Page 49 of Gift from the Stone

“Are you going to get undressed?” I ask softly. Despite just begging him to stop, my body buzzes with want all over again.

“No. Close your eyes.”

Huffing, I do as I’m told rather than argue. As soon as my eyes close, he tilts my head back and lets the water soak my hair. I can hear the cap popping off my shampoo bottle, then I feel his hands find their way into my hair, massaging my scalp.

The sensation of his strong yet gentle hands navigating through my hair, untangling knots with patience, mirrors the tenderness he showers upon me. His gentle care and the smell of the shampoo, mixed with his mahogany and sandalwood scent, make me want to curl up on his chest and lie the day away with him in his treehouse.

Without my sight, my other senses seem to amplify. Everything he does seems like so much more. I surrender to the experience, letting each stroke of his hand be etched into my memory. Never in my life have I been attended to so sweetly, and I marvel at the feeling of being cherished.

“Turn.” His gravelly voice breaks up the emotions that were beginning to creep forward.

Bringing my back to his front, he lathers his hands in my bodywash. “You’re the most perfect woman in all the realms, Willow. You’re strong, resilient, sweet, loving, and so fucking sexy. I plan on spending the rest of my life worshipping at your feet.”

His strong, calloused hands rub soap all over my body, taking his time massaging every knot and mapping out every curve. My breath hitches as he skims underneath my breast, kneading them as they grow heavier. He tweaks and toys with my nipples just the way I love, reading my mind and body like a book.

“Give me one more, Will,” he whispers, kissing behind my ear as he trails his hand down my stomach and his other arm wraps around my waist to hold me up. Leaning my head back onto his chest, I link my arm around his bicep for balance, and the world tilts as my thoughts flood with lust.

“Yes.”

He wastes no time. This time, he won’t force me to wait and drag out my pleasure. He wants it, and he wants it now.

He masterfully circles my clit, over and over. His hands follow every one of my silent pleas. Faster, slower, right there. There’s no blocking him out as he uses his gift to steal the knowledge of how I want him to touch me from my mind.

Sinking two fingers inside of me, using his thumb to continue working my swollen nub, all it takes is two curling strokes and I’m falling apart. Moaning and withering in his strong arms.

Reluctantly, he pulls his fingers from my core and takes his time rinsing me off then bundling me in his arms.

“Come on, little warrior. You’ve got a test to pass.”

Damnit. I forgot about that.

“Are you going to be mad at us all day?” I ask Draken as he pouts the entire way to the backyard. He complained the whole time we were at breakfast, giving me and Tillman, well, Tillman, the cold shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you at all. Never. I’m mad at him.” He aggressively points his finger at Tillman. “There was no reason for him to lock me out. I’d let him watch me fuck you anytime he wanted.”

“Draken,” Tillman and Corentin yell while me and Caspian snicker.

They’ve been fighting with him since we walked into breakfast. Ordering him to drop it and quit imitating all the sounds he heard coming from the bathroom. I personally find his hissy fit hilarious, but I get a stern look from one of the others every time I laugh. Draken gets so worked up about the craziest shit and they just feed into him.

“We didn’t fuck, as you so explicitly put it. I explained that to you already. And I’m not going to apologize, nor is Tillman, for enjoying a moment alone together. We’ve had some of those moments too if you don’t recall.” I justify, shaking my head, laughing at all of their looks.

The pout melts off his face and is replaced with a hungry, thoughtful gaze. He slings his arm over my shoulder, tantrum long forgotten in the span of two seconds.

“You’re right, little wanderer. And I plan on having many more.”

“We need to get going, Willow,” Corentin orders, pinching the bridge of his nose, beckoning me with his other hand.

Bounding over to him, I holler see you soon to the others as I wrap my arms around him, laying my head against his chest, hopefully wrinkling the perfectly ironed shirt he keeps picking imaginary shit from.

I’m the one taking a test, but he seems to be coiled tighter than a spring. His shoulders are bunched to his ears, and his suit is straining against the fabric around his biceps.

As soon as we step out of the transport, I stand my ground. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, we’re going to be late.”

“Nope, don’t do that, Corentin. Tell me.” I hold firm in my spot as he tries to step around me.

“Drop it, Willow. You need to get ready for your test,” he snaps.

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