Page 189 of The Ashes and the Star-Cursed King

“One of the things,” he admitted. “Not all of them.”

His hand lowered to my breast, his thumb circling the peak. It responded to him immediately, tightening beneath his touch, my breath hitching.

“Don’t think I’m the only one,” he murmured.

Another kiss.

“You’re arrogant,” I said.

Even as I was chasing his lips again. Chasing that kiss like an addict. Practically grinding myself against him.

Pathetic.

But I didn’t feel ashamed.

“A little,” he replied, before cupping my face and kissing me again—this time harder, more viciously, something much more akin to the storms of our other torrential trysts. And I let it sweep me away, my desire devouring my pride as his arms folded around me and mine encircled his neck, pulling myself flush against him.

The nagging need that I’d been managing to ignore for the past week was suddenly all-consuming. Utterly devastating.

And hell if I even cared. It was better to be lost in this than to be lost in all our difficult concerns.

His hands glided over wet skin, like he was eager to refamiliarize himself with my body. My thighs parted, the warm water agonizing against my growing need, and my legs folded around his waist. He cradled me, lifting me up, making it easier for me to cling to him. His head craned, allowing me to control our kisses, fervent and unbroken.

My slit met the rigid length of him, and I let out a little strangled sound against his mouth.

“Fuck, Oraya,” he breathed, the words butchered as my back met stone.

I needed him. Goddess, I needed him now. No more waiting.

But he paused, pulling back slightly, eyes meeting mine.

“This alright?” he said, in panting breaths.

At first, I wasn’t even sure what he was asking.

Then I realized: I was pinned here, between his body and the rocks.

Every other time we’d been together, he had been so careful to make sure he never trapped me. Make sure I always was free to get away if I wanted to.

Not long ago, the idea of ever having sex with anyone again in a position where I couldn’t extract myself immediately was inconceivable. And yet, here I was. Not even noticing that he’d trapped me, with a rapid heartbeat that had nothing at all to do with fear.

I reached around his body, dragging my fingernails down his back—lingering at the delicate flesh and soft feathers where his wings met his skin.

It was a guess, really, as to whether he felt those nerve endings the way that I did. But his entire body reacted to that touch. His breath shuddered. His wings—those majestic wings—shivered, unfolding slightly, big enough to cocoon us both in a sheet of black-red. His cock twitched, hips pushing a little against me in a movement that seemed totally involuntary.

I smirked. “I know I’m still in control.”

His eyebrow quirked. “No objections,” he murmured, and kissed me again.

Just as I tilted my hips, opened my thighs, and he sank into me.

Goddess fucking help me.

He hit so deep from this angle, that very first thrust setting my body alight like a match.

I didn’t realize I’d made a sound until his mouth covered mine and he whispered, “Careful. Others are close.”

Oh, I heard that taunt in his voice—saying that just as he swirled his hips, grinding against my clit.

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