Page 114 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
She was gentle at first, her tongue tracing him with slow strokes that left him trembling. Testing. Teasing. Lochlan groaned, every muscle in his body taut with the effort to stay upright.
When she took him deeper, her lips gliding down his length, his vision flashed white-hot, and his head tipped back in a silent gasp. Then she moaned—soft, indulgent, like she liked the way he tasted on her tongue—and the sound vibrated through him, sending a pulse of pleasure that struck deep, leaving him trembling.
His balls drew up tight, his thighs tingling as if the ground beneath him had disappeared. He hunched over instinctively, one hand bracing on the desk behind her, the other tangling in her hair. She followed him, her hands gripping his ass as she pulled him deeper into her mouth, taking him as far as she could manage.
He would have pulled back—should have pulled back—but she moaned again, the sound rippling through him like fire. His control shattered, and he couldn’t stop the desperate grind of his hips as the tension inside him coiled too tight, too fast.
“Nia,” he choked, his voice wrecked, barely recognizable. “Fuck—don’t stop. I can’t—I’m going to?—”
Her nails dug into his ass, and that was it. He shattered, his release hitting him like a lightning strike. A hoarse, guttural cry tore from his throat as his body jerked, every nerve alight.
Her lips stayed locked around him, her eyes rolling closed as she moaned softly, the sound sending little sparks across his skin, his chest heaving, his knees shaking as the last of his strength left him.
When she finally pulled back, it was slow, her lips releasing him with a soft pop. When she looked up at him—flushed and proud and radiant—he felt like he could float away to the stars.
Lochlan’s breath came in uneven gasps, his head spinning as he stared down at her. He felt everything all at once: guilt and joy, exhilaration and awe, power and vulnerability. She made him feel like a god, and yet like he was utterly at her mercy.
He reached for her, his thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth as if he could somehow anchor himself to her. To hold on to this. To the impossible way she made him feel.
To her.
Lochlan hoped that maybe—just maybe—he could.
CHAPTER 37
Nia
“MOTORCYCLES ON THE RISE—STELLA RUNE DESPERATE TO STOP THE NOISE.” —THE STELLA RUNE GAZETTE
It was Monday afternoon, and the tunnels were mercifully quiet. The distant drip of water echoed through the stone corridors, blending with the low hum of glowing runes etched into the walls, their faint golden light flickering. Nia took a deep, slow breath and let the peaceful stillness settle over her.
After the heat of the other night, and the night after that, and this morning, she wasn’t exactly complaining. She needed a moment to breathe, to collect herself, to pretend Lochlan wasn’t slowly, relentlessly reshaping the world as she knew it.
Nia swore she could still feel his touch—those hungry, purposeful hands, his low, growling voice that made her breath hitch—and just the memory had her fighting to keep her expression neutral. The cool autumn air didn’t stand a chance against the warmth that spread through her, making her grateful for the quiet solitude of the tunnels.
Of course, it didn’t help that Lochlan was right there beside her.
His dark hair fell into soft, messy waves, brushing against the collar of his burgundy coat. The scruff along his jaw—thicker now, giving him an even more rugged edge—added to the unfair appeal. Nia’s gaze drifted to his hands, the way they casually cradled his coffee cup, his fingers long and strong.
Focus, Nia.
Not that anyone in the tunnels would notice or care. The unspoken rule of these underground paths was simple: what happened in the tunnels stayed in the tunnels. No one gossiped, no one tattled. Even Tashy, who’d handed over their coffees with her usual wink, wouldn’t breathe a word.
Her green skin had darkened with a blush when Lochlan flashed one of those smiles at her. “Thank you, madame,” he’d said, his voice as smooth and rich as the coffee he’d ordered.
Nia had to bite back a grin as Tashy all but melted into the counter. She couldn’t blame her.
“So,” Nia said as they turned down the next passage, her own coffee warm in her hand. “Where to first?”
Lochlan glanced down the dimly lit corridor. “I don’t know,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly. “Is there any real map of the tunnels? Something comprehensive?”
Nia laughed softly, shaking her head. “No maps. But name something, and I’m sure we can find it.”
He hesitated, his expression thoughtful but a little sheepish. “I’m not even sure what to ask for,” he said finally, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips.
Before he could retreat further into his own thoughts, Nia reached for his hand, her fingers sliding easily into his. “Okay,” she said, tugging him gently down the next passage. “How about this? I’ve noticed you don’t carry any quick spells.”
Lochlan blinked, his steps faltering slightly as they passed a row of small, glowing shops carved into the stone walls. Their entrances were arched and shimmered with spells; faint, colorful light spilled out onto the tunnel floor. One shop was cluttered with shelves of tiny glass bottles filled with swirling liquids while another showcased enchanted trinkets that sparkled with magic. The warm hum of quiet conversation buzzed in the air, blending with the subdued crackle of spell work being tested behind the counters.
