Page 150 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
The naked need in his voice undid me.
Without breaking eye contact, I sucked on my fingers, coating them thoroughly with saliva until they were soaking wet. When he made asoft, needy sound, I pressed one finger against his entrance, watching his face in the golden torchlight.
Thud, thud, thud.
His heart beat a frantic pulse as his eyes fluttered closed, breath coming in heavy pants as I applied gentle pressure.
“Go on,” Maxwell whispered, voice barely audible above our ragged breathing.
I pressed forward, just the very tip of my finger breaching him. Maxwell’s mouth fell open with the softest whimper, a sound so beautiful I wanted to bottle it up forever. The blissed-out expression that crossed his features was poetry written in flesh and torchlight—lips parted, brow slightly furrowed in concentration, every line of tension melting from his face.
“Oh,” he said, bearing down against my finger, trying to take more. His hips shuffled down the sleeping bag, chasing the pressure.
“Easy,” I murmured, though my own voice was shaking. “Let me…”
I reached for my winter coat, bunching it up and sliding it beneath Maxwell’s lower back to lift his hips. The position opened him up beautifully, and I had to bite back a groan at the sight.
Claim, claim, claim.
Grabbing the lube, I squeezed what was probably a ridiculous amount onto my fingers. The cold gel made Maxwell shiver as I spread it around his entrance, working it in slowly with gentle circles.
When I properly pushed my finger inside, Maxwell’s back arched off the makeshift pillow, a broken moan spilling from his lips. I worked him carefully, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in, letting him adjust to the sensation.
Without breaking that careful pace, I lowered my mouth back to his cock, sealing my lips around the head and drawing gently. The dual assault made Maxwell surge up into my mouth, profanity spilling from his lips like a prayer.
The echo of his pleasure crashed through our connection, doubling my own arousal until I could barely think straight. Everything he feltrippled back to me—the stretch, the fullness, the maddening friction of my tongue.
“Give me another,” he panted.
I added a second finger alongside the first, working him open with patient strokes whilst my tongue traced patterns around his tip. When I found that spot inside him, Maxwell cried out so loudly I worried someone might hear us across the lake. His whole body went rigid, thighs quaking as they bracketed my head. Through the invisible thread, I felt his body’s response like it was my own—the gorgeous tension building in his muscles, the way his nerve endings sang every time I crooked my fingers just right.
“So good,” he gasped, then suddenly his hand was capturing mine, stilling my movements. “So bloody good, but… Rory, I need—”
His eyes flew open, wild and desperate in the torchlight, to find mine.
“Fuck me,” he said, voice cracking on the words. “Oh, please, fuck me, Rory.”
24
Theodore
“Maxwell…” Rory’s eyes, saucer-wide, stared deeply into mine.
I wasn’t quite sure where my sudden desperation to have him fuck me had come from.
Maybe it was the miracle of the Northern Lights dancing above us.
Maybe it was my shirt hanging off his slight frame, the way it transformed him into something stolen and precious. Somethingmine.
Okay, it was definitely the shirt.
I met Rory’s defiant stare with an equally determined one of my own. The challenge in those blue-green eyes only made me want him more.
He gently removed his fingers from me and I mourned the loss of them, my body clenching around nothing.
…Fucking hell, I want to fuck him so bad, bury myself inside him and claim him inside and out…
“I know you want to,” I growled at him.
