Page 135 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

He licks faster and pumps his fingers deeper, relentlessly, pushing me right to the edge and holding me there. I’m shaking, begging, barely breathing.

“Come,” he demands against my clit. “Come on my face. Now.”

His command shatters me. The orgasm rips through me so hard I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but scream his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. The most intense, devastating release of my entire life. I splinter into a thousand pieces. Into something new, into something entirely, irrevocably his.

And he doesn’t stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, keeps fucking me with his fingers until I’m sobbing, trembling, and in pieces.

“That’s it.” His voice is breathless. “That’s my good girl. Give me all of it.”

I’m panting his name. Clenching around his fingers. Shaking so hard I’d collapse if he didn’t have his massive hand splayed across my stomach, pinning me to the stone.

I come until I can’t breathe. Until there’s nothing left but him and the pleasure still pulsing through me. Only when the last tremor fades, does he finally pull back and press a soft kiss to my inner thigh.

I can’t speak, can’t move, can’t remember who I was before this man. For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing and the pounding of my heart. I come back to myself in pieces, the crash of the waves, the cold air on my skin, his forehead resting against my thigh as we both try to remember how to breathe.

He gathers me into his arms and lowers us into his lap; my body is still trembling, with my breath coming apart in little gasps.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, little fox? I’m yours. Completely fucking yours.”

I melt into him and let myself rest there. Let myself believe this can be enough.

Then a sound carries to us, not close or loud. But it’s definitely footsteps on the stone above us, where the grounds meet the cliff.

My body goes cold.

I pull back sharply with my heart hammering. “Rye.”

He hears it too. I see the shift in him instantly, the way his shoulders lock and his gaze lifts, already calculating. He reaches for my leathers, helping me put them on fast. He presses his forehead to mine for half a heartbeat.

“We can’t,” he murmurs. “We have to stop.”

I nod, swallowing hard, the aftershocks of pleasure tangling with something colder. Because he’s right, we have to stop. We can’t afford any witnesses.

And the worst part isn’t how reckless this was. It’s that the fear isn’t enough to outweigh the want I still feel. Not even close.

Chapter 45

Gemira

“It’s not going to work.”

“Tell me,” Finn says, standing across from me in the alcove with his arms crossed. I can see the weight of everything he’s trying to hide.

“The guards rotate every two hours. Changeovers give us two minutes unguarded. Three if we’re lucky. Most nights they overlap the whole time, though.”

He nods with his eyes steady on mine.

“And the lock—” I shake my head. “It’s not a normal tumbler. It’s threaded with his magic. The mechanisms don’t behave like anything I’ve seen. Even with the right picks, I’d need fifteen minutes. Ten at least.”

Finn exhales through his nose. “And the windows?” he asks.

“It’s on the third floor, a straight drop down with no ledge. There’s no way in without being seen. But, Finn, I saw sea holly growing on the ground below the window. And thick vines climbing up the stone.”

His eyes snap up to me; we both know it’s her favorite flower and that it has to mean something. He’s quiet, and I can see him thinking.

“What about a distraction?” he says.

“What kind of distraction pulls guards off the King’s private chambers?”