Page 110 of A Promise of Peridot
When I peered up, Arwen’s eyes were screwed shut, her chest heaving with uneven breaths, her hands fisted, one in the sheets and one in my hair. When I swirled my tongue against her, she let out a low hiss.
“Open your eyes,” I murmured to her.
She sat up on her elbows, pupils huge and dark, breath panting out of her.
“Look what you’re doing to me.” I reached into my breaches to grip my cock, swollen and heavy, before licking long and slow up her center.
“Oh, Stones,” she hummed, throwing her head back, and I grasped myself harder at the sound of her voice.
When I sucked on the little bud, she cried out and squirmed almost violently. Letting go of my shaft, I ran my finger once more through her wetness before pushing inside. Pumping until my hand was drenched.
“More?” The grit in my voice made me sound like I had been choked.
“Kane, please.”
I drove another digit inside, giving her time to stretch and pitch around the intrusion, stroking my fingers in and out, cupping them up toward her innermost wall. She writhed and keened against my mouth and fingers until I was forced to hold her down against the bed.
More suction, more pressure until—
Tensing, she cried out as she reached her peak. I thrust into her over and over and over, holding her open and sucking and licking through each pulse and contraction.
Once she was shivering with aftershocks, I stood from the bed to find the lace undergarment I had tossed away in my lust-addled fervor. “Here,” I said, voice gravelly even to my own ears. “Sorry I ripped them. I’ll buy you a hundred more.”
She assessed me, limp and dazed. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” I could barely think past the pulsing, thrumming, liquid-hot need in my groin. It was impressive, frankly, that I was still standing upright.
She sat up, hair tangled like I had never seen it, before her bright, playful eyes fell to my tented breeches. “I think it’s your turn.”
My cock was harder than it had been in nearly two hundred years of living. My balls aching and heavy, and the woman I would kill for, would die for, was offering to make me come.
And I was the half-wit who said, “Don’t worry about me.”
I really did need my head looked at.
“Why not?”
“Let’s call it an abundance of caution. Otherwise, trust me, I’d beg you for it.”
She frowned, sleepy and satiated, and my heart cracked open. “King Kane Ravenwood, begging me to touch him. That’s a sight I’d love to see.”
She really didn’t get it. I was moments away from getting to my knees and begging her to touch me every minute of every hour of every damn day.
She might have said more, but a yawn overtook her.
And I—I was learning a new, painful lesson. Not too old, then, I guessed, for that.
I wasn’t as strong as I had once thought. Or, I just wasn’t strong enough. To have her, but nothaveher. Not wholly. Or perhaps I was just too selfish. I wanted her too much.
Still, that knowledge didn’t stop me from climbing into the bed and smelling her sweet, honeysuckle hair as she tangled into me. Listening to her breathing become relaxed and steady, her headtucked underneath my chin, her heart beating in time on top of mine.
I had been right—I wouldn’t sleep tonight.
I wasn’t going to miss a single second of what it felt like to hold Arwen in my arms.
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