Page 81 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

“Then tonight,” I declare, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands, “we can just be two lovers enjoying each other’s company. We’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes.”

Graeme nods solemnly, then pulls me flush against his sculpted chest, his strong arms encircling my waist as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. I melt into his embrace, my own arms stretching up around his broad shoulders, my fingers digging into the unyielding planes of his back, where his shoulder blades and wings meet.

He frees his wings and I caress the base of them, lightly scratching with my nails through his thin t-shirt. Graeme hissesand scoops me up, carrying me straight to the big king bed in my bedroom.

The city skyline stretches out beyond the wall of windows in my bedroom, a dazzling canvas of light and chrome, but I barely register the view. My entire world has narrowed down to this—to Graeme.

Every touch is electric, every caress searing, imbued with a desperate intensity, a fevered urgency.

Graeme pushes my shirt up to my neck, nipping a line up my stomach and over to my left breast, before latching onto my nipple, worshiping it with tongue and teeth.

I moan and squirm, grabbing ineffectively at his shirt.

“Take this off,” I order breathlessly. “Take everything off, now.” I wiggle my own shirt up and over my head, unlatch my bra and toss it to the floor.

He sits up, kneeling on the bed over me, and gives me an amused look before shucking out of his clothes with swift efficiency, dragging my jeans off my hips while he’s at it. And then his head is between my thighs and his tongue is lapping at my clit through my cotton panties and I think I might die from how good it feels.

“Inside me, now,” I groan, grabbing his arms and heaving him toward me, as if I could possibly make him move anywhere he didn’t want to go. His erection is already huge and hard, and with one swift thrust he’s inside me, claiming me.

His tail winds around him to caress my neck and I turn my head to take the tip into my mouth, sucking gently and then harder, loving the growl that comes from his throat.

We cling to each other like drowning souls. I lose myself in the grasp of his hands mapping my curves, the scrape of his teeth against my throat, the delicious stretch and burn as he fills me again and again.

Graeme’s thrusts are almost punishing in their force, his hips surging against mine with ferocity. An inferno rages in the depths of his eyes, dark and all-consuming, threatening to reduce me to ashes.

There’s no room for gentleness in this moment, no place for soft sighs or sweet nothings. This is raw need in its purest form, a physical manifestation of the ache in both our souls.

I meet him stroke for stroke, my body bowing into his touch, my thighs clenching around his waist as if I could somehow fuse us together, make us one in every sense of the word. One of my hands winds around his tail, stroking in time with his thrusts, bringing the tip to my mouth again for a long lick.

Pleasure builds at the base of my spine, hot and sharp, coiling tighter and tighter with each rough snap of Graeme’s hips against mine.

My release hits me like a hurricane, sudden and explosive, tearing a ragged scream from my throat. I shatter in his arms, my entire being reduced to nerve endings and sensation. Graeme follows me over the edge just a heartbeat later, his own hoarse shout mingling with mine.

In the aftermath, we collapse into a boneless heap, sweat cooling on our skin as we struggle to catch our breath.

I burrow into the solid planes of Graeme’s chest, listening to the furious pounding of his heart, trying to inscribe the cadence into my very bones.

Graeme’s voice breaks the silence, his words a soft murmur against my skin.

“I’m in love with you, Ecco,” he says, his voice thick. “I know it might seem fast, but these past few weeks with you… they’ve changed everything for me.”

My heart swells with a joy that’s almost painful in its intensity, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spilling down my cheeks.

“I’m in love with you too,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “And watching you leave tomorrow will be impossible.”

Graeme shakes his head, his granite features set with conviction.

“No,” he says firmly. “I promised I would never hurt you, and I meant that. We’ll figure this out, Ecco. Long-distance relationships can work. I’ll come back to the city as often as I can to see you, and you can visit me at the stronghold whenever your schedule allows.”

He’s clinging to hope, desperate to find a way to make our love last despite the miles that will soon stretch between us.

And I want so badly to believe him, to trust that our bond is strong enough to weather any storm.

But as I lay my head on Graeme’s chest, his heart beating steadily against my cheek, a small, faithless voice whispers in the back of my mind.

I’m not sure how we can keep time and distance from eroding what we have.

And Graeme, for all his intention, has never been in a real relationship before. He doesn’t yet understand the work and sacrifice required to nurture a lasting love, especially from afar.

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