Page 110 of Point of No Return

I tsk, motioning toward his shirt instead. There’s a wicked look in his eyes, but I smirk as he unbuttons his shirt slowly. I stand in front of him, watching his fingers undo the last of his shirt buttons while I let my hands slide over the breadth of his shoulders.

Ink covers nearly every inch of his chest down to his stomach, and I let myself trace over each of the tattoos. His skin is smooth, marred only by scars and years of work spent sculpting muscle.

I could look at him forever, I think, letting my eyes wander until they land on his ribs. On the fresh ink tattooed there.

Is that…?

I’m frozen as I look up at him. He’s watching me, preparing for the worst the longer I gape at him. Because inked across his ribs is the same tattoo my father- like every Prevyain male before him- got the night he married my mother.

I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.

Skar has a Prevyain tattoo. Skar got a Prevyain tattoo…for me. It’s the only explanation. But I’m frozen in awe as I consider any other possibility.

“Look at me,” he tells me, voice soft, but my eyes are glued to the black ink stamped across his tanned flesh. “Charlotte, look at me.” His hands tilt my face up toward him. His glacial eyes are so honest, so striking.

He did this… for me.

And all I can say is “When?”

His thumb brushes over my jaw so gently that I don’t even allow myself to breathe as he answers, “In Venine.”

Weeks.Weeks ago. The first time we’d had sex, it was completely dark. I hadn’t even noticed. I’m shaking my head, disbelief flooding through me as his hands cup my face.

“It’s just us. Just you and me.”

“No-” I’m starting to say but he holds me still.

“It’sjust us.”

He’s so sure of it, so sure of himself, as he says it that I believe him. No one else matters. Just us. Just now. I’m kissing him before I can help myself.

This kiss is desperate. I grip his hair and tug him so that I’m trapped between his body and our bed. He tastes like amber and honey and musk- something that’s so uniquely him, and I want to drown in it. I want to drown in him.

He lifts me onto the bed, and I’m spread out on the sheets for him as he leans over me. His mouth trails hot kisses down my neck, sucking and nipping and biting until his tongue traces over one of my breasts. I grip the sheets at the contact, my nipples still so hard. One hand palms my breast and the other urges my thighs apart, strumming my clit.

Pressure builds like a volcano within me, my breath coming out in uncontrollable pants as he withdraws from me suddenly.

His touch is gone for all of a moment before he positions himself between my legs. His crown prods my entrance, and when he slams into me, a scream leaves my mouth. Two seconds is all he gives me, spreading my thighs to their maximum before he fills me to the hilt. I feel so full with him like this. The pressure, the pace, is so good that I’m gasping, gripping the sheets as he slams into me.

He fucks me into oblivion, each stroke so hard I’m not sure how I’m not seeing stars. His hands find my hips, gripping me tightly as he slows to a pace that makes me feel every inch.

Skar’s voice is pained as he pistons into me once.- “I want to fuck you hard enough that you can’t walk.” Twice- Each painstaking stroke stretches me slowly.

I suddenly rememberjusthow difficult it was to walk straight after the first time. His hands find my knees, and he presses down, spreading me until my knees can’t go any further. The pressure is more intense, the friction building in my core already.

Before him, there was sex. Lazy, carefree, casual sex. But there’s never been anything like this: This is all passion, all desperation. All purely us. And if things were different, I’d tell him- again and again and again. Instead, I’m gasping his name, reaching out and yanking him closer, deeper, into me. He falls over me, arms on either side of my head, hair falling into his eyes as he gazes down.

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes squeezing shut when I press a kiss to the inside of his wrist. He pulls out for one impossibly long moment, and my eyes pop open. “I don’t have a condom,” he pauses, waiting for my permission before continuing.

And god, just the fact that he’d stop now if I asked him to is one of the sexiest things ever.

I shake my head. “I’m on the pill. Please don’t stop.”

I watch in fascination as he tugs me to the edge of the bed and tosses my legs over his shoulder. He grips my waist again, hoisting me higher so that my ankles dangle over his back. Then he pushes into me again, this angle so much deeper that I’m practically shaking with need for him.

“Don’t stop,” I moan, and his grip only tightens.

His thrusts grow more and more punishing. Each is harder than the last, each filling me more than I ever thought possible. I can feel my orgasm building, arousal like a tangible thing between us.

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