Page 87 of The Bound Mage
By the time he hovered over her again, her whole body was strung tight with longing, breath catching on the edge of a sob. She stared up at him, his mouth still glistening with her pleasure as his hips pressed between hers, the heavy heat of him making her arch into him, desperate of feel more.
Loren groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder. “Goddess save me,” he said, his voice breaking. He pulled back, just far enough to meet her eyes. “Tell me again.”
“I want you.” Araya’s hands were already at his waist, fumbling with the fabric of his sleeping pants and trying to shove them down with clumsy, shaking hands. “All of you. Now.”
He didn’t ask a third time.
She tasted herself on his tongue as he kissed her again, kicking his legs free of his pants. He braced himself over her on one elbow, the heat of his skin branding her everywhere they touched as he reached between them, notching the head of his cock in her slick heat.
She gasped, her hips jerking slightly. “Loren.”
“I have you,ael’sura,” he rasped. And then he was there—sliding through her wetness with devastating slowness as he pressed into her inch by inch.
Araya’s head fell back against the pillows with a strangled cry. He was thick—the stretch of him making her nerves spark like lightning. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she her breath stuttered, trying to process the sensation of being filled with such reverence after only ever knowing what it meant to be taken.
Loren cupped her face, watching every flicker of her expression as he sank the last few inches, burying himself to the hilt. She arched into him with a broken moan, her whole body clenching around him.
“Goddess.” He cursed, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, leaving a trail of tender bites along the curve of her jaw. “Do you have any idea how good you feel,ael’sura?”
Araya could only whimper, clawing at his shoulders as her body arched, silently begging him for more.
He began to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that dragged against every inch of her, stroking deep and sure. Each roll of his hips sent sparks cascading down her spine. His chest rubbed against her breasts, every glide of skin on skin fanning the fire already roaring through her veins.
Araya couldn’t stop the noises she made—soft, breathless moans that became sharper when Loren shifted, changing the angle and brushing a spot inside her that made her entire body seize.
“There?” he asked, voice dark with need.
“Yes,” she gasped. “There, right there?—”
He pressed his forehead to hers and gave her exactly what she asked for, over and over again. She clung to him, to the tension building low in her belly, to the feel of him deep inside her—stretching, filling, worshiping.
One of his hands slid down, finding the tight bundle of nerves between her legs. His fingers circled, timed perfectly with each deep stroke, and Araya broke. Her cry split the air as she came around him, her body clenching down hard, pleasure ripping through her so violently she saw stars.
Loren groaned, his rhythm faltering as she came around him. “Goddess save me,” he choked, spilling into her with a strangled moan as his whole body shuddered.
He pressed his face into her neck, his breath hot and ragged, his fingers tangled with hers where they gripped the sheets. They lay like that for a long moment, hearts racing in unison. Their bond pulsed between them, as sated and steady as they were. Whole.
Loren kissed her shoulder, her temple, the corner of her mouth. “I love you,” he said.
Araya turned her head, brushing her lips against his. “I know,” she whispered. “I love you too.”
Loren leaned in, catching her mouth in another kiss—soft this time, sweet and unhurried, as if now that he’d said the words, he meant to seal them into her skin.
But then her stomach growled. Loudly.
Loren pulled back, laughing. “I’ll get breakfast,” he murmured, his voice rougher than it had been. His lips quirked into a small smile, his thumb lingering at the edge of her mouth. Then he pulled away, leaving her sitting there, breathless and flushed, as he pulled his sleeping pants back on and moved to retrieve the tray that Veria somehow always had waiting outside his door in the morning for them.
Araya pushed back the covers, making her way into the bathing chamber. Her muscles ached in the best possible way, her body humming with memory and magic and the quiet, astonishing reality that she’d woken up beside someone she loved—someone who loved her back.
She took her time washing up, letting the cool water soothe her flushed skin. Finally, she tugged on the robe hanging on the back of the door, knotting it around her waist. Loren stood at the small table by the window, fussing over the tray Veria had left for them. Morning light gilded the lean muscles of his back and shoulders, dancing over the dark, branching scars the shadows had left behind.
He turned at the sound of her approach, catching her watching him. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, something warm and knowing flickering in his eyes. “What?”
Araya felt the flush rise to her cheeks but didn’t look away. Her lips twitched. “Nothing,” she said. “I’m just… glad.”
“Glad?” he echoed, brow raised.
She nodded, padding barefoot across the stone floor. “That you’re healing. That we’re here.” Her hand lifted slightly, gesturing between them—between the tray, the bed, the bond that hummed like a second heartbeat between their chests. “That we have this.”
