Page 50 of Realms of Swords and Storms
I moved up her body slowly, kissing the path I had taken, until my mouth found hers again. She tasted of salt and honey and her own release, and I drank her in, my own need a sharp, aching pang in my groin. Her eyes, dazed with pleasure, fluttered open to meet mine. A new fire was already kindling in their depths.
“My turn,” she whispered, her voice a low thrum against my lips. She slid her hands behind the back of my neck, and I groaned as she wrapped her legs around me. I reached down to guide myself inside her, but she pushed me to the side, rolling until she sat astride me. I gazed up at her, loving the way theafternoon sunlight played over her breasts and highlighted her dark hair. She smiled down at me as she shifted down my body, mimicking my movements as her tongue flicked over my nipple and then further down. I slide my hands into her hair and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of her lips against my skin as her mouth drifted lower.
Her mouth moved down the hard line of my stomach, a trail of wet heat that made the muscles clench. I watched her, my breath catching in my throat as she settled between my legs, her dark hair falling forward like a curtain, shielding her face. The sight of her, so fierce and proud, kneeling to give me pleasure was an intimacy so profound it nearly broke me.
A guttural groan escaped me as she reached the base of my cock, her tongue tracing a wet, teasing line up the length of me. My hips bucked involuntarily, my fingers tightening in the thick strands of her hair. She glanced up at me for a half-second through her lashes, a challenge in her dark eyes, before taking me fully into the heat of her mouth.
The world dissolved. There was only the slick heat of her, the skilled rhythm of her tongue and lips that drove me to the brink of madness. I was lost, undone by the woman I loved, by the sheer, unapologetic force of her desire for me.
She was not gentle; she was skilled, her tongue and lips working with the same focused intensity she brought to a fight. It was a claiming, a devouring, and I was utterly undone by it. My hands fisted in the rough linen sheets, my hips bucking against my will, chasing the exquisite friction. The world dissolved into the slick heat of her mouth, the rhythmic pull, the raw pleasure that was fast becoming an agony.
"Livia," I gasped, the name a prayer and a plea. I was close, too close to the edge. I reached for her, my hands tangling in her hair, and gently pulled her up. Her eyes, dark with shared hunger, met mine.
My control, already frayed, snapped completely.
“Livia,” I choked out, my voice ragged. “Come here. Now.”
I pulled her up my body, her skin sliding against mine, until she was straddling my hips once more. Her eyes were dark pools of passion, her lips swollen and damp from me. Without breaking our gaze, I lifted my hips, pressing against her entrance. She gasped, a low, guttural sound, and arched her back, taking me inside her inch by slow, torturous inch. Her heat enveloped me, tight and welcoming, and I clenched my jaw, fighting for a control I no longer possessed.
For a moment, I didn't move, just savouring the feeling of being inside her again after so long. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Then she shifted beneath me, her hips rising in silent encouragement, and I began to move.
I set a steady pace, deep and thorough, watching her face for the subtle signs that told me what she needed. Her hands ran over my shoulders, down my chest, nails digging in slightly when I hit a particularly sensitive spot. She was so beautiful like this – open, honest, completely present in the moment with me.
"I've thought about this so many times," I admitted, my voice rough with exertion and emotion. "Lying alone at night, remembering how you feel."
Her eyes opened fully at that, dark and intense. "Me too," she confessed. "Even with everything else... I've missed this. Missed you."
Something tightened in my chest at her words – not jealousy but a profound tenderness. She'd just told me about Jalend, about Tarshi, and yet here she was, looking at me as if I were the only man in the world. It was humbling, this gift of her honesty, her trust.
I pulled her down to kiss me, and she moaned at the change in angle of my cock inside her.
The kiss was desperate, hungry, a raw communication that went beyond words. Her hips began to move, a frantic rhythm against mine, and I met her thrust for thrust. The world narrowed to this small, sun-drenched room, to the feel of her skin slick with sweat against mine, the sound of her ragged gasps mingling with my own. All thought of her other lovers, of the impossible mission she’d set for herself, burned away in the heat between us. There was only this moment, this fierce and perfect connection.
With a groan, I rolled us over, pinning her beneath me without breaking our connection.
"Livia," I breathed, my hips driving into her, faster now, abandoning all pretence of control. "Look at me."
Her eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with pleasure, met mine. She was so close to breaking again, I could feel it in the way her inner muscles tightened around me, in the shudder that ran through her body with every thrust. The sight of her, so completely undone and yet so strong, undid me completely. I drove into her then, a frantic, primal rhythm that was less about pleasure and more about possession.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper, her hips meeting my every thrust with an urgency that matched my own. She cried out my name, the sound a ragged, beautiful thing in the quiet room.
“I love you,” I ground out, the words torn from me as I felt my own release begin to build. “Gods, Livia, I love you.”
Her release came with a sharp, choked cry as her body convulsed around me, pulling my own climax from me in a devastating rush. I roared her name, my body arching as I spilled myself into her, emptying every last bit of the tension and longing I'd carried for weeks.
For a long moment, the world fell away, leaving only the sound of our ragged breaths mingling in the sun-drenched room. Icollapsed against her, burying my face in the curve of her neck, my heart hammering against her own. Her arms came around me, holding me tight. Here, in her arms, I was not a rebel or a fugitive. I was just a man, finally home. This, I thought. This is the only truth left.
I lay there for a long time, my weight supported by her, listening as our heartbeats slowed to a steady, synchronized rhythm. The fading sunlight cast long shadows across the room, turning her skin to amber and gold. Her fingers traced slow, lazy circles on my back, a soothing, absentminded touch that spoke of deep familiarity. I could have stayed like that forever, lost in the quiet aftermath. It was a lie, of course. Forever was not a word that belonged in our world.
With a reluctant sigh, I rolled off her, pulling her with me so we lay side-by-side, her head resting on my shoulder. I drew the thin linen sheet up over our bodies as the air began to cool. Her leg was thrown over mine, her hand resting flat over my heart, as if she could feel its steady, devoted rhythm. We lay in comfortable silence, listening to the distant sounds of the city winding down for the evening. The moment was perfect, and because it was perfect, I knew it couldn't last. But I would hold onto it, burn it into my memory, a shield against the darkness to come.
As the afterglow faded, my thoughts returned to everything she'd told me at the tavern. Jalend Northreach. A nobleman at the Academy, interested in her. And Tarshi – loyal, fierce Tarshi, who'd been her lover since before they'd escaped the ludus. I'd always sensed the connection between them, but I'd never suspected how deep it ran.
Strangely, I felt no jealousy. Perhaps because I'd never believed I could have all of her – Livia was too vast a soul to be contained by one man's love. Or perhaps because I understoodbetter than most the complexity of the heart, how it could expand to hold seemingly contradictory truths.
What I did feel was fear. Fear for her, infiltrating the Academy, getting entangled with a nobleman, planning to assassinate the Emperor himself. And now with her involvement in the resistance...
"You're thinking too hard," she murmured against my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns through the hair there.
