Page 51 of Hiss and Tell
His hands grip my thighs hard enough to bruise, spreading me wider, keeping me completely open and vulnerable to his assault. “Stay still,” he commands when I try to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation. “Let me devour this pretty pussy properly.”
The sucking sounds are sexy as sin. Then he stops long enough to speak. “You taste like my personal addiction,” he growls against my flesh, the vibration making me tremble. “I could eat you for hours and never get enough.”
As he settles between my thighs as though he could be comfortable there for the rest of the night, he breathes, “That’s right, love. Let me make you come.”
“God, Sebastian,” I gasp, and he responds by intensifying his attention, his tongue circling and flicking in ways that make stars burst behind my eyelids.
When I look down at him, something in my chest catches. His pupils have changed—still golden, but now slit like a reptile’s. His skin seems to have a subtle luminescence, and when he meets my gaze, I see something wild and possessive that should frighten me, but only makes me burn hotter.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, and his answering growl vibrates against my sensitive flesh.
He doesn’t stop. If anything, he becomes more focused, more intense, using his tongue and lips and the gentle scrape of teeth in ways that make me lose all sense of time and place. His hands grip my thighs, holding me steady as I writhe beneath him, and I can feel the carefully controlled strength in his grip.
This is what he’s been hiding, I realize dimly. This power, this intensity, this primal male who wants to devour me completely.
“I’m going to—” I start to warn him, but the words dissolve into a cry as pleasure crashes over me in waves. He doesn’t pull away, instead helping me ride out every tremor until I’m boneless and gasping.
When he finally raises his head, his pupils are still slit, his breathing ragged. There’s something fierce and satisfied in his expression that makes my heart race all over again.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to my inner thigh. “You taste like heaven.”
I reach for him, needing to touch him, to return the pleasure he’s given me, but he catches my hands.
“Not yet,” he says, his voice still rough with that otherworldly quality. “If you touch me now, I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you completely.”
The promise in his words rekindles a fire low in my belly. “Would that be so terrible?”
“No,” he admits, his eyes slowly returning to their normal amber hue. “But when I make love to you for the first time, I want it to be perfect. I want it to be part of something magical that binds us together forever.”
His words penetrate the haze of pleasure, and I remember why we’re waiting. “The ritual.”
“The ritual,” he confirms, gathering me against his chest. “Can you wait a little longer? For something that will make us one in every way that matters?”
I curl against him, feeling his sanctuary effect wrap around us. “So, the ritual?”
“Soon,” he promises, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Very soon. But for now…” His hands stroke my back gently. “Let me just hold you. Let me memorize this moment.”
We stay like that for a long time, skin to skin, hearts beating in rhythm, anticipation humming between us like a living thing. This restraint feels more intimate than anything else we could have done.
“I love you,” I whisper against his chest.
“I love you, too,” he murmurs back. “All of you. Your strength, your courage, the way you protect what matters to you.”
As the candles burn lower around us, I realize that waiting isn’t about denying ourselves pleasure. It’s about choosing something deeper, something that will last beyond physical desire.
It’s about choosing forever.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sebastian
Friday evening, and I’m sitting in my apartment surrounded by ancient texts and ritual preparations when my phone buzzes with a text from Thaddeus:Heard through the Harmony Glen gossip network that you’re preparing for something big. Emergency brother consultation required. I’m bringing beer. Don’t even think about arguing.
Before I can respond, there’s a knock at my door. I open it to find Thaddeus standing there with a six-pack of craft beer and his characteristic smirk.
“You look terrible,” he observes, pushing past me into the apartment. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“Hello to you, too.” But I’m smiling despite myself. “How did you know I needed—”
