Page 212 of Mother of Death and Dawn

Caduan wanted.

His fingers tightened at my hips with enough force to leave marks on my bare flesh. His teeth marked my lip, my throat, my shoulder. The hardness of his length between us grew unbearable.

I wanted to feel his skin against me. My hands went to the buttons on his shirt, ready to tear them apart if I needed to, but his hand caught mine and wrenched it to the wall, pinning me there.

A wordless sound of protest escaped my lips, muffled by his kiss.

But so easily, it was forgotten. Because his other hand slipped between us instead, circling one too-gentle touch at my core—not enough, not enough—before working at the buttons of his trousers.

Seconds later, the rough press of clothing against me was replaced by the hard, smooth silk of skin.

I tore away from his kiss for just a split second, casting a brief glance down—at my parted thighs and him nestled against the place between them.

I felt drunk, the world fuzzy. The desire was overwhelming. I tilted my hips, my movement limited by our position, but it was enough to make both of us release ragged moans.

Caduan grabbed my face, hard, and turned it to him. Both of us were covered in blood. I distantly became aware that we must have looked ridiculous—smeared with human blood, me naked, him half undressed, both of us utterly undone.

“If you want me to stop, then tell me now,” he said. “I need you now. Right now, before I think better of it.”

I kissed him and opened my thighs wider, angling myself so his tip prodded at my entrance.

“Yes,” I murmured.

It was all that he needed. He kissed me, his tongue plunging into my mouth, just as his hands grabbed my backside, lifted me, spread me, and then he impaled me.

The world dissolved. First, there was pain—this body was new, and his size stretched it in ways that were unfamiliar and painful and, yet, the greatest pleasure I had ever known, like he was searing himself into every inner crevice of me.

Everything disappeared. It took several long seconds before I returned to my body, as he groaned into my hair, “Aefe, you feel… you…”

His muscles trembled. Was he holding himself back?

“Are you alright?” he asked.

I kissed him, my teeth nipping at the wound I had opened there, making him flinch. My legs closed around his waist, and his fingernails dug harder into my backside.

“More,” I moaned.

He let out a long, shaky breath.

Tension snapped.

He obeyed.

His hips shifted in one abrupt thrust, spearing the rest of his length into me. Pain and pleasure claimed me in an overwhelming burst, but I didn’t have time to catch my breath, didn’t have time to do anything but cling to him. His thrusts were fast, rough, wild, like he wanted to claim every angle of me.

But I still wanted more. I wanted to fall apart until I didn’t know my own name anymore.

My fingernails dug into the hard muscle of his back, earning a hiss and brush of teeth against my ear, as I whispered against his skin a demand:More.

This time, there was no hesitation. Caduan’s movements were smooth and calculated. He withdrew from me, and barely gave me time to mourn the loss of him before he spun me around and bent over me, pressing his hand over mine against the wall. When he pushed back into me from behind, I no longer had the presence of mind to clamp down the strangled cry that escaped my throat.

Whatever final dregs of self-control I had were now gone.

I no longer cared who I was, or the fact that I didn’t know. I no longer felt alone in this body—how could I when he was reshaping it so thoroughly around him? How could any body feel empty and dead when it was being filled this way, touched this way, loved this way?

“Caduan.” I hadn’t meant to say his name, but my lips needed to form something, and the only thing I could think—would ever think again—was him.

Pressure was building, building, within me—like what I had experienced the night of the festival, but so much more. With every stroke, he filled me deeper, his movements growing more vicious.

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