Page 37 of Ashborne Forged

I couldn’t stop. She pulsed around me, her body trembling, fingers clawing, nails biting into my flesh, as she rose toward her peak.

She was stunning, stretched for me, one leg bent up and caught over my arm, the other hooked around my hip. Her eyes were wide, as if she’d been startled—not alarmed—and she searched mine. She must have found whatever answers she sought, because she met me, thrust for thrust, clinging as if I might flee, little gasping cries begging.

She was almost there, already. And to my horror, so was I.

But she needed to trust me on every level. To know I’d stop if she hurt or grew afraid. And to know I’d bring her pleasure and release. So, gripping what was left of her braid, I pulled her head further back and kissed her deeply, delving the sweet cave of her mouth as surely as my body sought hers.

And then, when her breath began to catch and hold, when her body tensed, and her breasts tightened under my chest, I braced on the hand that held her leg up, leaned back, and added a thumb between us, stroking her in time with powerful, sharp thrusts.

I’d intended so much more for her tonight. But her eyes rolled back in her head, and she began the final climb to that summit, tightening on me with every thrust.

“Grace… oh God—”

“Don’t stop. Please!” she gasped.

With a snarl to my body to retain my control, I pulled out of her completely, freezing when Grace slumped.

Her eyes flew wide and she whimpered, “Why?”

I drove forward, into her, as deeply as the first time, lifting her hips from the bed—and she cried out with pleasure, calling my name as I took her once, twice… and on the third time, threw her over the edge.

Grace threw her head back, her body bowed, nipples small and tight, mouth wide, my name garbled on her tongue as I pumped, and pumped, thumb stroking, wringing every last twitch and buck from her, until she shuddered, and sucked in a breath, her eyes open.

And the moment our eyes locked, I came.

As I hovered over her, jaw slack and body roiling with bliss, I reached for her in the bond, instinct overriding thought.

‘Do you see me, Grace? See what you do to me? See how I want you?’

Whispering my name, she cupped her hand to the back of my neck and pulled me down, writhing, rolling with me, as my body twitched and bucked.

And when that wave of pleasure rolled back out, I slumped over her, flattening her to the bed, my face buried in her neck, and my heart pounding so loud, it thumped in my ears.

I don’t know how long we lay there, but she stroked my hair, fingers trailing, sending prickles of pleasure down my neck, her nails scraping gently on my scalp. And I wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever.

But eventually, I worried I’d crush her with my weight, and forced myself to lean up on my elbows and stare down at her.

I would have made a joke to cover for my loss of control.

Might have said something sweet or heated, to distract her from my shaking.

But the moment our eyes locked, her fingers tightened in my hair again, and she smiled. Beaming.

“More,” she whispered.

I smirked, heart still pounding, and shook my head. “I can’t teach you everything in one night,” I said, my voice so ragged I sounded ill.

“Not everything,” she said with a shrug. “Just more.”

I was so overwhelmed, so gratified, so undeserving, I just stared at her. And then, because I didn’t have words, I picked her up, carried her up the bed to lay her down with her head on the pillow, and kissed her.

Later, when she fell asleep as the sun was rising, I knew I needed to rest too. But I couldn’t stop staring at her.

She was a marvel.

A gift.

A terrifying necessity.