Page 62 of Snag
Zaya reaches for me. And this time, I can’t stop myself from pulling her into my arms, into my lap. She twines her arms around my neck, legs straddling mine.
“I knew then,” I whisper into her neck. “Without a doubt, I knew you were still alive.”
“Because the gryphon knew.”
“Yeah.” I press my face alongside hers, just breathing for a moment. “I picked myself up, walked the entire fucking way back to the main pack house, avoiding everyone. Got online and figured out what had happened. The gryphon fucking derailed that train. No one was badly injured, but there was a massive investigation. Even I couldn’t find any uncompromised footage. Just a bright flareof essence whiting out the entire area, then flickering back on to the derailed train in all its crumpled glory.”
Zaya presses her face into my neck, breathing me in. “And then …”
I tighten my hold on her. “I started searching for you. I couldn’t get anywhere fucking close to Disa, not that she would have answered my questions. But I could have —”
Zaya’s fingers thread through my hair, and her mouth is on mine before I’ve even registered that’s she shifted in my lap. The kiss is all encompassing, desperate. Her tongue in my mouth. Jaws, lips, all tense. Teeth almost biting.
Instantly hard again, I grab her hips and grind against her core. Too much clothing between us.
Zaya gasps into my mouth, then groans and melts into me. The kiss softens, easing into passion instead of being edged in terror. The terror of almost losing each other.
Even if Zaya doesn’t remember our foundation, her body knows me. Trusts me to take care of her, to give her what she needs. That connection.
She tugs at my shirt, so I yank it off. Her mouth is on mine again the moment it’s clear. Her hands are all over my chest, gripping my shoulders, as she grinds down on my cock.
The residual spell flare from Bellamy’s curse — blackened lines radiating across my chest, muddling all my tattoos — retreats under Zaya’s hands, dissipating under her touch. As if that lingering bit of foul essence can’t stand even a brush of Zaya’s heady power.
“Please … please …” Zaya whispers, sucking on my bottom lip.
I palm her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra, maybe just a camisole. Her nipples are erect. I groan into her mouth.
Her essence snaps out, flooding the room, then twining looselyaround us. Her kisses and caresses become almost frenzied.
“What’s happening?” she gasps, still trying to keep quiet though both of us would sense if anyone was near. Before I can articulate a response or try to slow us down, she adds, as if chastising herself, “What’s happening doesn’t fucking matter right now. I need your cock in me.”
“Oh, fuck,” I moan. “Is this … too fast?”
“Am I currently coming on your cock?” she asks.
“Fuck, not yet.”
“Then it’s not too fast …” Zaya reaches between us for the buttons of my jeans. Then she takes a shuddering breath and hesitates for a moment, meeting my eyes. “It’s not too fast, is it? We can … we can …”
Her pupils are blown out, swallowing most of the violet of her eyes. Her lips are slightly swollen, flushed, from our fierce kisses.
Keeping my gaze locked to hers, I slide my hand up her thighs and under her skirt, which is already rucked up. With a gentle swipe of my talons against the sides, I tear off her underwear. The partial transformation of my fingernails is effortless, triggered with barely a thought, as if the gryphon is pressed against the insides of my skin as eager to touch, to fuck, Zaya as I am.
She laughs, breathless and relieved — and not at all concerned about me suddenly manifesting aspects of my beast. Then she shifts back to free my cock from my jeans.
“No underwear …” She flashes a wicked grin at me.
I laugh, helpfully sliding my hips forward and leaning back so she has more room to maneuver on me.
Hand ringing my cock, holding me in place, Zaya rises on her knees —
Trying to slow us down just a bit, to savor themoment, I slip my fingers between her legs, seeking her warmth, teasing through her wetness. She shudders, closing her eyes and groaning quietly as I rub her clit in light little circles.
“I haven’t gone home yet,” I murmur in answer to her question about my going commando, hoping my shop-worn callouses aren’t too rough.
Something flashes in her eyes — and it might simply be the universe looking through her, just as the gryphon peers through me. With one hand still gripping my cock, she pins me by the neck against the couch with the other. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
Fuck me. My brain fucking melts. I’m already seriously fucking worried that I’m going to come too quickly, even though I jerked off after our morning make-out session.
