Page 43 of Immortal Sins
He grazes the hot flesh between my thighs. The slickness he finds there drives me wild, and he gives a snarl that’s more beast than man. Flames dance below the skin of my hips and thighs, my core throbbing harder with each breath.
I feel lightheaded and exposed, but Cole’s kiss tethers me to this moment. My body doesn’t mind our phantasm audience, and the more I think about them watching us, the more aroused I become. It’s kinky and wild, but I’m way more into it than I thought I’d be.
Wings flicker at Cole’s back. Wisps of black and blue Fae magic ripple along the sinews of his arms. Red flecks burn in his savage amber stare, his full Fae form unleashed, reminding me of that day in the Duel ring when I knocked us both unconscious. Purple and orange sparks rise from my skin and join the fray.
Little bits of my soul seem to rise along with them.
I curse under my breath when he bites and licks my hard nipples, teasing them in turn, the ache impossible to soothe.
My brain goes blank, and my heart thuds harder than the magic spicing up the air. My dark prince never breaks eye contact as he buries his dripping cock all the way inside me, so deep my toes curl and my breath vanishes.
A hot pocket of air glides along my shoulders, and I draw in a sharp inhale. Cole builds to a slow grind, the rush so sweet and heady that I cry out. The stone below me presses on my ass—invisible wraith hands rise from the altar to hold me snug and steady, ripe for the picking.
The primeval ritual disjoints a burrowed piece inside me and tugs and twists at it until I’m panting. I feel…pulverized. Different.
This is dark Fae magic, to be sure. Nothing in my realm ever releases so much fury and bliss. So much sin. The link between our bodies, like everything else about my prince, is addictive and devious.
Even in marriage, he corrupts me.
Cole increases his rhythm. The snaps of his hips both give and steal from me, and I arch my back, nails embedded in his shoulder blades.
A pair of ghostly lips graze my shoulder.
I give in to the desire they incite in me, welcoming their touch.
Pleasure scratches at the seams of my body, threatening to tear me apart. Not an orgasm—but a slow, delicious death. The end of my old life.
The spirits’ hands pinch the flesh of my ass and breasts, emboldened by my surrender. My mouth opens in shock, and my vision blurs. My walls pulse, over and over again, the endless abyss of lust created by the spell never stopping my fall.
Heated groans resonate through the ether. The ghosts rob fragments of my release, their intrusion meant to alleviate the emptiness of eternity. Their greedy, elusive touches leave me outside myself, basking in the remnants of previous weddings celebrated on this altar of wicked passion and everlasting commitment.
Cole barely holds in a scream as he fills me with his release. The ecstasy in the pinch of his lips and the strain of his abs clue me in that this is new to him, too. He’s not in control.
We both need a minute—or two—for the aftermath of pleasure to soothe the fire. We catch our breaths, half-sprawled over the obsidian stone, my elbows propped up behind me and my legs dangling from the edge. Cole holds part of his weight with his arms to spare me.
The spirits retreat to the shadows, sated by our performance. I can almost hear their satisfied commentary rustling down the earthy confines of the chapel.
I bring a shaky hand to my brow. “That was…something else,” I croak, somehow already missing the fullness of Cole inside me.
I wiggle to stand, but he kisses me hard.
He pins me in place with his hip. “Don’t you dare. I finally have you all to myself.”
I do not care for words anymore, and neither does he. I need more. We’re breaking all the rules doing this. Writing history. The spell might be over, but my hunger for him, his body, and his world, has only just begun.
18
CANNOT BE UNDONE
Istir awake at the sound of sheets ruffling. My head pounds. A painfully delicious sting burns my abs and legs—and the space between my thighs. We forgot to close the blinds last night, and the early morning light hurts my eyes. Whispers skitter around the large bedroom, and I glimpse at the door where Cole—a very naked Cole—chats with Mary. Our gazes meet across the room. He returns quickly to my side and envelops me in a warm, dizzying embrace.
I rest my head on the fresh silk of the pillow. “Can we stay here?”
“I have a deal to honor,” he grumbles behind my ear.
Right.He needs to take me to his mother. The thought ruins my lazy mood and sparks an icy flare along my neck.
Cole places a small golden box on the pillow.
