“Mine,” he rasped, his voice raw and urgent.
“Yours,” I gasped, pressing back against him, meeting his claim with my own.
He moved with increasing force and rhythm, his hips driving into me again and again. Each stroke was a wave crashing against the shore, and I welcomed them all, crying out as our bodies sang a symphony of desire. The slap of skin, the creak of the table, the heat blooming in my belly, all of it built higher, tighter, hotter. Mallack’s presence behind me was unwavering, a relentless force reclaiming what was his.
Reaching back, I found his wrist and brought his thumb to my lips. I sucked, hard and greedy, tasting his skin, feeling the rough pad against my tongue. I bit down, just enough to draw that faintly metallic taste, fire and earth and Mallack.
His body reared up behind me, a roar tore from his throat, “MINE!”
I shattered.
The orgasm ripped through me with such intensity that my knees nearly buckled. My hands never left the table, a lifeline keeping me from dissolving into starlight.
“Yours!” I cried, the word a broken sob as every muscle in my body clenched around him.
I felt him release inside me, a deep and claiming warmth that only served to prolong my own release, making me tremble and cry out again.
His chest collapsed over my back, pinning me there, his breath hot and panting by my ear. For a long moment, we simply existed, still joined, still gasping, still whole.
“You’re not cold, are you?” he asked softly, a note of panic in his voice.
“Ney,” I whispered, my body was too languid and sated to feel anything but the incredible bliss he had just given me. “Just… so relaxed. Too relaxed.”
His hand moved gently from my throat and brushed sweat-dampened hair from my face. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.
I shook my head, still catching my breath, then remembered the bite. “Did I hurt you?” I asked, glancing back at him.
He chuckled, low and pleased, holding up his thumb to reveal tiny pinpricks of aqua blood. “You marked me,” he said, pride flickering in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, though I wasn’t. Not truly.
“Don’t be,” he said, smoothing his hand down my side. “I’ll show it off to my warriors. It’s a badge of honor.”
I groaned, turning to glare at him, but his grin only widened. He lifted me gently, turning me so I was perched half-naked on the table’s edge. Something sweet and sticky squished under my thigh, one of the ceremonial honey cakes.
“Mallack,” I warned, but he just dipped his head to lick a trail along my collarbone.
“Hmm. These cakes are delicious,” he murmured, his thumb sweeping a smudge from my nipple before bringing it to my lips. “Try it.”
Despite my glare, I sucked his thumb into my mouth, holding it hostage. Sweetness coated my tongue, but it was his groan I savored most.
“Vixen,” he laughed, his eyes darkening, stars swirling in their depths. One of his hands slid back between my thighs; deliberately, his thumb circled my swollen clit.
I gasped, releasing his finger with a shudder.
He looked entirely too pleased with himself. “Still mine,” he whispered.
“Always,” I breathed, noting that my body was already aching for more.
His hand stilled, resting warm against my thigh as his gaze locked with mine. That playful glint in his eyes didn’t disappear, but something deeper moved behind it now, something reverent.
“I should take you again,” he murmured, brushing his nose against mine. “Right here. Right now.”
“You should,” I whispered.
But neither of us moved.
The air between us softened, slowed. What had started as urgency had become something else, something sacred. The ache didn’t fade, but it folded into warmth, into closeness, into the kind of silence that only existed between souls that had already said everything worth saying.
