She no more than catches her breath before I pound that same spot again, still holding her gaze. I know I should ease away, back off until she recovers. But her soul is open to me; I see it in her eyes. And what I see inside her is even more beautiful than her face. I couldn’t dispute her kindness since she’s never treated me as anything but a warrior wizard. Her intelligence amazes me. The clever girl manipulates Council politics as easily as she deals with the centuries-old magic of the Doomsday Diary. Her sensuality… She keeps it tucked beneath her surface, but basking in it now, I nearly drown. She’s…everything, and I’m determined to give her the kind of ecstasy that makes her cry out in pleasure for me again.
Closer. Somehow I have to get closer, deeper, take even more of her. Now. I raise her legs over my hips, and they curl around my waist. That still isn’t enough. I put more force behind each stroke, sink deeper still. The bed shakes with every thrust. And still, it’s not enough. I press my face closer to hers, losing myself even more in the blue heaven of her stare. Still not enough—not even close. Will it ever be?
“I could do this to you all night,” I murmur. “I’m dying to.”
Her eyes flare again, and she doesn’t speak, but she moans, lower than the last time she neared orgasm. Longer. Joy races like fire through my veins as she tightens on me again. A little more, then…
“Ice!” Sabelle screams, her nails digging frantically into my shoulders. “Ice!”
The pain of those pinpricks on my back spurs me. I piston into her like a madman. My pleasure spirals nearly beyond my control, but I hold onto it for the sheer thrill of watching the frantic need on her face transform into the most beautiful bliss. And trust. She trusts me to care for her. Nothing is more beautiful.
As her second orgasm ends, gratification and need hit me at once, almost conflicting. Yes, I’ve hurtled her into pleasure more than once, and I can only pray that means I hold a deeper place in her heart than Lucan. But twice doesn’t satisfy me. Not even close.
Don’t push her anymore, I tell myself. Slow. Gentle. Pull back. She’s not ready for more.
I tell the voice in my head to fuck off.
Groaning, I roll over, lay on my back, then lift her off my erection, which aches for more of the soft suction of her body. Instead, I wrap my arms around her, biceps bulging beneath my tattoo, and drag her up my torso, settling her wet, swollen sex over my mouth.
Without hesitation, I begin to feast. My gut tightens. The taste of her very essence screams at me, my instincts flaring anew. My mate. Mine!
“Ice,” she pants so hard her chest heaves. “Wait. I-I can’t. Breathe. Oh, my…god!”
I close my eyes, trying to keep my self-control from unraveling. As I tremble and feel a haze of need shut down my brain, I realize that grasping for resistance is a waste of time…
“Need more. Now,” I growl, then devour her again, sucking the little swollen bud into my mouth and teasing it with my tongue.
She comes again, against my lips, with a shout that tapers off into a crackling, hoarse cry. And still I want more. Far more.
Maneuvering her down my body with one hand, I lift my cock with the other and raise up into the tight clench of her body. She closes around me in welcome.
“Yes. Ice. Oh, god… Yes!”
My favorite word from her.
Sabelle catches my mood and gyrates down on my aching shaft, her chest against my own. And her gaze locks with mine.
Time seems to stop for an endless moment before she cries out again in a raspy roar, her fingers digging into my arms. Her pussy grips me so tightly, she threatens to strangle my erection…but what a way to go.
The need to find my own pleasure is strong, but I grind my teeth and tamp it down. As long as Sabelle has any remaining desire, I want it. Just like I want her to want me for all time—the way I’ll want her.
Swallowing a curse, I lift her off me, kissing away her protest with a harsh press of my mouth over hers. I swallow her cry and urge her back to the bed. Without a bit of prompting on my part, she parts those sweet, golden thighs, and the invitation is nearly too strong. But I want—need—to have her in the most submissive way, to see if she responds with equal passion and trust when I have her beneath me and open.
Even as I call myself twenty kinds of fool, I roll her to her stomach and lower myself over her, spreading her legs again with my feet. Then I grip her hips.
“Ice? What?—”
“Feel me,” I demand, then press deep, relishing this position where she can feel everything and control nothing.
I latch my mouth on the back of her neck, and she cries out. Satisfaction broils deep inside me when she arches up, giving me a better angle to sink deep inside her. I take ruthless advantage of her sweetness.
During one unrelenting stroke after another, I reach beneath her and find her distended clit, swiping my cream-coated fingers across it.
“Ice. Ice!” She can barely find her breath now. “I can’t?—”
“You can. I need it. Give it to me.” I nip at her neck again. “Now, princess!”
On command, she clamps down on me again, her explosion of pleasure mere moments away. And still something drives me.
