Page 59 of Aries

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, but there’s possessiveness in his deep tone, a claiming that makes my core clench with need. “Mine.”

“Yours,” I agree, reaching for him, but he catches my hands again.

“Not yet.” His voice holds command that shoots desire straight to my core. “I want to look at you. All of you. Spread your thighs for me, Callie. Let me see what’s mine.”

The order echoes our storm-night confessions, and I comply eagerly, watching his nostrils flare as I reveal myself to his hungry gaze. The way he’s looking at me—like I’m a feast he’s been starving for—makes me feel powerful and desired in ways I never imagined.

“Perfect,” he breathes, his hands skimming up my calves, my thighs, everywhere except where I need him most. “Do you know how many times I’ve recalled this exact view? How many nights I lay awake thinking about tasting you properly?”

“Stop teasing,” I demand, my hips lifting toward his hands. I’m so desperate it’s a wonder I can string two words together.

“So impatient,” he chuckles, but his face holds no levity. His expression reminds me of a predatory animal. “I like you desperate for me.”

His mouth traces a maddeningly slow path up my inner thigh, his breath hot against my skin. When his tongue finally swipes across my most sensitive flesh, I cry out, my hands fisting in the bedsheets.

But this isn’t the careful, reverent exploration like it was in our cottage. This is possessive, demanding—his tongue and lips working me with single-minded focus, driving me toward the edge with ruthless precision. When I’m trembling on the brink, he pulls back with a wicked grin.

“Not yet,” he growls when I whimper in protest. “I want you wild first. Completely undone.”

“I am, Aries,” I plead. “I’m desperate.”

He just smiles, a feral grin, and his fingers replace his mouth, sliding inside me as his thumb finds that bundle of nerves that makes me see stars. But it’s when his other hand reaches up to my breast, when those careful fingertips suddenly pinch my nipple with just enough force to blur pleasure and pain, that I truly fall apart.

“That’s it,” he encourages roughly, his fingers working magic inside me. “Let go for me, sweet Callie. Show me exactly how desperate you are.”

I shatter with a scream that echoes through our quarters, my body convulsing around his fingers as ecstasy crashesthrough me. But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t give me time to recover—instead, he moves up my body like a lion claiming what’s his.

“My turn,” he growls, and suddenly our positions are reversed. He’s on his back, hands gripping my hips as I straddle him, his cock hard and ready beneath me.

“Ride me,” he commands, his voice rough with need. “I want to watch you take what you want.”

The position gives me power, and I use it ruthlessly. I sink down onto him slowly, watching his face contort with pleasure as my body adjusts to his unique anatomy. Those ridges along his shaft feel even more pronounced now, creating friction that has us both groaning.

“Faster,” he urges, his hands guiding my movements. “I want to feel you lose control.”

I establish a rhythm that’s anything but gentle—rising and falling with increasing intensity, using the angle of my hands on his shoulders to allow me to take him deeper than before. His alien anatomy responds to my movements, the ridges swelling and pulsing in ways that drive me wild.

“Your horns,” I gasp, remembering his confession about their sensitivity. “Can I…?”

“Yes,” he growls, understanding immediately. “Touch them. Hold on to them.”

My hands find the curved bones, gripping them as I increase my pace. The contact sends shockwaves through him—his back arches, a sound escaping him that’s purely alien harmonics that seem to resonate in my bones.

“Callie,” he groans, his control finally starting to crack. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Good,” I pant, using his horns for leverage as I ride him harder. “I want you completelycrazed.”

But he’s not ready to surrender control entirely. With a move that showcases his gladiator strength, he flips us again, pinning me beneath him with a speed that steals my breath.

“My turn,” he rasps, settling between my thighs. “Hold on.”

What follows is nothing like the tender way he’s always treated me. This is raw, primal—his hips snapping against mine with increasing force, each thrust driving deeper than the last. The ridges along his shaft create sensations that border on overwhelming, and when he adjusts the angle to hit that spot inside me that makes me see stars, I nearly scream.

“That’s it,” he encourages roughly, one hand gripping my hip, the other braced beside my head. “Take all of me. Everyince.”

His pace becomes punishing, desperate, and I meet him thrust for thrust, my nails scoring his back as pleasure builds to impossible heights. When he leans down to capture my mouth in a kiss that’s more devouring than tender, I taste myself on his lips and nearly come undone.

“I can feel you getting close,” he growls against my lips. “Come for me, Callie. Come on my cock like you’ve been dreaming about.”

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