Page 92 of Break Her Heart
I did. I always had. And I knew what he was really asking. He was asking if I saw him, if I stillwantedhim despite everything. This was him trusting me with what little was left of himself.
And yes, gods, I did. I loved him so much it made my chest ache, like there was too much feeling inside me to fit in one body.
“Yes, August,” I whispered.
He groaned, his mouth hovering near mine. “Always say my name like that.” He turned me around, his chest to my back, breath hot against my neck as he pushed my dress up with slow, deliberate hands. “Keep your hands on the wall.”
“Bossy,” I muttered, but obeyed.
“I need you like this,” he murmured against my ear.
When he entered me, it was rough, like it always was—but something in the rhythm slowed. Like he was trying to memorize me from the inside out.
His fingers tangled in mine, pinning them above my head as he thrust into me harder. “You feel that?” he rasped. “You’re wrapped around me like you were made for this.”
My legs trembled, but I didn’t fall. He held me up—steady, unyielding, like I was something precious he refused to let slip away. The strength in his arms, the warmth of his body against mine, made me want to burn the image of him into my memory forever. His scent, the sound of his breath, the way his voice turned rough when he was close—it was all him, and I wanted to drown in it.
I let my head fall back against his shoulder, feeling the brush of his jaw against my temple, gasping as pleasure sparked low and hot in my belly. I wanted him in every way a person could want another. His body. His heart. His soul. The realization only made my voice shake when I whispered, “Don’t stop.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he growled, and in that moment, it didn’t just sound like a promise—it sounded like forever.
His rhythm shifted, drawing out the tension that had been coiled in my belly. His hand slid down between my thighs, finding that aching spot that had been pulsing with need since the second he touched me. He circled it with his thumb, and I nearly cried out.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let go for me. I want to feel you unravel.”
My hands scrabbled against the stone wall, trying to hold on as the pressure inside me built to a breaking point. Every thrust hit the exact place I needed him, every grind of his hand sent sparks flooding through my veins. My legs started to shake.
I shattered around him, biting down on my bottom lip to muffle the cry, stars bursting behind my eyes as he held me steady through it.
But he wasn’t finished with me.
He scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing, carrying me to the bed. His mouth never left my skin, pressing, nipping, claiming as he lowered me onto the mattress. I was still catching my breath when he shifted my hips and threw one of my legs over his shoulder, the stretch making me gasp.
August leaned in, kissing me again—slow, bruising, and full of heat—and thrust into me in a way that made my spine arch and my fingers claw the sheets.
“Look at me,” he growled.
I did. And gods, the way he looked at me—like I was his world. Like he couldn’t get enough. It was the kind of look I knew I’d carry with me for the rest of my life.
He kissed me again, deeper this time, and as my lips parted for him, he bit down. Hard. Not cruel, but claiming. Sharp enough that I tasted blood. A low groan tore from his chest, and he sucked the blood from my lip, slow and savoring, like it was the finest thing he’d ever tasted.
He gripped my hips tighter, pulling me flush against him, and began to thrust again. The sounds of our bodies filled the room, and the burn in his eyes never left mine.
My breath hitched with every thrust, pleasure twisting through me again, raw and sharp and overwhelming. He kissed me again, swallowing my moans, then broke the kiss to murmur, “Let go for me again.”
I shook my head, trembling.
His mouth brushed my ear. “Come on, baby, you can do it.”
The words shattered what was left of my restraint. I broke with a helpless cry, the world going bright and breathless. His pace quickened, body taut with restraint that was quickly unraveling. I arched into him, fingers digging into his back. Then with one final thrust, he buried himself deep, groaning against my throat as he spilled inside me, shaking with the force of it.
* * *
The music pulsed around me, wild and untamed. Drums pounded like a heartbeat, and violins shrieked with a tempo that made the air itself vibrate. My dress shimmered beneath the candlelight, the hem brushing my ankles as I twirled, caught up in the frenzy of sound and movement. Laughter and shouts rose from the dancers around us, all swept into the chaotic rhythm of the night, bodies moving fast and fearless.
I looked up toward the stage where our thrones sat—where August always watched me. But tonight, it was empty.
Because he was here.
