Page 80 of Obsidian and Frost
He tried to turn his head, but I grasped the back of his neck and held him in place, eyeing his cock pressed up tightly against the glass through the mirror over the sink basin opposite us. Hard, thick, and fucking raging.
I ground my cock over his right ass cheek and his breathing turned ragged, his fingers curling against the glass.
I hissed at his ear as I stroked his nape leisurely, “Ready to melt for me again?”
He startled me as he reached behind him and pressed his hand to my cock. A sexy smile spread over his face. “I’d say that’s gonna be mutual, necromancer.”
Mmm.He was taking more control this time, leaning into it,sinkinginto it.
I released his nape to encourage it, and slid my hand down to palm his cock instead, earning a delightful hiss from him.
I brushed the fingers of my free hand over his bracelet. “Soon she’ll be here with us like this in more than just bracelet-form.”
I smiled as his cock jerked in my hand at that delectable thought.
“Fuck, yes,” he rasped, turning his head, then capturing my lips.
He kissed me hard and hungrily, stealing my breath.
Fuck,I loved the way he kissed me—so raw and passionate, like he actually couldn’t get enough.
“I want you to know, Sylas,” he rasped, easing back for a moment. “I’m really happy to be here with you.”
“I know you are. I feel it, don’t worry. And you’re certainly not alone in that sentiment.”
“I’m not?”
I chuckled against his lips. “No. You’re not, Lazriel.”
His mouth crashed against mine again.
Expecting it to be harsh, rough, and chaotic as was his usual way, I was taken aback as he kissed me deeper with slow and easy sensuality, savoring every nip, kiss, and lick that he peppered and teased me with.
As he slid his tongue into my mouth, it was a tasting, not a desperate ravaging.
It might not have been harsh and surging out of control, but it was overwhelming in a wholly different way.
Intense and sinful.
Open and earnest.
And fucking courageous.
This was him letting go further, showing more acceptance for this part of him that he’d spent so long denying.
“Shit,” he breathed, easing from the kiss, his eyes hooded as he panted. His cock was basically pulsing in my hand and I’d barely begun to tease him, my fingers remaining still during our heady kiss so that I hadn’t undercut what he’d been trying to convey through it—that he wanted our connection to run deeper.
More than lust.
More than the sparking need for sexual satisfaction that had only recently been unlocked in him where being with a man was concerned.
“Fucking need you,” he uttered against my lips. He half-twisted around and fisted my hair. “Now,” he partially pleaded, partially ordered.
Hmm.While I was used to taking on the dominant role in my sexual encounters, lately the absolute need to enforce that had waned.
Maybe it was my sickness.
Maybe it was being sent to Wraeven Academy, my world altering, my priorities changing, things opening up in highly unexpected ways.
