Page 132 of The Duplicity of Thieves

“I love your violence. I love your favor. I love it when you shred my soul apart and piece it back together at your will. I love you, Jos, more than anyone has ever loved before.” His hand slithers back up and fondles my neck. “We are inevitable.” He nuzzles my cheek. “Will that suffice?”

It’s the most insane thing anyone has ever said in the history of the Universe. He’s being honest, raw, and vulnerable. I nod my head yes.

“I want the truth tomorrow. All of it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Aedon,” I manage to gasp.

He fondles my breasts again, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. They harden at his touch. He takes a finger and swipes it where I'm soaking wet, bringing it to his mouth and cleaning it off. He brushes my hair to one side gently, then kisses my neck with the patience of a saint. When his teeth graze my skin, a moan escapes my lips, and he flips me over, laying my back onto the bed and climbing over me.

He takes his time pushing into me. Every nerve ending in my body explodes. I’m existing in a place that doesn’t exist. I whimper, and he lets out a strained breath. When I think he’s all the way in he readjusts, pressing his palm against the small of my back, and he pushes in further. The oxygen in my lungs evaporates, and I can’t see straight.

“Look at me, Jos.” Aedon’s voice is hardly above a whisper.

I manage to open my eyes, and it takes me several deep breaths to focus. He looks wild. Clouded blue eyes stare back at me with intention, and every muscle in his body is tense. The way he says my name sends heat straight to my core.

“Yes, Aedon?” It comes out loud, like I’m yelling in a library.

“I love you.”

“Show me.” It’s as much as I can say, but he accepts it easily and without doubt.

His forehead glistens with sweat. He places his hand on my abdomen, pushing down. I already felt him, but there is so much pressure I whine. My body craves release. I buck my hips, which causes him to pull out and slam back into me.

“Shit,” he groans and leans over me.

Aedon reaches up and grabs the headboard. His thrusts are slow enough to torture me, and hard enough to make me come. Heat is already building inside of me, and I dig my fingernails into his sides, clawing at him to be closer.

“If you k-keep…” I can’t even finish my sentence.

“You’re going to come.” He smirks with an excruciating amount of effort.

My fingernails dig deeper, and he growls. Not only can I feel him inside of me, but I can feel his emotions. Aedon’s thoughts, fears, and perspective pours into me, and it's overwhelming. It’s dangerous and addictive.

“Come for me, Jos,” he demands.

“Wi-with me, Aedon. Pl-please,” I beg. I’m squirming and shaking trying to stave off my orgasm.

“Whatever you want, love. I will give it to you.” His voice is tantalizing. After a few more strokes I feel him stiffen inside of me.

“Come, Josie,” he commands, sharing my breath. I bite his bottom lip until it bleeds, tasting the sweet iron in my own mouth. He doesn’t pull away or rebuke me, just melds his mouth to mine. I release all of the pent-up energy from the night.

“I love you, Aedon,” I whisper. I orgasm, loudly and unashamed. The pressure inside of me combusts as he groans. His slippery heat empties into me. He pumps a few more times and comes again.

For a few minutes we’re a heap of sweaty limbs, dragging in air trying to figure out if we’re still alive. He pulls out of me slowly, carefully.

“Fuck.” He rolls over and falls over the side onto the floor, dragging me with him onto his chest. His hand swipes across his mouth where I bit him, coming away with a red smear. Aedon doesn’t even acknowledge it.

“Did you come twice?”

“So much.” He grins. Ninety percent of his agitation must have been sexual frustration.

I lay my head on his chest and trail the hidden symbols that lie under his tattoos with my fingertip. His hand absentmindedly strokes my hair. We’re impossibly close, but I want him closer. We are the shredded remnants of one soul.

“How many would that be for you, tonight? Three?” He counts on his fingers.

“Two of those were pure torture,” I remind him.

“I guess we should even the playing field then.”

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