Page 83 of The Second Death of Locke
“Please,” she said, pulling him down so she could kiss him on themouth. “Do not bring Ola into this.”
He laughed, warm and clear, then moved one hand toward the waist of her shorts. “May I?”
“Please.”
He slipped his thumbs under the edge, then pulled them down, his hands skimming over her legs. His palms rested on her thighs for half a second before he pulled her legs apart.
“Kier—” She reached for him, but then he dropped to his knees and pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. She gasped, tangling her hand in his hair.
“I used to dream about this,” he murmured against her skin, hitching her thighs over his shoulders.
“Used to?” she forced herself to ask as he ran a hand from knee to hip. It was not worth telling him that she had imagined it too—her shyness was still cloying, even though she read the desire in his eyes when he looked at her. But it was hard for her to believe that he’d spent years sleeping by her side, orbiting her, thinking of her in this way, evendreamingof her, and nothing between them had changed until now.
“Mm. In my younger years, when I thought I could imagine the taste of you.”
Grey blushed, shy despite herself. She had never really spoken with past bedmates—it had been about relief, a mutually assured satisfaction, rather than genuine love or affection. Certainly, none of them had cared for her—not like this. “How long?”
He skimmed his nose over her skin, sighing against it. “Oh, just the better part of a decade.”
What absolute fools they were. All that time, and they could have been doingthis.
She sucked in a breath as he kissed and bit his way between her legs, her head falling back when he put his mouth on her.
“How does it compare?” she barely managed to ask through the quiet supernova that erupted in her brain. It felt—it felt like magic, like power; it felt better than the swelling of heat when she found the power tethered around her and pulled.
Kier pulled back to kiss her hip. “Infinitely better in real life.”
It was just— He ducked his head back down, his hands on her hips, reacting to every gasp and breath. He was so confident, so sure of himself. He’d never been with her, but heknewher, knew her better than she knew herself. When he moved, it was exactly the right move at exactly the right time, like all of his imaginings of his mouth and hands on her body had perfectly prepared him to bring her as much pleasure as possible. Grey was caught in the tide of it, the grip of his hands and the soft murmur of his voice, his praise as she wound tighter and tighter under his touch. She felt the pleasure mounting, growing within her, the precipice looming; then he did something clever with his tongue and she came against him, tugging on his hair, his grip on her hips never easing.
It was just— He rose back up her body with steely determination, and she realized he still had trousers on—acrime, truly—and when she went to touch him, he saidpleasein such a beautiful voice, but she pushed him away and moved to stand. She made short work of his clothes and pressed him into the chair he’d been sitting in earlier, his gaze on her molten hot as he watched her stand above him. For all of Kier’s supposed fantasizing, she’d thought ofthis, too: taking him over, watching his hazel eyes go liquid and warm, waiting for her to possess him with a breath-catching stillness.
She moved to straddle him, her knees framing his hips. His eyes flicked shut as she stroked him, memorizing the velvety smoothness of his skin, the heat of him.
“Please,” he murmured again, his eyes nearly black when he opened them to gaze up at her.
It was just— When she shifted forward, positioned him with one hand while the other rested on his shoulder, when she sank down on him and he moved inside of her, it was as if the tether between them tightened, redoubled, exploded into something shivering and golden.
“Grey,” he sighed, her name the softest of exhalations. She felt the power of her pushing through the tether without her direction. She felt both in control and wildly out of it; both filled to the brim and needing more of him, as much of him as she could take, as soon as possible.
She moved against his body, slowly at first, getting used to the feeling of him inside of her. He shifted his hands to her waist, his gaze never leaving her face, as if he’d never get enough of the sight of her.
Grey could barely think as he moved, pushing up from under her. She leaned down to kiss him, taking his lower lip between her teeth. His grip tightened on her, and she rolled her hips against him, setting a faster pace.
“You are everything I’ve ever wanted,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers.
She shifted, giving herself more space to move against him, and he buried his face in her neck and kissed the juncture of her neck and shoulder until even that wasn’t close enough. She ceded power, felt the echo of his magic as it fizzled against her skin. He moved his hands to her hips, pulling her up as he stood and pushed her back onto the windowsill, and she gasped at the change in angle as he paused and readjusted.
“Yes,” she moaned, biting his shoulder. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist as he reached with one hand between her thighs, drawing circles with his thumb. She felt the tether inside of her, consuming, burning her alive. “Kier, I need—”
“Let me,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair.
He increased his pressure until she had no thoughts; she was a creature of want and desire and nothing more. The wave crested, pulling her under, and she splintered apart with a half-sob against his shoulder. Kier made a low noise in his throat, breaking rhythm as he shattered inside of her.
She didn’t move. Shecouldn’tmove. His fingertips skimmed up and down along her back, their breathing uneven but matched as they came back into themselves.
She kissed him on the temple, desperately, raggedly. “Petition accepted,” she said into his damp hair.
“What?”
