Page 66 of Raziel
“I can’t… I can’t take anymore—”
“You can,” I said, leaving no room for argument. My kiss landed on her chest, right over her frantically beating heart. “You always give me more than you think you have. That’s what makes you mine.”
She let out a shattered sound. Her mind was fighting a losing war against her body, which knew its master. Her legs fell open wider in silent surrender. Her hips lifted in a small, involuntary, needy arch.
“Così,” I murmured against her feverish skin. “That’s my good girl. Look at you. Bella. Taking all of me, even when you’re broken for it.”
A sob tore from her as another climax seized her. Her inner walls clenched, fluttering around me like a desperate,rhythmic plea, trying to pull the very regret from my soul. Her nails scored down my back, claiming me in return. Her thighs locked around my hips, holding me inside.
“That’s nine,” I rasped, voice thick with possessive pride. “You still angry with me, Maya?”
Her lashes were wet.
“Go to hell.”
A dark, satisfied grin touched my mouth.
“I’m already there, angel. It’s wherever you’re not.”
She slapped my chest—a weak, spent gesture. I caught her wrist and brought it to my lips, kissing the frantic pulse point.
“I never intended to be a man who deserved it,” I said, forehead resting against hers, our breaths mingling. “But I am. And I will. On my life, I swear it.”
That broke her.
Soft, wet, sweet surrender.
Her mouth met mine in a kiss that tasted of forgiveness and salt and a future I would kill to protect. I held her tighter, buried myself to the hilt, and she whimpered—a sound I swallowed whole.
“You’re perfect,” I murmured into her mouth. “Perfect in your rage. Perfect in your pleasure.”
In one fluid motion, I flipped her onto her stomach. She gasped—too pliant, too ruined to resist. I kissed the line of her spine, her shoulders, every invisible scar my temper had left. My hand slid between her slick thighs.
She moaned—a sound of pure, defeated ecstasy.
“Raziel—”
“I know. One more. Give me one more.”
“You’re a liar,” she whined, voice muffled by the pillow.
I chuckled. “I am.”
She trembled—a full-body shudder. Like she’d lost power to her limbs. Like her bones were trying to leave her.
I pushed into her again, slowly. My hands anchored on her hips, my body caging hers. I bent low, let my mouth write scripture across her shoulder blades and vertebrae like Braille.
“You are everything,” I vowed, the words leaving my soul. “Do you hear me?”
Her fingers groped behind her, searching for mine. I laced them together, squeezing hard.
“Say it again,” she begged, voice cracking, her face pressed into the mattress.
“You are my empire,” I said, each word a sacred vow. “My most valuable territory. The only fight worth winning. The reason my heart still beats.”
She cried out—a raw, guttural sound—as the tenth orgasm tore through her, violent and helpless and utterly mine.
I followed her over that edge, my body collapsing over hers like a final, devout prayer.
