Page 194 of Warlord's Plaything

Her nails rake down my back, her legs wrapping around me, locking me against her. "Xyron," she gasps, and there it is?—

Theneed.

Theplea.

I capture her hands, pinning them above her head, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Say it," I murmur.

She swallows hard, her breath uneven.

My grip tightens.

"Say it."

Her lashes flutter, her pupils blown wide. "I love you," she whispers, the words trembling, raw with emotion.

My heart pounds, something primal, something unrelenting, surging through me. I dip my head, my lips brushing her jaw, her throat, savoring her taste.

"Again," I demand, my voice low, rough, barely more than a growl.

Her breath catches as I move lower, my teeth grazing over the delicate curve of her collarbone, nipping lightly before soothing the sting with my tongue. She shivers beneath me, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

"Xyron—" she gasps, her voice breaking.

"Again," I insist, my hands roaming her body, mapping every curve, every scar, every inch of her.

Her fingers clench in the sheets, her body arching beneath mine, seeking more, always more. "I love you," she breathes, the words soft but fierce, like a vow.

I gaze at my mate, my heart surging with emotions I didn’t know I’m capable of.

I love her with all of me. My soul. My heart. My very being. I kiss her as I spread her legs and brush my cock against her wet entrance.

Then, I claim her—fully, completely.

She gasps as I push inside her, her back bowing, her body molding to mine like she was made for this. For me.

And I lose myself in her, in the way she feels around me, tight and hot and perfect.

I take her slowly at first, savoring the way she trembles beneath me, the way her fingers grasp at my back, pulling me closer, deeper. Her breath comes in short, ragged gasps, her nails digging into my skin, leaving marks that I’ll wear like trophies.

But she is wild, and I am undone.

“Hira, my mate, my love. My soul…” I groan as I try to control myself, to savor this moment and brand this in my memory.

It does not stay slow for long.

Her hips rise to meet mine, her movements desperate, demanding, and I give her what she wants. My hands grip her hips, holding her steady as I thrust into her, each movement driving us both closer to the edge.

Her moans fill the room, raw and unfiltered, and I swallow them with my mouth, my lips crashing against hers in a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender.

Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and I groan, the sound rough, guttural, torn from the deepest part of me.

“Hira…”

“Yes,” she murmurs, sounding more like a vow than anything I have ever heard.

I choke, unable to say the words. Instead, I worship her with my hands, my mouth, my body, giving her everything, taking everything, until there is nothing left between us but raw, aching pleasure.

My lips find her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her breast, her nipples, each touch drawing another gasp, another moan, another broken plea.

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