Page 34 of Ravens
The strap on my bra slips from my shoulder, and teeth pinch my skin as he undoes it and tosses it across the tent.
Knowing he wants me the way he just said scares the shit out of me but also turns me on, and I think that’s going to be a big problem. I want everything he said, but I know if I admit it . . .he’s going to think he owns me. Formally giving myself to a crazy person is a terrible idea.
He cups my breast and rubs himself against my ass until my breaths become ragged.
“I want you,” I say quietly and twist to nuzzle his cheek. “I’ve wanted you from the start, and I’m only fucking crazy because of you.”
“It should piss me off that you lie so much.” He presses into me, and I gasp before his hand comes over my mouth again. “I know you want me.” He thrusts, filling me, and my hand flies to his hip. “But we both know you were crazy before I got here.” He thrusts again, harder this time, and I grunt into his hand.
Forcing me to roll onto my stomach, he follows me over, pressing me down against the sleeping bag. His hand slips away from my mouth, replaced by the smoky sweater he stuffs under my face before he sits back on my legs and starts riding me. I bury my face into the sweater, biting it as he pulls my hips up and goes even harder.
I’ve never wanted to scream like this before. The way he has my legs pinned together . . . oh my god. A moan escapes into the sweater as I fist the sleeping bag.
The crackle of the nearby fire and soft conversation fill the tent between his quiet but labored breaths and the smell of campfire fills my head as ragged breaths struggle to fill my lungs against the sweater.
The growing tension makes me squirm and I pull at the sleeping bag, gasping as my body tightens like a bowstring. Adesperation to finish again makes me want to drive myself into him, to push his face between my legs, to climb on top of him . . . he slams into me roughly, obliterating the thought, and I gape silently into the sweater, my mouth working around a moan I don’t want to escape as I teeter up to the edge.
I cross my legs, chasing the extra friction, but it makes him slow, and I could cry. The faint sound of his heavy breaths grows closer until his mouth is on my back, teeth silently pulling at my skin. His chest presses me down, and I grab his head when his lips hit my neck, finally letting myself up for air in the dark.
“I’m—”
His hand falls over my mouth. My body tenses.
“York,” William calls from the fire. “Our watch.”
“Coming,” he calls back evenly, and then brings his mouth to my ear, whispering “You want to come too?” As his hand slides between me and the ground and presses against my clit.
The tension snaps, and I grind myself into his fingers, sucking air in and out of my nose as he growls softly and pumps his hips until his arms go rigid and he digs his teeth into my shoulder, stifling his groan.
My head falls when he lets go of my face to rise. With my hipsstill pinched between his knees, I listen to the rustle of his pants and the quick zip of his fly closing. The sweater is yanked out from under my face before teeth press sharply into my ass.
Hissing, I swat him and roll to my back, wrangling my own pants up and pulling the sleeping bag over my bare chest.
Less than a minute after he was called, he slips out of the tent wordlessly. The flap zips closed. I sit up and climb into one of the sleeping bags and then curl up, alone in the dark.
***
The sound of a zipper wakes me again, but the firelight has died down so much I can’t see anything. I feel the weight of his presence though, and the sound of another zipper and then another. A moment later, the zipper on my bag withdraws, and the weight and heat of his body settles behind me. Still topless, I shiver as he tucks his arm under my head and covers us both with the other unzipped bag.
I nestle into the smoky sweater under my cheek, and he pulls me against him, stroking the side of my breast as I drift back to sleep.
“Lightning doesn’t strike often,” he murmurs over my head. “You’re going to fall in love with me no matter how much you resist it.” His face presses into the top of my head, and he inhales me slowly. “I’ll be waiting when you do.”
Eighteen
It is a quiet, reflective morning for me as I stare up at the mesh roof of the tent.
Part of that is because I almost killed August last night, and this morning I realized I regret not doing it. The other part of it is that York is legitimately fucking nuts, and he’s right—I must be too. I’m not sure what makes him think so, but the fact that I keep sleeping with him is probably enough to determine it.
I know I’m going to keep doing it too. Accepting it makes me want it even more.
I’ll still put up a fight though.
“Let’s go, princess,” York’s rough voice calls out.
“Oh, I didn’t think we were calling August that openly,” I say sarcastically as I climb from the tent and let my eyes fall to August while I pull my coat on.
Carter laughs as he pours hot water into mugs, but York’s face is devoid of everything as he hands me a bag of steaming rations with a fork protruding from it.
