Page 56 of Scorched By Fate

A laugh—breathless, intense—tumbled from her lips, and I pressed closer, our bodies aligning. Skin heated through fabric until there was no separation, and the delicious friction of her body against mine sent sparks rolling through every nerve.

"Say it," I demanded.

"Don't stop."

Her head tilted back against the stone, exposing her throat, the curve of it begging for a bite I wasn’t sure she was ready for. My mouth found her jaw instead, tongue tracing the subtle line down to the hollow between her collarbones. Her breath hitched, the pulse beneath my lips pounding like drums.

“Vyne … I—” Her words broke off into a whimper as my tail tightened, flexing with precision against the skin of her calf. The sound hit like fuel on an open flame. There was no going back now.

“Tell me to stop,” I murmured against her skin, my voice ragged. “And I will.”

Her response came in the form of her hands gripping the edges of my jaw and pulling me back to her lips with a fervent intensity. I devoured her, backing her tighter against the warm, uneven wall as my hands slid up, tracing along the curves of her waist and slipping under fabric until her skin sang against mine.

My talons carefully pulled at the offending layers of clothing, easing the fabric off. Her hands gripped my shoulders tighter, pulling herself closer as the last remnants of cloth fluttered to the ground.

“Selene,” her name was a plea and worship as my mouth dropped to the exposed skin at her collarbone and down to the swell of her breast. My hands explored the softness of her curves, every ridge and hollow memorized.

I didn’t give her time to retreat, to think, to argue. I didn’t want her doubts. I wanted her surrender. Her trust. Her everything.

Falling to my knees was an act of reverence. And I wasn’t done. Not even close.

As I kissed down her stomach, her response echoed louder in the alcove.

And gods, I wanted to hear more.

The moment my lips brushed the soft heat between her thighs, her fingers twisted into my hair. Not a protest—a demand. A claiming. Her hips arched off the wall, subtle at first, then a desperate, unashamed offering, every choked-back sound vibrating through the marrow of my bones, a siren's call I couldn't resist.

Her scent was heady and salt-edged, the familiar tang of her arousal undercut by something darker, something deep that made my fangs ache. My tongue lashed upward in one long, slow, punishing swipe.

"Fuck—Vyne!" Her thighs trembled against the sides of my head, the smooth human skin in contrast with my rough scales, as I pinned her tighter to the stone. The wet slap of my tongue plunging into her, delving deep, echoed off the canyon walls, her taste, her unique essence, bursting across my senses—burnt caramel and reckless, unyielding humanity, a combination so intoxicating it threatened to shatter my control.

She tasted like war, like survival, like Volcaryth itself—fire and resilience intertwined.

Her nails scored the sensitive ridges between my shoulder blades, a painful pleasure, drawing a sound that was more beast than Drakarn. My tail, acting on its own instinct, moved up her calf with slow, sure pressure until the tip teased the soaked, sensitive apex of her thighs.

She shattered instantly.

A silent scream ripped through her, a tremor that shook her entire frame, every muscle locking as her thighs vise-gripped my skull, holding me captive. I drank her down greedily, lapping, sucking, savoring every shudder, every drop of her essence. Her scent, intensified by her release, filled the air.

"Again," I said against her quivering, exquisitely sensitive flesh, the word a rough demand, a promise, a prayer.

My tongue speared deeper, seeking out every sensitive fold, every hidden pleasure point, until she responded, a broken, beautiful sound. Her second climax came faster, harder, severe—a wounded animal sound breaking past her clenched teeth, a testament to the raw power of her pleasure.

When her knees buckled, threatening to send her collapsing, I rose in one fluid motion, pushing down my pants without ceremony. I would have ripped them to shreds with my talons if I had another pair to spare on this journey.

The scaled base of my cock glistened under the glow of the canyon, thick, dark veins pulsing with urgent need beneath the stretched, sensitive skin as the tapered tip flexed hungrily. That traitorous, wonderfully sensitive fleshy rim peeled back, revealing the flushed, engorged slit beneath—already oozing the thick, musky fluid that would brand her; a silent, invisible claim.

Her eyes darkened, pupils swallowing irises whole, leaving only pools of desire. A deep hunger mirrored my own.

"I need you," she breathed, the words a ragged plea, a challenge, an invitation.

The last thread of restraint snapped.

I hauled her legs around my hips, her soft human skin sliding against my scaled thighs, the contrast a delicious torment, my tip nudging her entrance with possessive, sure pressure. She was still spasming from her last peak, her body clenching around nothing—needy, desperate, exquisitely sensitive. The sight, the feel of her pulsing heat, nearly undid me, threatening to send me spiraling over the edge before I'd even fully claimed her.

"Watch," I commanded, my voice a low rumble, my thumb hooking her chin, forcing her gaze downward. "Watch what I do to you,Zhyvarin."

Her wrecked sound vibrated through every scale, every nerve ending. That flared, sensitive rim of my cock stretched her obscenely, the overstimulated nerves making her scramble forpurchase against my shoulders, her fingers digging in. Inch by brutal, agonizing inch, I seated myself, pushing, stretching, filling her, until the scaled base of my shaft kissed her swollen flesh.

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