Page 95 of Crown of Roses
But the need between her legs was unbearable. The most basic part of her, the wanton desire, overwhelmed her, left her trembling. She snared Rowan’s hand, guided it to her stomach, and lower still. His fingers played across her skin, rubbing, and taunting the bundle of nerves that so desperately sought release.
He chuckled softly, and a rumble in his chest resonated all the way down her spine. “Do you want something?”
“Yes,” Maeve gasped, and writhed in his hold. She wanted him. All of him. She wriggled her butt against his erection, urging herself closer, wanting to feel every thickened inch of him. Rowan groaned. Chills broke out over her flesh and her nipples hardened, turning to pink peaks.
“You will be the death of me.” He ground the words out, then sank two fingers deep into her core.
Maeve bucked, but Rowan held her in place against him. It was like the reprieve she didn’t know she needed. His sure fingers glided in and out of her, over and over, pumping, pleasuring, until she thrashed in his arms. All the while, his thumb toyed with the bundle of nerves begging for attention.
“Rowan!” His name exploded from her like a whisper. An anguished prayer.
“Tell me what you want, Princess.” He peppered kisses along her jaw and neck.
“You.” The word tore from her lips. “I want you.”
“Then it’s me you shall have.” He slipped his fingers out of her, scooped her into his arms, and carried her out of the faerie pool.
She was grateful for him, for the pure and raw strength of him. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk. Her legs were like sand, soft and pliable. And her body, every part of her wanted to be marked by his lips. With every touch, every taste, every lick, she wanted to scream his name until her voice was lost to the wilds.
Rowan laid her down on the ground, beneath the shadow of the tree. There, the grass flattened for her, and the flowers laid down their petals like a bed of velvet. He hovered above her, his hands planted on either side of her head. She reached for him, tangled her fingers in his damp hair, and pulled his mouth to hers.
He tasted like dreams and darkness. Like magic and fate.
He broke their kiss with haste, leaned down, and sucked her breast into the hot confines of his mouth.
A cry broke from somewhere deep inside her as his tongue swirled over her nipple. Maeve arched up, and she dragged her nails over his shoulders, down his corded biceps, where she held onto him. Her hands sought purchase on any part of him that would keep her grounded, that would keep her from toppling over the edge before he even slid inside of her. His tongue left a trail of liquid heat between the valley of her breasts up to her neck, and this time, he settled himself between her legs. The head of his cock nudged the wetness pooling at her center, and every fold, every nerve, throbbed for him.
“Shit.” Rowan dropped low, pressed his forehead to hers. “This is your first time.”
It wasn’t a question. They both knew the answer already. He’d learned of her innocence in the library. But she nodded anyway, breathless, then squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for what was about to happen.
He wiped her damp hair back, smoothed it from her face. His words were a gentle caress across her cheek. “I can’t.”
Her eyes flew open. “What?”
Rowan shook his head and droplets of water rained down upon her. “You’re pure. And perfect. And…”
The pause was heavy, full of whatever he didn’t want to say. Whatever he wasn’t willing to tell her.
Maeve propped herself onto her elbows and he lifted himself off her. “So, after all that build up, you’re just going to leave me unfulfilled.”
He groaned and nudged the hardened length of him in between her legs. “You’re not the only one.”
“But I’m ready, believe me, I’ve been ready.” She rolled her eyes to where the sky was bleeding into dusk, filling the sky with shades of amber and navy blue. “My fingers only take me so far, Rowan.”
The sound that peeled from his lips was feral.
“I want to, believe me, I want to take you. I want to pump myself into you over and over, until my seed is spilling down your thighs. Until you scream my name so even the gods and goddesses are raging with jealousy.” He kissed her cheek. Her nose. Her temple. Her jaw. “But I can’t. I simply can’t.”
“Fine.” Fresh annoyance fired through her, and she flopped back down onto the soft bed of grass and rolled over, away from him.
“What are these little scars here on your back? The ones that look like crescent moons?”
Of course he would change the subject, how typically male. Then she shivered, and he pulled her close to him, keeping her backside flush against his rock-hard abdomen. It took every ounce of effort not to grind her ass against his cock that was so cozily nestled against her.
“I’m not sure.” Maeve snuggled closer, relishing in the rise and fall of his chest, in the warmth he offered. “I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. I think Casimir mentioned an accident of some sort. Something that happened to me when I was younger.”
She couldn’t really recall and she supposed it didn’t really matter. At least, not anymore.
