40
Paesha
He kissed me like he was trying to prove something. Like he was afraid I’d forget. But how could I with hands like those, eyes like his. That dimple that hid beneath the shadow of a perfectly trimmed beard. He was everything. He pushed when I needed it. Gave me space when I asked. He’d carefully become the perfect man, chipping away the walls he’d named only moments ago. Abandoned hearts were hard to love because they knew what it meant to be loved and left, and still carried the weight of both. But he held me like he wasn’t afraid of the wreckage, like he’d take every shattered piece if it meant having me.
And I was his. Fully. Undoubtedly. And though I could feel myself breaking for him, I accepted that it didn’t make me weak. Choosing him, bending for him made me strong.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against my neck, but his fingers gripped me harder, betraying how much it would cost him to pull away. I wanted those fucking hands all over me. Needed them.
I arched into him, letting my power brush against his like a caress. “Since when do I do anything you tell me to?”
Thorne’s laugh was rough, desperate, and the sound of it sent a wave of desire straight through me. “Impossible woman.”
“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”
“I want you in every fucking way.”
This man worshiped me like he knew what it meant to lose me. He’d already suffered the agony of it once and clearly refused to endure it again. His hands tightened at my waist, pulling me closer, and I let him. Let myself sink into the warmth of him, the steadiness, the unrelenting way he held me like I was something precious.
His teeth grazed my jaw. Gods. I closed my eyes, standing in the middle of the fucking field, in broad daylight contemplating my next move. Quill was in the house. I didn’t give a shit about anyone else, but I couldn’t let this go on. Not here. Not even as his fingers skimmed higher, tracing maddening patterns on my sensitive inner thigh. As his lips blazed a trail of fire down my neck, I shivered, desire coiling hot and tight in my core. The sheer audacity of his touch, out here in the open with the sun beating down and the breeze whispering through the tall grass, made my head spin.
I wanted to sink into him, to let the rest of the world fade away until nothing existed but his hands on my body and his heart beating in time with mine. But the rational part of my brain, the part not completely consumed by lust, reminded me we were playing a dangerous game.
Thorne’s fingers slipped under the edge of my dress and I jolted as if struck by lightning. Gripping his wrist, I pulled his hand away, bringing it up to my lips to press a lingering kiss against his palm. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with desire, met mine, a silent question burning.
“As much as I’d love to let you ravish me right here, it’s not going to happen.” I arched a brow, nodding toward the house in the distance.
A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “Shy?”
I traced a finger down the buttons at his collar, snapping it free. His pulse jumped beneath my touch. “Not at all. But I thought you preferred a bed for this sort of thing. Silk sheets, down pillows, a convenient headboard to tie me to…”
He groaned, the sound vibrating through me. “Wicked, teasing minx.” His hands flexed on my hips as if fighting the urge to haul me back against him. “Too bad there’s no bed around here.”
“You’re a gazillion years old. Are you telling me you’ve never found a more creative spot than a bed? That’s wildly disappointing.”
“Creative? Darling, I’ve christened every surface from marble altars to piano tops. The question isn’t where, it’s how many times before we break it.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he leaned closer, lips brushing my ear. “I could take you against a wall so thoroughly the wallpaper would remember the shape of your body for the next century. Is that creative enough for your liking, or shall I demonstrate further?”
Heat bloomed across my skin, my breath catching in my throat as his dangerous promise sent liquid fire racing through my veins. I steadied myself against him, using his momentary distraction to take a step backward toward the carriage he’d rode in this morning. Tipping my head toward the road, I let a coy smile play on my lips. “That’s a pretty bold claim from someone who’s still just standing here talking. I believe your carriage awaits, my lord.”
There was no time for a breath as he helped me inside, shutting the door, and slamming the curtains closed. He sat, legs spread apart and stared up at me with a mischievous smile. “There’s not enough room for all the things I want to do to you.”
“I’ve always found intelligent people lacked creativity. Thank you for proving me right.” I put one foot on the benchbeside him, my dress riding up. “Shall I give you instructions beforehand, or do you think you can work out the details?”
His response was immediate. He turned, his eyes dark and hungry, and before I could even breathe, he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of my inner thigh. The bite was sharp, deliberate, and it sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. I gasped, my fingers curling into his thick hair as his mouth branded me with a mark that would linger long after this moment had passed.
“I think I can work it out,” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot. “But I’ll let you know if I run into any trouble.”
He didn’t wait for my reply. His hands were already on me, sliding up my thighs with a possessiveness that only he could have with me. He hooked his thumb over my panties and tugged them to the side, exposing me to the cool air of the carriage. His gaze locked with mine, unblinking, as he leaned in. The first touch of his tongue was electric, a slow, deliberate stroke. My back arched. I bit down on my lip to stifle a moan, but it was useless. He was relentless, licking me with a rhythm that was both maddening and intoxicating. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open as he devoured me like a man starved.
I tugged him closer, needing more. My magic surged, sliding down his back, tracing the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt. He growled against me, the vibrations sending shivers through my entire body. His power answered mine, a wave of heat that burned through me, igniting every nerve until I thought I might burst into flames.
He didn’t stop. His tongue moved faster, flicking over that sweet, sensitive spot until I was trembling, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. I could feel the pressure building inside me, a coil tightening with every stroke of his tongue. My hips bucked against his mouth, desperate for release, but he held me still, his grip unyielding.
“Fuck,” I whispered, voice breaking as I felt myself teetering on the edge. He didn’t slow down, didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. Instead, he pressed harder, his tongue working me with a precision that was almost cruel in its intensity. Almost. Until his fingers dug harder into my thighs, until he paused to graze his teeth over me. Until he bit down and the pain coalesced with every bit of ecstasy he’d been delivering. A wave of pleasure hit me that was so intense it stole the air from my lungs. I came with a cry, my body shaking as he continued, drawing out every last drop of ecstasy until I was nearly boneless, trembling as I hung on to him, my limbs heavy and my mind blissfully blank.
He pulled back finally, looking up at me, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll work on the creativity.”
I couldn’t answer. My body was still humming, every nerve alight with the aftershocks of what he’d done. All I could do was stare at him, my heart racing and my thoughts a jumbled mess.
