Page 105 of Crown of Wrath

“It’s my turn to play with you now.”

I don’t get the chance to respond. He lays me down and straddles my head, his shaft brushing my cheek as he smirks.

“I liked what you were doing earlier. But I want a turn.”

Then his mouth is on me.

Lightning ignites under my skin. My back arches off the mattress, hips moving of their own accord, torn between escaping the intensity of his tongue and pressing closer, more. I lack the discipline he has. That contradiction—flee or surrender—only makes me need him more.

I grasp his length, guiding him to my lips. The moment I take him into my mouth, his hips roll, slow but insistent.

And then, thought ceases.

I don’t think. I feel.

Pleasure floods my body, but through the bond, I feel his too, as if his need is mine, as if I am the one buried in heat. I lose track of where my body ends and his begins. Shadows and flames still weave around us, our rhythm carrying us further, pulling us deeper.

Deeper.

I drown in it.

Then he pulls away, and the loss is devastating. The world feels cold, empty, wrong. A broken moan slips from my lips, and I arch into the space where he had been, trying to find him, tryingto fix it. My hands search for his body, but my mind reaches for him first.

Where are you?

I don’t open my eyes, don’t want to leave this boundless, breathless place we exist in.

A beat of silence. Then his voice, thick and deep, slides into my mind.

Inside you.

And then he is.

His weight presses into me, heat surrounding me, filling me, claiming me. His lips find my neck, and I smell myself on him, taste his scent in the air. The edges blur further. My nails dig into his back. Or are his digging into mine?

Does it matter?

Does anything matter except this?

The sea of pleasure is endless, its waves crashing in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. The scents of spiced amber and fresh rain intertwine, wrapping around us like the tides of something ancient, something eternal.

Then I’m the one pulling him under, rolling him onto his back, my body writhing against his. My hands splay over his chest, but whose touch is this? Mine or his?

I don’t know.

I don’t care.

The rhythm pulls us deeper, and I surrender. Then, like crystal shattering against stone, our magical world breaks apart. My eyes fly open, locking onto the fire in Cole’s gaze as I scream his name. Bliss consumes everything. The drumbeat pounds in time with our bodies, rising to a crescendo as we moan together—one last, aching note of pleasure before the sound fades.

The madness we touched only moments ago becomes a memory. Echoes of our rhythm hum through my mind, but they are distant now, lingering traces of something unearthly. Mybreath comes ragged as I collapse onto Cole’s chest, our skin slick, our hearts racing in unison. He holds me close, his own breath just as unsteady.

“That was…” His voice is hoarse, but he doesn’t finish.

“I know.” There are no words for what we just shared. Nothing could compare. We’ve made love before, but this—this was something else. Something beyond.

“That was magic,” Cole says, certain, unshakable. The truth of it settles between us, a final, undeniable fact. A slow smile tugs at his lips as his fingers tangle in my hair.

I sigh, pressing my cheek against his chest. “Yes. That was ancient magic.”

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