Page 63 of Arcanist
Our breaths mingle, filling the air with harsh little pants. Sweat coats both of us as our gazes lock.
I lean up, bridging the gap to claim his lips in a wild kissthat makes him groan into my mouth. He tastes of me, and heat rushes to my cheeks as I realise his lips are still wet with my release. His next thrust hits harder, his pubic bone grinding against my clit in a way that breaks me.
I cry out against his lips, and he swallows the sound, repeating the motion again and again. I’d barely gotten used to sensation, and this…
My final climax is merciless, ripping me apart until there’s nothing left but shimmering dust. I tear our mouths apart in a desperate search for air. My pussy squeezes him until his movements stutter. His forehead drops to meet mine, then a noise that’s half-growl-half-groan breaks free of his chest. Deep inside me, his cock spurts, ropes of heat spilling out where we join as he finally follows me over the edge.
As our heartbeats slow, and he rolls over to drag me into his arms, I realise I might’ve just made a terrible miscalculation.
Because no matter what I said at the start, I don’t think just once will be enough. There’s no way I’ll be able to pretend this never happened when every time I look at him, I’ll be drawn back to this moment.
“You—” I gasp. “Are?—”
He raises that one brow expectantly. “Yes?”
“I should banish you.” The threat has no heat, especially when I snuggle deeper into his embrace as I say it, throwing one leg over both of his.
He strokes a strand of hair away from my sweaty shoulder. “I can think of some reasons why you might keep me around.” A pause. “Do you want to talk about why you were crying?”
“Your oral skills are terrible,” I deadpan, then sigh deeply. “No. It… It was perfect. I thought that after all these years maybe I’d forgotten; maybe I was hoping for too much. I spent so many hours justwishingI’d taken more time to appreciate what I had while I was alive, praying for my memories tobe sharper so I could remember what it really felt like. And the books, they helped, they soothed, but they cut at the same time, because I knew I would never have it again, and I… You gave it back to me. Thank you.”
Somewhere in the midst of the confession, my eyes start to burn again, but I blink it away, tracing mindless lines over his chest.
“It’s such a silly thing to miss.” I try for levity and fail when my voice cracks a little.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t?”
“No. At its core, sex is about connection and intimacy. Craving that is only human.” His thumb brushes back and forth over my shoulder as he speaks.
“Perhaps.”
But I fear that in giving in to this, I’ve unlocked a deeper craving that won’t be so easily assuaged. If Dakari and I continue our liaisons, and the others join in, it won’t just be sex that I crave. I’d already been so drawn to their company before we added this addictive passion into the mix…
A new fear squirrels between my ribs as I lie there, letting Dakari pet me until his soft snores fill the room. Even with my contract, and all the work I put into preventing any kind of fallout from the inevitable end ofthis, I never realised just how at risk my heart was until now.
Twenty
Pierce
Speaker’s Corner is one of my least favourite places in London. Not only is it subject to the bellowing of inepts bemoaning their ridiculous problems on a regular basis, it’s intolerably close to Marble Arch. The only thing worse than the local inepts, are the tourists swarming like flies around a half-finished tribute to one king’s vanity and another’s frugality.
I can’t help but wonder why on earth my grandfather picked here to meet as I tune out the droning of the idiot on a box behind me. He’s wittering on about oppression when I doubt he even comprehends what the word means. Worse, his voice is grating on my bones, which already throb with weariness.
“You look tired,” Benny says, and I whirl, grimacing when I find him holding two paper cups that reek of poorly brewed coffee.
Still, I need it, so I accept without complaint, lifting it to mylips.
“Slowly. It’s hot.”
The heat is searing, but that’s almost a relief after the last few days. I embrace it with a grimace.
“Thank you.”
Benny sweeps an arm out, and I relax a little when I realise he’s traded in his jacket for a shabby practical woollen coat and a stripy mustard coloured scarf that might once have been a sunny yellow.
“You’re walking stiffly,” he observes. I just grunt. “Pierce. Look at me.”
