Page 80 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
“Yes?” she managed to whisper.
The seams tore before she fully registered his movement, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Her gasp turned into a soft cry as he swept her onto her back atop the desk, his hands firm yet careful.
He froze.
“I didn’t mean—” His eyes widened slightly, as if startled by his own boldness. “I just… acted. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have?—”
She lifted her head, breathless, and curled her fingers around his forearm. “You should,” she murmured. “That was hot. Don’t stop unless I ask you to.”
His gaze locked onto hers, dark and blown wide with want. He stared down at her, breath shallow, lips parted, every inch of him taut with restraint and need.
“What do you want to do next?” she asked, her voice low, coaxing.
It sent a thrill through her, the way he studied her like he was learning a new kind of magic—careful, focused, awestruck.
Her breath hitched as his thumb traced the silk covering her nipple, teasing her through the delicate fabric. She arched toward his touch, her pulse thrumming with a rhythm only he could conjure. He played her body like a spellcaster weaving quiet, potent magic. His hand tightened at her waist, anchoring her as his attention dipped lower, the air shimmering between them, charged with unspoken power.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, her breaths uneven as she watched him descend, the contrast between his calm precision and the raw desire in his eyes leaving her dizzy.
When his lips pressed against her through the thin silk of her underwear, it wasn’t tentative. It was deliberate. Maddeningly restrained. Her body ached again, every nerve lighting up as he kissed her there, his breath hot against her.
“Is this alright?” he asked, his voice rough, hungry.
Her heart skipped, words catching in her throat as she nodded quickly, unable to do anything else.
But he wanted words, she remembered that as he punished her with a nip to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, making her cry out.
“Yes,” she gasped, her head falling back, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “Goddess, yes.”
One sharp twist, and her underwear tore free in his hands, the ripping fabric a delicious sound that sent shivers down her spine.
“Loch!”
There was no time for protests—not that she had any—because his mouth was on her. His tongue pressed against her slick heat, and the first moan rumbled from his chest. The low, guttural sound reverberated through her, unraveling her inch by inch. Her knees shot up reflexively, her body yielding to the tidal wave of pleasure surging through her.
He paused, just slightly, lifting his head enough to ask, “Am I doing this right?”
“Yes,” she breathed, hips moving toward him. “Don’t stop.”
That was all he needed.
She hadn’t realized how desperately neglected she was until now. The warm drag of his tongue circled her clit before he sucked gently, so careful she almost laughed. Am I doing this right? If he only knew. What he was doing was maddening. His fingers spread her open, the pads of them massaging with a rhythm that sent sparks racing across her skin. She was warm, wet, and completely at his mercy.
The room was steeped in him—his magical, intoxicating scent, like stepping into a sunlit greenhouse, layered with something richer, warmer, like buttery caramel. It was driving her mad, mixing with the slick sounds of his focus and her breathless cries.
When he pushed a finger inside her—then a second—her mind shattered. Coherent thought slipped away entirely, replaced by raw, aching need.
Had it been minutes? Seconds? It didn’t matter. Her hips moved of their own accord, grinding against him as she chased release with reckless abandon. Her body was completely lost to him.
“Loch,” she whimpered, her voice catching as her head fell back. Her chest heaved as she gathered herself, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “You’re so good at this. So fucking good.”
Her hand slid to his hair, fingers tangling in it as she gasped again. “You’re perfect, Loch. Every part of you. Your mouth—oh, goddess—your mouth is everything.”
He moaned in response. Her gaze flicked downward, catching the subtle motion of his right shoulder pumping back and forth. Realization hit her like a lightning strike, blooming hot across her cheeks. He was stroking himself, his control slipping as he devoured her with the same intensity she craved.
“Loch,” she said again, her tone low and urgent.
Her hand twitched toward him instinctively, but he stopped her with a smoldering look, his eyes dark and possessive, making her melt.
