Page 128 of Stolen
The possessiveness in his tone—the hunger—it lights something reckless inside me.
Because I want to be taken.
Claimed.
Marked.
And never,everlet go.
“Then stop talking, Dragon Lord,” I whisper, lips brushing his. “And fuck me already.”
And thank fuck, he does.
First, he claims my mouth—savage and starved.
There’s no patience in his kiss, no pretense.
Just teeth, tongue, and aching need.
He devours me with an urgency that leaves me gasping for breath when he finally pulls back, his silver eyes gleaming like wildfire.
I don’t get a second to recover before I feel it—him—the thick, hard press of his cock grinding against the slick heat between my thighs.
My body bows toward him, every nerve ending lit up like fire in a thunderstorm.
“So hot and wet for me,viyella,” he growls, voice like velvet dragged over flame.
Then, with supernatural speed and strength, he lifts me, spins me, and settles me on his lap, facing away from him.
“Alaric?” I manage, my voice breathless, unsure if I’m trembling from anticipation or the aftershocks of everything we’ve endured.
“I’ve got you, Myrrin,” he murmurs, voice a promise etched in steel. “Iwill neverlet you fall. Just trust me.”
And I do trust him. Yes, I really do.
One powerful hand braces my hips as he guides me down onto him.
I cry out, a sharp, shocked sound as he fills me—deep and claiming with one hard thrust of his incredible hips.
My fingers scrabble for purchase on his thighs, and he holds me steady, groaning low and filthy against my back.
“Gods,” I breathe.
The stretch. The heat. The way he pushes inside me—it borders on unbearable.
And still, I want more.
Alaric thrusts up hard, and my head falls back with a gasp, pleasure crashing through me in waves.
Then his hand slides around my waist, fingers seeking the place that drives me wild. When he finds my clit, he doesn’t tease.
He plays me like an instrument he’s mastered a thousand times over.
“Look at you, Myrrin. Wrapped around me like you were forged to take me. Do you even realize how perfect you are?”
“Alaric, more,” I beg, and he never makes me wait.
He thrusts deeper, harder, making me see stars.
