Page 79 of Of Glass and of Gold

I think I whined, but it happened so fast. I pulled down my mask before bringing my lips crashing against his. He returned my kiss with feverish intensity, wasting no time slipping his fingers under my hood and gripping the hair at the back of my head. Anchoring me, because he wanted this just as badly as I did. My body heated, begged, screamed for more.

His tongue swiped along my bottom lip, a question that I was all too happy to answer. Slickness gathered between my thighs as I heartily accepted the request. When my tongue met his, the world melted away. They dueled with an intensity I’d never known with anyone else, like he was the oasis in the desert I’d been wandering for years.

Everything about tonight awakened a part of me I didn’t think I had access to, a wild place that lived inside, one that knew exactly what it wanted from the world and how to get it.

My hips rolled, and my arms pulled him in with all my strength. I was enraptured by the way his soft lips moved over mine, the way his tongue plundered, unrestrained in its access to me. His hips aligned perfectly at my center, and I released a small cry at the pressure, at the dominant way he moved to claim me.

“I want you,” I somehow managed to breathe out between our lust-filled frenzy.

“Good,” he essentially growled, removing his hand from my hair and dropping it between us. In a show of skill like I’d never seen, he hooked my pants, dragging them under my ass. The air brushed along my bare cheeks, and I unhooked from his waist. He set me on the ground, retreating as if he thought I was pulling back.

My only response was dropping my pants and panties to my ankles before I kicked them to the side. He didn’t allow a heartbeat to pass before he was dropping his own. My breath hitched at the impressive length that speared toward me.

“Are you—”

I knew what he was about to ask. There wasn’t one part of me that didn’t want this. “Shut up.” At the same time I wrapped my fingers around the back of his neck to pull him close, I wrapped the palm around his cock and began caressing the shaft up and down with sensual slowness.

He attacked, his mouth diving over mine, stealing the breath from my lips. Our height difference was too great, so I jumped up again. He caught me, as if this was something we’d rehearsed a hundred times.

I could feel the slick, liquid desire pooling between my thighs. I was aching and wanting. Desperate to have him bury himself. His wet tip pressed against my core, and I gasped. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” Not a question of reassurance. A bold, cocky statement that promised a big delivery. I could hear and feel the upturn of his lips against mine. Arrogant bastard, but fuck if it didn’t make me melt.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” I slid my hand over one of his that gripped my thigh, dragging it to that spot between my legs as I leaned against the tree for leverage.

“Fuck,” he groaned as his fingers slid over me with ease.

It was my turn to hold a cocky smirk, but it was short-lived as he plunged a finger inside. I cried out. It felt so good. He slid in and drew out, stroking inside with a pressure that made my eyes flutter. A soft moan floated past my lips, into the humid night air around us.

He took that as an invitation. On the next insert, he added another finger. My jaw dropped, a wistful exhale bleeding into the tiny space between our mouths. His forehead rested against mine, as if he wanted to look down and watch what he was doing to me. He left them in, curling and administering tiny strokes.

I tossed my head back, resting it against the bark.

“Ready for more?”

Before I could respond, a third finger plunged into me. The expanding pressure had me crying out, and I heard birds take flight from their nests. He gave a deep chested laugh that was more of a rumble, and I almost lost all the strength in my hands that dug into his firm shoulders.

“Ella,” he breathed, and I was almost ready to burst at the primal desire coating my name.

“Chol.” His name was a plea.

He withdrew, and I nearly whined in complaint before I felt him. He dragged his tip over my aching clit from top to bottom, nesting against that place that longed for him. My fingers tightened, clutching him for stability, for sanity, as he filled me inch by inch.

I sobbed with devastating satisfaction as he reached the hilt, giving me all of him. He grunted, feral and deep as he settled.

The world stopped existing. There were no houses lining the streets, no dangers lurking in the shadows, no responsibilities bearing down. Just him and me, entangled with each other, taking what we wanted from this life with no regrets.

Drawing on any strength I had, I clawed my way to him, peeling from the tree and kissing him hard. His tongue invaded at the same time he began rolling his hips, massaging into me with expert precision. I panted into his mouth with each perfect glide, my own hips bucking, urging him on. His fingers dug into my thighs, dimpling my skin to hold me up.

He pressed my back harder against the tree, using it as leverage to feed his thrusts at a faster pace. He didn’t just move in and out like mediocre lovers before. No, this was a movement crafted by the gods themselves. Tantalizing upward strokes and delicious curving descents.

It was building already, that feeling I had only been able to call upon in the confines of my own bed, with my own fingers. “Don’t stop,” I begged against his lips before taking his bottom one between my teeth.

“Never,” he promised, continuing to feed me those heavenly thrusts without breaking that delightful tempo.

The world blended into darkness, losing all form and shape. I didn’t want this to end. If the afterlife awarded the best things in life, this would be mine. Chol, the mystery man who’d fought me that first night, whose flirtatious words paved the way for this very moment, the one person in the world I could trust in a fight, a fight for the very thing we both cared most about.

Tingling warmth trickled into a coursing river, and nothing could stop it. It slammed into me with the force of a tidal wave, knocking my own name from memory. I may have screamed. May have ridden that internal explosion with a long, drawn-out moan.

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