Page 129 of Shadows of Stardust

“Yes, I did.” He switches to the other, a rasp of fangs against my over-sensitive skin. “And you were the one who suggested we let the winner claim their spoils, weren’t you?”

While he speaks, he skates his hand up the inside of my thigh, higher, seeking thespoilshe won.

I laugh, breathless. “Yeah, but the prize is supposed to be for you.”

“Who says this isn’t?”

Damn, well, I can’t really argue with that, can I?

My thighs part for him, pussy wet and aching and shameless as I grab for his horns again, pushing him lower. He growls his approval as he slides my underwear down, as he settles himself at my core and finds my clit, throbbing for him.

And then he unleashes himself.

There’s no slow build tonight, no leisurely exploration, nothing but the insistent suck of his lips around my clit, the deep press of his fingers inside me as he hits a spot so sweet it makes me see stars. He’s focused, determined, merciless, building me to a peak and then throwing me off it as a fast, consuming orgasm wracks my body.

Even then, he doesn’t relent. He’s still there with lips and tongue and seeking fingers, coaxing out more pleasure, demanding my surrender. When I let out a strangled, desperate moan, he looks up at me and I’m pinned in place by those familiar galaxies.

“Another,” he rumbles into me, pressing a damp kiss against my pussy. “I want one more from you, Roslyn.”

Who am I to resist that kind of command?

Back arching, hands clenched around his horns, I grind into him. I chase the pleasure until I shatter again on a long, keening cry, the universe around me coming apart at the seams.

While I’m coming down from that peak, he climbs back up the bed and settles beside me. Zan runs soothing strokes over my hair, my cheek, until my racing heart slows and I can finally peel my heavy eyelids open and look at him.

There’s a light shining in Zan’s eyes that I’ve never seen before.

Desperate silver, swirling with need and hunger and a sharp broken edge that makes my breath catch in the back of my throat.

“I want you on top,” he says roughly, rolling so he’s on his back on the mattress and lifting me by the hips, settling me over him. “Take everything you need from me, Roslyn.”

Take.

The word sounds wrong.

I want to give.

I want to give to Zan just as much as he’s given to me.

I want to repay him tenfold, a hundredfold, for being here with me, for being the steady wall of patience and understanding I needed, for making it so I didn’t fall apart completely.

I want to give him something he can hold on to when we leave here tomorrow.

Something we can both take with us. Something to remember.

Straddled over his thighs, I reach a hand between our bodies and find the split in his skin. Slowly, deliberately, I tease him. Not drawing him out, not yet, but playing with his cock where it’s tucked away in his body. Tracing damp fingers along the protective ridges there, watching the waves of pleasure break over his face.

“Ros,” he groans, hands gripping my hips, claw-tipped fingers pressing to a delicious prick of pain. “Please.”

Please.

Fuck. Fuck, that’s hot.

Having this warrior undone, beneath me, begging for the pleasure I can give him, is so undeniably fucking hot.

Sinking my fingers deeper within him, I draw out his length—hot and hard and slippery, already leaking precome from the tip—and shift my body over him. I tease myself with him,running the plated head of his cock up and down my slit, against my clit, until I’m just as desperate for it as he is.

“Roslyn,” he says, and it sounds like a warning this time. Tight, hoarse, on just this side of control.

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