Page 149 of A Song of Air
“Little mate,”they whispered.“You’re mine now and for always.”
And then he moved. She cried out. His hips slammed against her waist, and with every deep thrust against her, he stroked her clit harder, deeper. He had every sensation rising higher. She met him with thrusts of her own.
Their eager passion became a quick joining. Nothing but rough and fast strokes as they desperately climbed for that release they both craved. She cried out, muffling her sounds against his skin as she bit and bit down again. Each bite only seemed to pull the bond tauter between them. So she kept doing it, like she could keep him, pull him down to her very soul. And every time her teeth pierced past his flesh to mark him as hers, he grunted his own pleasure into her ear like a symphony.
Weylyn stopped thrusting and leaned up, yanking her newly tattooed hand to his chest. She whimpered as he touched the sensitive skin and shivered when he brought her wrist to his nose and sniffed. He trailed his tongue against her pulse right before his teeth clamped down against her skin there, lightly piercing her flesh.
The bond yanked and she screamed as another orgasm crested through her body. She trembled in his hold as his tongue slid against the newly branded mark. The one that covered the queen’s like he was countering her hold on Bryson with his own.
Something in her chest warmed and tears spilled from her eyes anew.
Weylyn stared down at her with such a tenderness it brought an ache pulsing between her breasts. And when he pulled out of her, she felt empty. But he lowered himself, languid as he kissed his way over her bare chest, sucking her nipples into his mouth until they were sharp, sensitive points. He licked down her belly, lower still. His hands massaged across her outer thighs just as the stubble on his chin reached the sensitive area around her inner thighs. He scraped along there before licking and nipping at her skin. Bryson shuddered beneath his ministrations, and she arched her back and screamed when his teeth clamped down against her, piercing past the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh.
He marked her hard there, lapping up the wound until it healed. Then he blew warm breath against it. Bryson was already shaking. Pain and pleasure blossomed inside her like wildflowers. It wouldn’t take much for her to ignite. Already she felt herself balanced on that delicate edge. So close to it that when he pressed his mouth against her center, she detonated like a bomb. He pulled her clit into his mouth, suckling until she couldn’t take anymore.
Thrashing against his hold, her fingers dug into his long hair and yanked him upwards. He went willingly, and she shoved, switching and rolling him onto his back so she lay above him.
The action mirrored one they’d done before. Back then it’d only been in his mindscape and she’d been on top of someone else. Now there were no dreams surrounding them. Just this reality consuming them both entirely.
Her palms slapped down against his chest, nails carving into his skin until she drew blood. There was a healing wound over his chest, the question in her eyes obvious, but he shook his head as if to say ‘Later’ before he gripped her hips and thrust into her hard.
Her back bowed, her moan echoing through her tent. She was sure the entire Unseelie Court could hear what they were doing, and she didn’t care. She was tired, so tired of worrying about what everyone thought and wanted. Arlo. Everette. Malika. Her dead family.
It was time to take what she wanted.
No holding back. No restraints. No inhibitions.
Her pleasure echoed through the tent. Their bodies slapping together crudely in the most delicious way. She held on as she rode him, chasing her own desire with every undulation of her hips. The faster they moved, the deeper she carved her nails into his skin, drawing thin lines of blood against him. She leaned down, smearing it against her own body as she pressed close to him and claimed his mouth.
She poured all her emotions into that single kiss. Their hearts pounded in tandem, threatening to burst and intertwine as close as the threads of their souls. Weylyn’s hand buried into her hair at the nape of her neck. He gripped tight enough to cause pain, but she found happiness in the gesture, so much it threatened to explode.
Their mouths came apart and Weylyn whispered against her mouth. “Come, my little mate. Follow me into the darkness.”
And she did.
They came together with quick pumps of their hips. Jets of his release shot within her, a flood of warmth claiming her entire body as she fell apart. She shuddered and cried and moaned until she had nothing left within her to give.
Until she collapsed against Weylyn’s chest, the new bonds burning fresh against her body. The necklace of teeth around her throat. The mark against her wrist. The bite on her inner thigh. It pulsed and burned and hurt in the best possible way, and for the first time in a long time she felt sated. Content.
And soon after, she fell asleep and dreamt of the stars.
