Page 92 of Sight of Fate

He strips off the rest of his clothes, giving me my first glimpse of his cock with nothing to block the view. I stare at it, noting the veins and smooth skin, its length, and the way it proudly stands at attention.

His thigh flexes as he places one knee on the bed and crawls up my body, settling on top of me. “But first, I want you to see everything from the beginning.”

Eyes locked on mine, he opens the door between us, showing me everything he’s been holding back. The euphoria he felt when Raine told him he had a mate and when he finally met me. His worry that he would fuck it up. The tight rein he kept on his emotions so he wouldn’t scare me off or overwhelm me. His hunger. How he craved my kisses and my touch, burned with the need to claim me. The jealousy he felt of Leif, and the fury and terror he felt during Andros’ attack. How proud he is. Every little and big thing is spread out before me.

A tear slips from my eye. I wasn’t ready when I first got here, still running from Hank. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

His mouth descends, and his kiss isn’t just demanding; it pulls every drop of my need and emotion to the surface. Shifting to the side, his hand glides down my body, then squeezes my breast. I arch into his palm for more.

“Can I touch you?” I ask, desperate to know what he feels like.

He takes my hand and places it on his chest, and I explore every dip and hard ridge before sliding my hand south. He shudders when I reach his cock and run my fingers lightly around the rim and down his shaft. The skin is softer than I ever imagined.

Wrapping my hand around the base, I squeeze and slide my hand up and down. He groans, and I’m surprised to feel him lengthen even more.

He moves his mouth down to capture my hard nipple, and I moan.

A drop leaks out of the tip of his cock and, curious, I swipe it up and bring it to my mouth. “You taste so good.”

His eyes are almost an inferno as he watches me suck my finger. “My turn.” Ignoring my protest that I’m not done, he prowls down my body and closes his mouth over me. I arch off the bed, and his satisfaction in my pleasure as well as his determination to make me come using his tongue and fingers spill through our connection.

“Teague,” I cry out, fisting the sheets. “Please.”

His finger glides up the middle of me, then back down, gathering wetness and spreading it before sinking into me.

I moan and clamp down on his finger.

So fucking tight.

Are you going to fit?

Given how big he felt in my hand, I can’t help but wonder.

Swirling his tongue and bringing me closer to the edge, he adds a second finger. “You’re dripping, sweetheart.” He presses a third finger in, and I gasp at the fullness and lift my hips. “That’s it.” He slides in and out, then places his mouth back on me.

Everything spirals inside me. Tighter and tighter. His hunger merges with mine, feeding off each other, and I thrash from side to side, needing to come. Curling his fingers, he strokes my inner wall, and it pushes me over the edge. Coming hard, I cry out, and still, he doesn’t stop, wrenching every tremor from my body and capturing it with his mouth.

He languidly continues his exploration of my body, teasing and tasting, learning every inch of my body and the little spots that make me gasp with pleasure until I’m writhing with need again. Moving up my body, he settles his cock between my legs and rocks against me. While his mouth was amazing, I’m so turned on, all I can think about is him inside me.

“Teague, please,” I pant, lifting my hips.

He reaches down and guides the tip in, then rocks back and forth. His jaw is tight with tension. “Relax, sweetheart.”

“It feels so big,” I whisper, concerned he won’t fit.

“We were made for each other,” he reminds me, moving his hand down to circle my swollen and sensitive clit. I gasp and arch my body. He slips in another inch. Rocking back and forth, he continues to slip the tip in and out.

Fire rips up his shaft with every stroke in and out of my body as the tip becomes more and more sensitive. I moan, but I can’t tell if it’s because of what he’s feeling or what I am—the two of us are merged so tightly together. I grab his hips and meet his thrusts with my own, wanting more, needing him to sink all the way into me.

He pushes the rest of the way until there’s not a breath of space between us. Sweeping my hair back, he stares down at my face. “Charli, sweetheart. I claim you as mine, my mate, forever.” His voice is growly and possessive.

Light wraps around my heart and soul. It’s dynamic and strong like him, but with a depth of emotion that is bottomless and reserved for those he loves the most. I gasp when my soul does the same to him.

“There you are. Strong and sweet with so much love to give. I promise to do everything in my power to deserve you,” he murmurs, a tear sliding out of the corner of his eye. “Do you feel it?”

I nod, a bit overwhelmed with how open and vulnerable I feel, but knowing he feels the same makes all the difference. “Teague, my mate. My forever.”

Teague moves, and I moan at the explosion of thoughts and images streaming between our connection. Every single image he’s captured along the way. My breath catches at the way he sees me. Beautiful and desirable, more than I could possibly have dreamed of being, but also smart, creative, and compassionate.