Page 37 of Whisker me Away
"Have you?" Her response was breathy as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along her throat. "Imagined me?"
"Every night since that kiss." His confession was muffled against her skin. "Dreamed about touching you like this, tasting you, making you come apart in my arms."
Freya's magic flared in response to his words, gold sparks dancing between them like fairy lights. The air around the lake shimmered with power as their energies began to merge, creating something entirely new from their individual gifts.
"Show me," she said, her hands working at his belt with growing urgency. "Show me everything you dreamed about."
Kieran's control snapped like a taut wire. He kissed her deeply while his hands roamed her body with hungry reverence, mapping every curve and hollow, every place that made her gasp and arch against him. When he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, she helped him, letting the fabric fall away without shame or hesitation.
"Perfect," he breathed, his palms cupping the soft weight of her breasts. "Absolutely perfect."
"Kieran, please."
Her voice was a soft, urgent ache that cut straight through him, unraveling restraint with each syllable. Her head fell back as he lavished attention on her breasts, taking one peak into his mouth and circling his tongue around it with aching care. Her breath hitched—then spilled out in a moan as he sucked gently, then scraped his teeth over the swollen bud just enough to make her squirm.
“I need…” she gasped, writhing beneath him. “I need more.”
“I’ve got you,” he said, voice low and reverent. He lifted her with ease, her body pressed tight against his as he carried her to a soft patch of grass beside the lake. “I’ve got you, Freya. And I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, you forget how to breathe—let alone say my name.”
The grass was cool, the earth damp with night, but none of it mattered. She felt only him—the heat of his skin, the steady strength of his arms, the thrum of magic pulsing between them.
Kieran stretched out beside her, his gaze fixed on her face, hungry and reverent all at once. His hand slid along her waist, skimming the curve of her hip before venturing lower, teasing the inside of her thigh with maddening slowness.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to hers.
“Good shaking,” she breathed. Her fingers danced across his chest, exploring the planes of firm muscle, the ridges of old scars. “You undo me.”
“Good.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss just beneath her ear, his voice a brush of velvet. “Because you deserve a man who doesn’t just take—but gives. Every sigh. Every shiver. Every fucking piece of himself.”
“I’ve never felt safer than I do right now,” she whispered, her words glowing with unguarded truth.
His throat tightened. That trust—gods, it undid him. He kissed her again, softly this time, like a vow.
Then he moved. Slow. Purposeful.
With gentle hands, he stripped the last barriers between them, baring her inch by inch like a gift he’d waited a lifetime to unwrap. When they were finally skin to skin, the flare of the mate bond slammed into them like a physical force—magic erupting in gold and silver sparks that danced over their bodies.
“Oh,” Freya gasped, her fingers gripping his biceps as their power tangled, twined, merged. “It’s so much stronger when you’re touching me.”
“Just wait,” he promised, voice thick with need.
His hand slid down her belly, lingering at the place where her thighs parted. He didn’t rush—he needed to learn her, savor her. His fingers found her wet and ready, her slick heat like honey on his skin.
He exhaled hard. “So wet for me already.” A slow smile curled his lips.
When he touched her properly—one finger sliding through her folds, circling her clit with excruciating patience—she arched off the ground with a soft, desperate cry. He watched her face, soaking in every flicker of pleasure. Every moan. Every need that spilled unguarded from her lips.
He pressed two fingers inside her, slow and deep. She clenched around him immediately, and Kieran groaned low in his throat. His thumb rubbed slow circles against her swollen bud, and her hips began to roll, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“Kieran…” she gasped, her voice raw with sensation. “Oh god… I—please…”
He lowered his mouth to her breast again, sucking hard as he fucked her with his fingers, curling them just right, hitting that spot that made her fall apart. Her magic sparked every time she moaned—literal sparks, gold and wild, dancing up his arm.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against her skin. “Let me feel you come.”
Her body went tight, then shattered around him with a broken moan of his name. Her climax pulsed through their bond like a heartbeat, crashing into him in waves of fire and starlight. She trembled beneath him, flushed and panting, and still so goddamn beautiful it hurt.
And she was still begging for more.
