It was the permission he’d been waiting for. Without delay, he finished the task he’d started. Once my undergarments were gone, he admired me for a long moment, his focus searing with its intensity. I fought the urge to close my legs or cover myself.
As if he’d plucked that fear from my head, he glanced at me sharply. “Don’t ever hide yourself from me. Unless you want me to stop, or I’m not pleasuring you the way you like. You are beautiful. And I want nothing more than to do this,” he dragged a finger down the center of my body and I almost saw stars. “With my tongue.”
He gazed deep into my eyes, making sure I saw the truth in his, then he brought his mouth to me. The first stroke of his tongue was a shock of pleasure, electrifying my whole system. I arched up from the bed, body tingling with anticipation of the next touch.
Wrath hooked his arms around my legs and lowered his mouth once more. This time he held me in place, angling my hips up to allow for the most pleasure. Blood rushed through my head. Oh, goddess, every touch was sweet torture. Just when I thought it couldn’t feel any better, he plunged a finger inside me, his mouth moving harder against me.
I writhed beneath him, hands searching for something to grasp, desperate to ground myself in the swirling storm of pleasure lifting me up and away. I gripped the sheets as his openmouthed kisses continued in that intimate place, his fingers pumping in time with each beat of my heart. I was coming undone, chasing that line of fire streaking through me.
My fingers dove into his soft hair, my breath coming in shallow bursts, my pulse pounding through every glorious inch of my body. I was so close.
Wrath’s strokes turned demanding, the demon of war commanding my body to obey his wish and shatter against his mouth. Because he willed it. Desired it.
I rolled my hips forward and he growled in approval, the sound and vibration of it nearly unleashing me. Before I could call out his name, he moved up my body, pressing his own arousal against me, his mouth crashing into mine. He rocked his hips, the force gloriously rough as our bodies slammed together. He withdrew and moved against me again. And again.
I dug my nails into his shoulders and greedily met his movements with my own.
Each thrust pushed me closer to that edge. The hard length of him sliding against me created friction that heightened my pleasure. His cursed trousers were still on, still preventing us from fully connecting, but it did not stop me from finally shattering beneath his massive body.
With a groan so powerful it damn near shook the bed, Wrath followed me over the edge.
THIRTY-TWO
I laid within the circle of Wrath’s arms, my back snug against his chest, as we both caught our breath. He traced the outline of my tattoo with his fingertips, his idle touch stirring a new set of emotions. There was something more intimate about the gentle action than any sexual act or physical expression of love. I wasn’t sure Wrath was fully aware he was doing it. Which complicated things more.
I nestled against him, trying to push my worries aside and enjoy the moment.
He pressed his lips to my temple. “Please refrain from wiggling like that. At least for a few minutes.”
“Is it painful?”
He smiled against my skin. “Quite the contrary.”
Intrigued, and not very good at following commands, I did it again. Wrath’s body hardened against me. Goddess above. His thirst for seduction was unquenchable.
I rolled over to face him. “Take off your pants.”
He arched a brow. I swept an arm to indicate my naked body.
“I refuse to be the only one completely nude.”
“If I remove my trousers, I cannot guarantee there will be much sleeping.”
I mimicked his arched brow and waited. I’d never said anything about sleeping. Bold of him to assume he’d figured out my plans. With a sigh, his pants vanished. He tucked me against him and I grinned as I shimmied closer and heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Emilia.”
“Yes?” My tone was innocence sprinkled with sugar. “Is there a problem?”
I should have known better than to taunt the general of war. Wrath did not play fairly; he played to win. From behind, he situated himself right at the entrance of my body, causing my breath to hitch. I went tight and loose at once, ready for him to press himself deeper.
“Tell me, fiancée. Are you certain you want me as your husband?” He gripped my hip in one hand and slid the other under me, pulling me closer. The tenuous hold on my self-control was slipping. I arched into him. “You’re ready and willing to spend eternity here, with me?”