace against her wings. And Ophelia imploded, her light hitting every sensitive spot on my body, too. With a groan, I went right with her until I had nothing left to give.
And fuck if everything on Ambrisk didn’t feel right again for that one dragged out moment of us falling apart together. Our shattered pieces forged into one in the heat of her Angellight, and if being broken meant I got to be sealed to her, I’d break myself for eternity.
After we caught our breath, I flipped Ophelia onto her back again and kissed her senseless.
“The things you do to me,” I muttered, dropping my head against her neck. “I think I like this new seraph magic. And the wings.”
She laughed, dragging her nails up my arm, but froze. “Tolek,” she said, “what’s this?”
When I lifted my head, her eyes were on the ink curling over my shoulder, gold shimmering in the Angellight.
“That’s my new tattoo,” I told her simply.
“A new tattoo?”
She pushed me off her so we could sit up, and I turned around. Ophelia’s breath caught. We were both silent, her eyes burning into my back, peeling apart every inch of the golden wings unfurling there.
“You got this…for me?” she asked, doubt turning her voice to a whisper.
“Of course.” My heart pounded in the silence. She traced the ink, her nails dancing lightly over the details and raising goose bumps along my skin.
