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Her head snapped up, eyes flying open. She glared at him as he looked up at her from between her legs. His hair was disheveled and eyes dark with hunger.
Holding her gaze, he flicked his tongue against her again, and when she didn’t look away, he went back in for more and more. He alternated between tight sweeping circles with his tongue and sharp sucks that had her writhing on the table. Anytime her eyes started to fall closed or her head dropped back, he would slow his motions and have her hissing curses at him.
She was right there when she couldn’t do it anymore. When she was about to tip over the edge and her arms were trembling from holding herself up. Her eyes fell closed a moment before she was about to find her pleasure—
And he stopped. Just like he fucking said he would.
Her eyes flew back open. “Razik!” she snarled, her gaze transfixed on his swollen lips.
“For someone who claims to follow instruction when it suits her needs, you’re terrible at it,” he said, dropping open-mouthed kisses along the crease of her thigh.
“I swear to Anala, if you don’t get your mouth back on my—”
And then she was crying out when his teeth clamped lightly around those sensitive nerves at the same moment his black flames swept over her, hurtling her into bliss.
She was still trembling from release when she was scrambling towards him, reaching out to touch skin and muscle that had taunted her for weeks in her bed, but he snatched her wrists in one hand before she got close.
She growled at him, and he smirked. Bracing one hand on the table beside her hip, he brought his face so close to hers, strands of his hair brushed along her cheek. “What do you want, Eliza?”
Her breath mingled with his, eyes holding his sapphire stare. Challenge glimmered there, and she pushed forward so her lips brushed across his when she whispered, “You, Raz. I want you.”
Her words shattered whatever semblance of control they were pretending to have. Everything was desperate and needy. Razik released her wrists as his hands landed on her hips and tugged her forward so she was balancing on the edge of the table where her legs now dangled over the side. Bare skin brushed against bare skin, and she only had a moment to wonder when in all this he had lost his own pants before he was pushing into her.
“Gods,” she gasped, feeling him stretch her. She could only cling to his shoulders, nails dragging down his arms as her mouth explored his jaw, neck, chest.
When he’d worked himself all the way in, he stilled. Fingers wound into her hair, tightening and pulling her head back. But gods, she didn’t want him to stop. She needed him to never stop moving, and she bucked her hips forward, creating her own friction. Something deep in his chest rumbled as he held her stare, and she did it again.
“Move, Razik,” she rasped, winding her legs around his waist and digging her heels into his ass, trying to get him to do godsdamn anything.
“You’re not about to beg, are you?” he asked with a smug grin.
“Not even close,” she retorted, leaning back on a hand. His brow arched as she brought her fingers to the hollow of her own throat. She began dragging them down her chest, between her breasts. A smirk of her own curled as he watched every movement, his wings shifting behind him. “I told you,” she said in a heated rasp, her fingers gliding over her navel and making their way lower. “Others rarely make it worth my time. I can do it better myself anyway.” As she said the words, her finger slipped between her legs that she’d let fall open, letting him see everything. Where they were joined together. What she was doing with her own fingers.
And she held his godsdamn stare the entire fucking time.
Then he was scooping her up from the table. Before she could blink, he was dumping her onto the bed, and she let out a godsdamn whimper at the loss of him being inside her.
“You’re such a liar,” he growled, flipping her onto her stomach as he crawled up the bed behind her. “Trying to tell me your fingers are better than me when you makethatsound.”
“Fuck off,” she spat, pressing back against him when he hauled her hips into the air. Then she was moaning as he thrust back into her in one hard movement.
This time, he didn’t stop. He gave her no reprieve as he drove into her over and over, each time seeming to go deeper than before. His hand slid up her spine, before pressing down between her shoulder blades, holding her in place in a way she had never let another male have her while he did exactly what she’d demanded of him.
He made it worth her while.
His hand slid up farther, sliding around her neck to grip her throat once more, and he was hauling her up, pressing her back to his chest. He bent one of his knees, planting his foot beside them. Tilted his hips, he hit a spot inside her that drew a sound from her that was pure sinful pleasure.
“Say it, Eliza,” he said.
She knew what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t that she’d been lying to him about her fingers being as good as his cock because that was the farthest thing from true, and he fucking knew it. It wasn’t even some declaration of love. That would come in time. But he wanted her to say something she had never said to another male. Something no one else would ever hear come from her lips, and something more primal and permanent among the Fae.
His fingers flexed around her throat, just enough to restrict airflow in the best way, as he withdrew all the way before punching back into her again and then stilling, keeping her back secured to his chest.
“Yours, Raz,” she gasped. “Only yours.”
“Mine,” he snarled in a way that could only be described as a dragon’s growl, before his movements become erratic, sending them both careening into pleasure.
They flopped down together, a sweaty heap of limbs and ragged breathing. Razik stayed on his stomach, not wanting to lie atop his wing, but he rolled her onto her side. The filthy look he gave her had her breath seizing all over again.
