Page 140 of Untempered
He went to ask me something else. Something serious. I could see it coming from the darkness in his gaze and the depression between his brows.But I didn’t want serious. I had serious baked into my existence, howling at the door, and pumping through my veins. I could feel its aching claws in my skin.
Making sure he had time to withdraw, I took his face again and tugged him back to me, wrapping my legs around his waist. His breath caught, and I traced his lips the way he’d done to mine.
He rumbled something that wasn’t quite words and flexed against me. I closed my eyes and soaked in the sensations again, the feel of the fine hairs on his thighs and the weight of him holding me securely, the rasp of his stubble, and the warmth of his kisses. But I couldn’t feel his cock.
Reassurances crowded my throat and buzzed through my brain like angry bees.Don’t worry about me,I wanted to tell him, around his sweet and salty kisses.I could choke you in five different ways with less than that many moves. I could break either of your elbows before you knew you were in danger.I didn’t know if that would set him at ease.I won’t ask you to lie for me.But he might need to, at least by omission, if we somehow lived long enough for it to matter.
Breathing quickly, he rested his forehead against mine, his hand skimming down my throat, stroking at the skin above the neck of my overdress.
By way of answer, I ran my hands down his chest, over the firm muscles and smooth skin interspersed with the occasional patch of hair. I wanted to linger and explore the length of it, the texture and density, but I could feel his questions bubbling, and I didn’t want to identify the right words.
He went very still against me as my hands bypassed his hips, following the vee of muscle without lingering overly long. I’m sure it was all nice, and I’d enjoy it all soon. But I needed toknow.
The first thing I noticed was the resilience of the shaft and the way it sat in my palm, like a well-balanced knife. But his skin was softer than the most buttery leather grip, and the shape of it didn’t match a hilt. The way the skin moved over the top of his flesh was strange. And when I ran my fingers over the wonderfully soft, round tip he sucked in a breath.
A quick glance told me that he wasn’t in pain, so I settled back and continued with my perusal, keeping my touch feather light as I explored the curve of him, the strange ridge at the base, the little lip around the tip, then the weight of his balls.
I kept returning to the soft glide of that skin, though. The way it shifted and slid given the firmness of his cock was the strangest contrast, and it surprised me how much I enjoyed it.
“Can I return the favor?” he asked me, the words low.
There was no way his hand would comfortably fit between us. I grasped his hips instead, settling him between my thighs.
He made a noise of amusement or something similar, kissing the corner of my mouth and twisting away. My belly ached. “I didn’t mean you had to stop,” he said, but his thigh pressed firmly into the apex of my thighs, and the words stopped making sense.
I knew he talked to me, and vague impressions came through. Amusement, joy, and sweetness. But it was the sensations that filled me up. The bite of his stubble against my cheek, the still-quick pants of warm air against my ear, the tickle of his hair against my forehead. His hand seared my skin as it skimmed down my body, brushing against my breast. I’d’ve sworn to the One I could feel the back of his knuckles through half a dozen layers. I arched up, but his teeth just scraped against my lobe, making the air thick and entirely unnecessary. But it was his hand closing over my cunt that shut down my mind.
The weight of him. The warmth. The teasing of his finger and the grind of his palm. If I’d moved, I would’ve fallen apart. So I stayed stock-still, his hips still held firmly in my hands, struggling to suck in air. Brief, deep pressure, then he was stroking me from the inside and pressing down on my clit all at once.
“Breathe, Embers,” he said, and the words clawed up my legs and nestled into my cunt. “Good fires need air.”
I drew it in deeply, the heat soaking deep into my bones. The world was quiet, though I could hear us both breathing quickly. I wanted to cut off my remaining clothes and feel his touch on my breasts. I wanted to throw my legs wide and drag him to me. Instead, I stayed still, dazed by the sensations rushing through me.
He nudged in a little closer, and I felt added pressure inside me. I flexed around his finger, and he breathed in quickly, turning his face toward mine.
There was nothing quite so well-timed as his tongue thrusting into my mouth as his hand thrust into me. It was the gasp of his breath over my wet lips and the hungry way he dived back in for more that finally sent me tumbling over the edge, clinging to him as the sensations overtook me, ripping through me in waves that drowned everything out.
And when I could see again, when I could breathe, he was still right there above me, his hand still inside me.
Very much real.
Gently, like I was made of freshly blown glass, he eased his hand from inside me. “There you go,” he murmured, and as I gazed up at him, the world was still quiet. His smile was soft and full of shared joy as he pressed a kiss to my cheek, lingering there and making my breath catch. “Now you’re ready to burn.”
CHAPTERFIFTY-FIVE
CHAY
“A good rider never puts their horse away wet.” ~ Raider’s Ban proverb
Urgency drummed through my veins, and I breathed into it, moved it through my body, felt it burn. Her whiskey eyes were at half-mast, her breathing quick, her hands still locked on my hips.
As I watched, she focused again and found my gaze. My mouth went dry, and the heat swept through me again.
To keep control, I shifted closer, breaking the hold of her eyes and nuzzling gently against the corner of her lips. I could’ve lit her up again, but she was sick and exhausted. And if I managed to sleep, I was confident I’d wake up with her hand on my cock.
The thought made me smile. “You should sleep,” I told her, tugging the fallen covers back over us.
She made a noise of objection, her fingers trying to pull me closer, her lips soft and giving, no longer ravenously seeking.
