Page 141 of A Promise of Peridot
Sadist... I loved it.
I bucked and keened and wrang myself out begging for more. His mouth. I needed his mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut as my hands twisted in the nearest pillow.
“Kane,” I pleaded. “Let me come.” I nearly ripped off a silk tassel.
“I can’t stop,” he purred between my legs. “I’m too greedy.”
I was beside myself with a need so indecent it was teetering on agony. “Please, please,” I whimpered.
“Fine, fine. No need to yell,” he drawled casually, his voice husky and low.
Relief flooded me.
Finally, finally,finally—
Kane lifted up to his knees and nudged inside.
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kane
I grasped Arwen’s slender hips, my thumbs nearly touching at her spine, and rocked into her. I could do this—take my time with her. Nice and slow and agonizing. Just a hair shy of painful.
Arwen bucked and rolled her hips, her slick core contracting. I ground my teeth with the force of keeping my cock in check. Her tense whimpers were so sweet. Desperate little sounds that brought me closer and closer to the edge.
But this time felt different than before. Different from the frenetic, frenzied declaration of love—that hurried, near-haphazard rush to join, to become one. And different, too, from Briar’s—that first real night together cautious and tangled in misunderstood feelings. Now there was... time. Time and promises and hope all unfurling generously between us.
“Harder,” she breathed. Then, a whimpered afterthought. “Please.”
There was nothing in this world, no torture, no suffering, thatcould keep me from obliging her request. I unleashed whatever part of myself I had just barely been succeeding in holding back and drove into her, over and over, mumbling howtightshe was, howperfectandwetandgood.
The moonlight fell in pale beams over the rumpled bedsheets, painting Arwen’s long, silky brown hair, her back, and the faded scars striped across it. My heart squeezed as we moved together.
I wanted to be closer to her.
Leaning forward, I pulled her up by her shoulders until she was kneeling between my legs, her back flush against my chest. Her scars pressed to my heart.
“I missed you,” I breathed against her ear, kissing her temple, her brow, wrapping my arms around her collarbone and stomach as I continued to thrust. We panted, messy, slick, and sweating. Arwen letting out one choked moan after another as my hands ran down her arms and thighs. Flushed and misted in sweat as we grasped and groped—her breasts bouncing with our rhythm. The sight was so erotic it was nearly excruciating. Some base, possessive, wholly male part of me wanted to come all over them.
She wasmine.
But there would be another time for that.
The thought that this wouldn’t be the last time I was with Arwen in this way was almost as euphoric as the sex itself.
At the sound of Arwen’s groans and the weight of the back of her head against my chest, I picked up the pace, bringing my hand down to the apex of her thighs and stroking her until she squirmed.
She clenched and shuddered with her release, sobbing as she arched against me. It was my name on her lips that pulled me over the edge with her. A savage combustion of pleasure, white-hot and pulsing through my entire body.
Arwen collapsed onto the bed beneath us and I lay down next to her, careful not to crush her under my weight, both of us winded as if we had been running for miles.
“Is it always like that?” Arwen rolled onto her back, eyes fluttering open to stare at the sheer canopy above us.
“It never has been for me.”
She raised a brow in silent question. “But you...”
“Have had a lot of meaningless, disconnected sex with a lot of women. None of whom I loved. None of whom wereyou.”
