Page 87 of Runes To Rain
I continue my exploration, and he groans again, “Unless you want me to stay?”
“Yes, stay.”
“Fuck,” he growls. Then he’s reaching for me. He slides his fingers under the edge of my shirt and pulls it up. I need to let go of him to allow it. Somehow, I force the compliance of my fingers and release him as he pulls it over my head.
“If it's ever too much, just tell me to stop,” he says. His voice is quiet, entreating as he meets my eyes.
“Ok, I’ll tell you,” I say breathlessly.
This time, I have no doubt as he looks at me whether he finds me, including my scars, ugly or not. The expression of worship on his face would have already told me how he felt, even if he didn’t immediately take a step to close the space between us and kiss the side of my neck. His body is pressed against mine, and I reach out and explore the hard plane of his chest. My fingers find the raised ridges of muscle and the fainter feeling of scars.
He works his way to my collarbone, the heat of his breathscraping over already sensitive nerve endings. When he nips the skin there lightly, I gasp, my back arching. My knees wobble.
I’m thankful for the support as he wraps an arm around me, his hand against my lower back, further pressing me against him.
His lips and tongue work their way down past my collarbone to my breast. His tongue plays with my nipple, and I gasp again with a quiet, high sound escaping me on the exhalation. As he continues to play with the now hard bud, my skin pebbles, and I wobble again.
He lifts me up against him just as my legs give out. “Already?” he chuckles darkly, “Gods, you’re sensitive.”
I wrap my legs around his waist and realize he’s carrying me to the bedroom. I manage to gasp, “Not there.”
“Fuck,” he grumbles as he hesitates for just a moment. Then he turns us slightly, and I feel my back pressed against the wall outside Lily’s room, his hands holding my hips.
It’s my turn to kiss my way along the side of his neck. I scrape my teeth over the skin there, tasting the slight saltiness. Then I can’t help myself, and I bite gently.
As my teeth pinch his skin, he moans.
His chest heaving, he gasps, “Fuck, it’s like you’re my darkest godsdamned desires come to life.”
I feel myself grin even as I move lower and nip his collarbone lightly. He grinds against me, and I wrap my legs more tightly around him, further increasing the contact. Heat pools between my thighs as I feel how hard he is. The back of my hips are pressed firmly enough against the wall that I’m sure I’ll be bruised.
I feel his fingers toying with the band of my leggings. Reluctantly, I unwrap my legs from his waist.
He slowly and hesitantly allows me to slide down and stand on my own, still pinned between him and the wall. His eyes are on mine, and his expression is full of heat.
The energy is charged as I lay my hands over his, where they still rest on my hips.
His fingers tighten slightly, possessively, as though he is suddenly worried I’m going to push him away. Then I feel his thumbs rub against my skin as he presses them into the waistband. He takes one step back, and then another, guiding me gently with him. His eyes are on mine, as though watching for any hesitation. Once we’re in the center of the room again, he presses my leggings off my hips. He kneels in front of me as he carefully removes them from each ankle. I rest a hand on his shoulder to help keep my balance.
My skin pebbles further as I stand, fully exposed, in front of him. I watch as his eyes scan over my entire body, ending as he meets my gaze.
“Dark gods, you're gorgeous,” he says. His voice is tight and full of heat. His expression makes the ragged edges of my breath catch in my throat.
Still watching me, looking through his eyelashes, he kisses one hip bone and then the other.
This might be new to me, but some part of me, some instinct, understands pleasure and knows what I desire. Where that knowledge comes from doesn’t matter now, so I give it no more than a brief moment of awareness. Then I tangle my hands in his hair and guide him where I want.
All thought leaves me as his tongue touches my clit. My knees go weak, and he chuckles as I wobble yet again, and then they fully give out, and he guides me gently down to the floor. Kneeling between my drawn-up legs, he leans over me, a hand resting on the floor on either side of me. The image of being trapped in the cage of his arms at the concert flashes across my memory yet again.
He leans down and kisses my temple, then he leans down further, his face along the side of mine, and whispers, “Tell me you’re mine,” in my ear.
“Just yours,” I manage to gasp as he pulls back to stare at me.
His pupils are blown. He lets out a similarly ragged breath and then kisses his way down my body. Then his tongue is on my clit again, and my hips buck against his face. I feel pressure on my abdomen as his hand presses firmly against my stomach, pinning my hips against the floor.
He pulls his head back, and I whimper as his voice rumbles, “You’re going to come so beautifully for me, but I need you not to move so much.”
Then he presses his tongue against me again, and this time I feel him sucking slightly. I see stars, and my hips grind against the firm pressure of his hand. He continues, licking and sucking and the pressure builds in my body until I feel like there has to be some sort of release. Then I cry out as I feel exactly that crest over me.
