“I’ll cut you a deal,” he spurs with a flash of his canines.
“Fuck your deals.”
“No, Raeve. Fuck yours,” he growls, pushing another finger in.
Stretching me.
“I spent over a hundred phases crushed beneath the weight of your death, wrecking myself, trying to shed the hurt from my heart. Do you know how much easier it would’ve been to simply remove you from my mind?”
I groan as he pumps me full, my body singing for his ministrations, wet sounds filling the room.
“But I didn’t, because I’m not a fucking coward.”
I snarl, arching up to snap my teeth at him, flopping back upon the pallet with a pleasure-filled groan as he pushes me full again.
“I don’t take you for a coward.”
“Stop t-talking. You’re ruining it.”
“No.”
Another thrust.
Another.
“You don’t get to treat me like a secret this time,” he grinds out, strumming my clit with his thumb.
My pleasure begins to peak, a mighty wave cresting—
“I’m not your secret. I’m your truth.”
He pulls his fingers free, dissolving the climax before it has the chance to curl over.
I cry out, my sound turning into a needy whimper as I tug my foot back to shove him in the chest for being a teasing asshole.
He snatches my knee, then the other, pinning my spread legs to the pallet, his eyes shadowed embers glinting in the flashing storm. “I know you’re a feral creature that likes to swipe at everything that moves into your atmosphere, but there are only so many hits I can take before I start swiping back. Once upon a time, I listened to you. Let you push me away. Then you died. So no,” he growls, “I don’t accept your deal. But I will offer you a new one that’s favorable to all parties—not just your own selfish whims.”
“I’m not selfi—” He dips his head between my thighs, flattens his tongue against my throbbing entrance, and licks a hot line all the way up me. “Ohhh, you’re good at that,” I moan, bucking.
He does it again, my fingers tangling with the hair at the back of his head as I rock my hips to his laving beat.
Okay, I am a bit selfish.
I press him closer, his tongue spearing into me. He lifts my hips, cranking my rapture to an entirely new level.
My center begins to clench—
He pulls back.
I cry out, though my frustration sputters as he thrums my clit with his thumb again. “Reach back and put your hands on the wall,” he commands, such calm authority in his voice that I immediately obey, certain my compliance is going to earn me the orgasm he keeps dangling just out of reach.
He tosses one of my legs up over his shoulder, grips the other, and spreads me wide. He fists his length, then thumps it against my swollen core.
Again.
Again.
I soften with each heavy thud to my tender clit, picturing him inside me. Filling me.
Moving in me.
Creators, this male …
“What’s the deal, asshole?”
“Yield and I’ll fuck you.” He flashes me a sharp smile that’s all canines and feral delight, devastating me with more teasing thumps. My hips buck up to meet each one. “Then I’ll tell you.”
“That’s a shitty ruuuu—Creators,” I grind out as he swirls the thick head of his cock around my entrance, dipping in the slightest amount.
Pulling out.
Swirling again.
Maybe it’s not such a shitty rule.
“You made the rules last aurora fall when you fucked me at that play table. You had me agree, knowing full well you planned to remove me with a wish up your sleeve to ensure you saw it done.”
I really don’t appreciate having a mirror shoved in my face while I’m edging toward an orgasm.
“I hate you,” I whimper, lifting my hips to meet the next heavy thump.
“No, you don’t, Moonbeam. You love me. You’re just too busy feasting on my heart to notice.”
I would flinch from the barbed accusation if I weren’t wound so fucking tight.
Another luscious swirl binds me into a mewling knot, his next word snarled. “Yield.”
“Fuck you, asshole. I fucking yield.”
One hand grasps my thigh, the other threading up around the side of my face and cupping my cheek as he meets my eyes, challenging me—no, begging me—to hold his blazing stare.
“Don’t blink, Moonbeam.” Please.
“I won’t,” I rasp, all my welling frustration toward him popping into a honeyed cloud of chest-crushing need. Of yearning to meet him on this bridge of connection that’s so frail and uncertain … but exquisite.