Page 28 of The Beautiful Blade

Jorge lay behind me, his body curled around mine, his hands tucked around my hips, holding me securely to him.

The first rays of the two suns spilled through the cracks in the curtains. His warmth surrounded me, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that lulled my racing thoughts. Everything felt right—perfect.

Bruises lined my body. My muscles ached in ways I hadn’t thought possible. All of that faded to a dull whisper compared to the feel of him. His strength was an unfamiliar weight against me. His arm, once fragile and broken, now held me like it could carry the world. I ran my fingers over the hard muscle of his biceps. His forearm ended in pliable metal.

His hand had been taken from him. He had beentaken from me. But we were back together and somehow put together. Even with the bruising and the swelling, I felt perfectly healed.

I tilted my head up to look back at him. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed. Goddess, how I had missed his face. There were so many details that I'd forgotten about him.

The way his lashes were absurdly long, casting delicate shadows on his cheeks. The faint scar along his left temple, a pale line against his tanned skin, a reminder of one of the many times he’d thrown himself into danger for my sake. The way his lips, always slightly chapped from being out in the sun, curved in the faintest of smiles even when he was at rest.

I had missed him. Missed this. The boy in the stables was now a man. And I'd missed it. I wanted to find the Beast Prince and gut the monster for taking this all from me.

Jorge's eyes opened, those familiar dark pools meeting mine. I smiled up at him. He smiled back. Then I attacked.

I lunged for him, aiming to catch him off guard. My hands darted for his shoulders, my knees pressed to the mattress as I tried to wrestle my way on top of him.

Jorge moved faster than I expected. With barely any effort, he caught my wrists and twisted, flipping me onto my back, leaving me breathless. He loomed overme, pinning my arms above my head with ease. His grip was firm, unyielding. I felt the raw strength he now carried.

And I liked it.

"What are you doing, starlight?" he asked.

"I was trying to have my way with you."

A slow smile spread across his handsome face. With his free hand, the one with the prosthetic, he reached for a lock of my hair. I arched my chin into his hand like a feline. The feel of his mech hand was soft, cooler than the rest of him. But if I closed my eyes, I'd know it was him. Also because he smelled faintly of me.

This wasn’t the Jorge I remembered. This wasn’t the boy who used to falter when I teased him, who used to blush when I smiled too brightly. This was a man, battle-hardened and confident. The realization sent a wave of heat rolling through me.

“Since when are you so strong?”

“Since the world stopped letting me be weak. So don’t test me, Charlotte.”

"I don't want to test you. I want to fuck you."

He rubbed his thumb across my bottom lip. "This mouth?—"

"Wants your cock." I snared his thumb with my tongue.

With a deliberate slowness, I released his thumb. His grip on my hands slackened. I reached for his face. Iplaced kisses where my fingers traced. Jorge let me kiss him. He was so focused on my lips meeting his flesh that he lost track of my hand, making its way beneath the sheets.

He still wore trousers. I snared his zipper with the tips of my fingers. Jorge's body tensed, a statue carved from surprise and then anticipation. My hands deftly slid beneath the fabric. The heat of him seared my palm as I wrapped my fingers around his cock, already hard and pulsing with need.

A soft groan escaped his lips as I began to stroke him. Each movement of my hand was hungry, learning the shape and feel of him all over again. His hips bucked.

"Charlotte..." His voice was a rough whisper, telling me to behave.

I had no such plans. I deepened the kiss until he was pliant on top of me. Then, in a move I'd learned watching the Convergence Games, I flipped our positions. He crashed into the mattress on his back, and I mounted him. This time, I ducked his attempts to snare me by getting low on his body.

I was at his hips when he grabbed for me. All he got in his mechanical hand was my hair. I also got what I grabbed for: his cock.

With one last, firm stroke of my hand, I leaned forward. The taste of him was intoxicating, a blend ofsalt and skin that had my heart hammering against my ribs. My mouth enveloped him, warm and wet, and I took him in deeper.

I felt it the moment he gave up. His fingers threaded through my hair, holding on but not guiding. A silent admission of surrender. Each bob of my head, each swirl of my tongue, unraveled him further until the lines of control blurred into nothingness. I worshipped him with fervor, determined to claim every gasp and shudder as my own.

He tried to pull me away before he reached his climax. I held firm. I took him as deep as I could go and suckled.

Jorge let out a strangled cry as he spilled into my mouth.

---