She really is going to be the death of me. And I’ll die with a smile on my lips.
“Hearteater,” I say, my voice pained, because I’m not currently inside her. “You are a bane.” I feel the need to tell her how much she’s tortured me. How much I enjoyed last night. “It’s never ...” I pause. “For me, it’s never felt like that.”
“So, you won’t be entertaining other women lining up for the privilege of sleeping with you anymore?”
Her tone is casual, but her worry is real.
“No. You have ruined me.” In more ways than she could possibly know. “I have a thousand things to do, but all I want is to lock us inthis room ... All I want is to claim you so thoroughly, that there won’t be a part of you that doesn’t have a memory with me.”
Both of our desires converge again, enough to drown in. “Do it,” she orders.
I close my eyes. “A curse,” I say.
Then I obey.
BROKEN AND MENDED
She upends everything. Not just my feelings. Not just my heart. But also, my palace.
Her stuff is everywhere. Her clothes are on my floor. Her little crystal bottles are in my bathroom. Her scent is in my sheets.
And I love it.
I hate every time she leaves, which is all the time, since she has endless training sessions with her guardians.
Like right now. We just woke up. It’s barely past dawn. “They’ll be looking for me soon,” she says, trying to sit up. At night, I keep illusions in her room, in case they check on her, but they can only do so much.
I place my hand on her hip to hold her down. She looks up at me. Breathes out, right against my neck, sending chills down my spine. My arm is wrapped around her. She curls into me, pressing her body against mine, and amusement touches her lips when she feels me, ready. Always ready for her.
“Last night wasn’t enough?” she says, her voice breathy against my lips. She gently runs her fingers down my length, and a low sound of need escapes me.
“It will never be enough,” I say.
Every time we do this, I expect for this need to be satiated, like it’s a hunger. But it’s more like the universe. Infinite. Endless.
My hand trails down her hip, until my fingers find her own need. She’s been looking down at me, watching me play, but now her eyes snap back up to mine.
One look is all it takes.
Her nails are clawing into my chest, she’s sinking down onto me, I’m groaning my approval as she starts to move, shoulders hiking, head thrown back.
I grip her hip, my thumb stroking down her soft sensitive skin.
She’s as insatiable as I am.
She bites her bottom lip as she moves andthose lips. The things she has done to me with that mouth. The times I have kissed her, the times she has kissedme, until our skin is bruised, until both our lips are raw and aching. She likes it. She likes the marks on her neck from my lips. She asks for it, and so do I. Still, for now, we hide the proof of this, from both our realms. We’ve had to heal each other from the countless ways we have marked each other in this endless, limitless joining of pleasure.
Like right now, as she scratches down my chest, making long marks with her nails. I’ll have to heal those later, or maybe I won’t. I’ll wear them proudly, as a sign she used me for pleasure.
“Come here,” I say, pulling her down against me, and her chest is rubbing against mine. Her hands are on my shoulders.
She kisses me, and I wonder how I went five centuries without this feeling. Without this rightness. Without thistasteand pleasure.
My tongue is in her mouth, then my teeth are on her bottom lip, sucking, biting. A moan escapes her throat. “Please,” she says, and I know her. I know what she wants. Especially now, when we’ve spent so little time sleeping.
I wrap an arm around her waist, pinning her to me, before I unleash. She gasps against my lips, panting, as I give her what she wants, what she begs for late at night. What I dream of during the few hours of sleep I’ve gotten in the last few days.
She’s bucking her hips, meeting me stroke for stroke, burying her hands in my hair, nibbling at my neck, sucking against my throat.
