Page 31 of Angel of Ruin

"This is wrong," I whisper, even as I lean into his touch.

"Then tell me to stop," Sariel challenges, his lips hovering mere inches from mine.

I know I should. I know giving in could ruin everything. But as I stare into those golden eyes, I realize I don't want him to stop. I want this moment, consequences be damned.

I grab the front of Sariel's tunic, the smooth fabric bunching under my fingers, and pull him into a deep kiss. Unlike our first time, this isn't fueled by anger but a desperate need that claws at my insides.

His lips meet mine with equal fervor, our breaths mingling, teeth clashing. We're all hunger and urgency, pulling at each other with desperation instead of hatred.

Sariel's strong arms wrap around me, lifting me off the ground. I gasp into his mouth, the sensation of weightlessness sending a thrill through me. He carries me to his bed, laying me down gently, his body covering mine.

His lips trail down my neck, each kiss burning into my skin. I arch into him, a soft moan escaping my lips. His hands, those strong, capable hands, slide down my sides, slowly pulling offmy shirt. The cool air hits my exposed skin, and I shiver, but not from cold.

Sariel's gaze, molten and intense, roams over me. He leans down, capturing my lips again in a searing kiss. His fingers trace the waistband of my pants, sending shivers of anticipation through me. Slowly, he slides them off, his lips following the path, kissing every inch of skin he reveals.

Every moment is filled with tension, like we're memorizing each other. His touch, his kiss, his scent—they all intoxicate me, make me forget everything but him. I reach up, tangling my fingers in his silver-white hair, pulling him closer.

He chuckles against my skin, the sound low and throaty. "Eager, little nexari?" he murmurs, his breath hot on my stomach.

I don't have a response, only a need that grows more urgent with each passing second. I pull at his tunic, desperate to feel his skin against mine. He obliges, shrugging out of it, revealing muscles honed by centuries of battle.

His wings rustle, the feathers brushing against me, adding another layer of sensation. He leans down, capturing my lips again, his body pressing against mine.

"My only regret," he whispers, his voice low and husky, "was that I did not get to taste you this time." He nips at my bottom lip. "I won't be making the same mistake twice."

Sariel trails kisses down my body, his lips lingering on my hips, my thighs. He looks up at me, his golden eyes molten with desire. "You're mine, little nexari," he growls. "Every inch of you."

He dives between my legs, his tongue and fingers working in tandem. I gasp, my back arching off the bed. Pleasure spirals through me, sharp and intense. His tongue is relentless, his fingers expertly playing my body like an instrument.

I clutch at the sheets, my breath coming in short gasps. "Sariel," I moan, his name a plea and a prayer.

He growls against me, the vibration sending a new wave of pleasure coursing through me. I can feel the tension building, the pressure coiling in my core. His fingers curl inside me, hitting a spot that makes me see stars.

"Come for me, Lyra," he whispers against my skin. "Let me taste you."

His words push me over the edge. Pleasure crashes through me, wave after wave. My body convulses, my breath catching in my throat. I can feel his tongue, his fingers, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

I'm still trembling, my body tingling with the aftermath of pleasure. Sariel kisses up my body, his lips lingering on every inch of skin as if it were sacred ground. He whispers against my collarbone, "I believe you have something to prove, little nexari." His voice is husky, filled with a desire that echoes my own.

He climbs off the bed, and I prop myself up on my elbows to watch him. He pulls off his tunic, revealing his chiseled body—every muscle honed to perfection, every line a testament to his strength. I can't help but marvel at him; he's a work of art, a sculpture carved by the hands of some divine being.

His hands move to his pants, unlacing them slowly, deliberately. He pulls them down, and I squirm, a whimper escaping my lips at the sight of him. He strokes himself, his golden eyes locked onto mine, and I can feel the heat building inside me again.

"Sariel," I moan, squirming as I watch him pump his length. And he must see the desire on my face because he stalks toward the bed, not making me wait any longer.

Sariel crawls back over my body, his wings rustling softly. He flips us so that he's underneath me, propping me up on top ofhim. His hands grip my hips firmly, and he looks up at me with an intensity that steals my breath.

"Ride me," he demands, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. There's no room for argument, no space for doubt. He's in charge, and I'm more than willing to follow his lead.

I position myself, my hands resting on his chest for support. His skin is hot under my touch, his heartbeat steady and strong. I can feel him pressing against me, and I bite my lip, anticipating stretching around him, which seems impossible. I know I did it once, but he's so big.

His grip on my hips tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Now, Lyra," he commands, his voice rough with desire. I obey, lowering myself onto him, my breath hitching as he fills me completely.

His eyes never leave mine as I start to move, finding a rhythm that feels right, feels natural. His hands guide me, his hips rising to meet mine with each thrust. The room fills with the sound of our bodies coming together, our breaths mingling, our moans echoing off the walls.

"That's it, little nexari," he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates through me. "Take what you need."

I ride Sariel furiously, my hips moving in a frantic rhythm. His hands are everywhere, gripping my thighs, sliding up to cup my breasts. He pinches my nipples, rolling them between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I gasp, my head falling back as I feel my second climax building.

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