Page 75 of Ivy & Bone

Prue let her legs fall open, her skirts parting for him. A hungry look stirred in his gaze, but he slowly shook his head.

“I want to devour you first,” he said in a low voice, hovering over her. “Every inch of you.”

Her core throbbed at the promise in his words, and she couldn’t speak. All she could do was nod, encouraging him onward. With achingly slow movements, he undid her dress. One. Button. At. A. Time.

Prue growled at his slow pace, and he smirked. He was toying with her again.

But she could play this game, too. Smiling sweetly at him, she pinched his cock through his trousers.

Cyrus let out a strangled sound somewhere between a bark and a groan. “Gods, Prue.”

She batted her eyes at him, the picture of innocence.

He laughed, but the fire in his eyes told her he wasn’t finished with her. And she was glad for it.

When her dress was fully unbuttoned, she shrugged out of it, discarding it on the floor. Without preamble, she tugged at his tunic, practically ripping it from him. He slid it over his head, tossing it next to her dress before hovering over her once more, his arms braced on either side of her. Prue let her fingers wander over his ink, tracing each flame, each curl of darkness etched into his skin.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

“What story do they tell this time?” Cyrus asked.

“A story of possession,” Prue said. “And power to be claimed.”

“That won’t be the only thing I’ll claim tonight,” he murmured, leaning closer to kiss her again. She met his lips with fervent energy, drawing him down so his chest lay against hers. Her tongue caressed his until she wasn’t sure where her mouth ended and his began.

In this moment, they were one. Their minds. Their bodies.

Their souls.

Prue tugged at his trousers, lowering them to free the hard arousal contained inside. With her legs, she kicked his trousers off the bed and examined him more fully.

Goddess, that length of his . . . Just the thought of it inside her made her throat go dry.

He often reminded her of it, but in this moment, as she appreciated every aspect of his body, it was abundantly clear: Cyrus was a god. His body seemed perfectly sculpted, the tattoos stark against his pale skin, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. His horns, his hair, his eyes . . . all inhuman and otherworldly, and yet . . .

He was hers. Flawed imperfection, raw and brutal emotion. But hers nonetheless.

“I love you, Cyrus,” she whispered.

Shock flickered in his eyes, and his mouth opened slightly. For a moment, he stared at her, dumbfounded.

Shit, Prue thought. Did I just ruin this?

But after a moment, his expression softened, and he leaned close. “My soul is yours, Prue. All of it.” His mouth was on her again, tracing the length of her throat, his tongue flicking against her skin.

Then, he had her hands pinned above her head, pressing her wrists into the mattress. She arched into him, needing him against her. With his free hand, he lifted her shift, sliding it up and up and up. His movements were slow and careful, and when he exposed the slickness between her legs, he halted. Desire blazed in his eyes, more potent than any fire, and Prue practically melted from that look.

He released her wrists and bent over, bringing his mouth to her core. The sweep of his tongue against her sex sent fire shooting through her veins. He repeated the movement, and Prue thought she might melt right then and there. She bucked and thrashed, writhing from the deft movements of his lips and tongue. He licked her, ravishing her fully, feasting on her. His tongue explored every crevice, poking and probing, gliding through her. Stars burst in her vision, the tension in her core mounting until she wanted to scream, to claw at him, whether to urge him onward or to stop him, she didn’t know. He spread her legs wider, providing better access, and his teeth grazed the most sensitive part of her.

It undid her completely. She threw her head back with a cry of delight, her body on fire, every inch of her pulsing with awareness and need. As she sank backward onto the bed, her body trembling, Cyrus continued lifting her shift, a satisfied smile on his face.

“I’m not finished with you yet, Prue,” he teased.

“You’d better not be.” Her voice was raspy.

He lifted the shift over her head and let it fall to the floor with the rest of their clothes. Then, just as she had, he admired every inch of her body. She resisted the urge to cover herself, not out of self-consciousness, but self-preservation. She never opened herself up to anyone. She hadn’t even exposed her body to Xandros when he’d been alive.

Her instinct was to hide. To shy away. To keep her thoughts and emotions to herself.

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