Page 64 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

Janelle sensed the shift in the air between them. It was apparent in how his touch was more confident, less tentative. Each gentle caress against her skin left trails that shot spirals of heat between her legs. Janelle twisted to look at him even as his finger continued swirling on the scars. She watched as his lips parted, as his chest rose and fell with the subtle uptick of his breathing. As much as she’d doubted herself, forever it seemed, she had no doubts about how much Elijah wanted her.

Elijah’s hand traveled over her flesh, stopping briefly at the edge of the towel. She arched her back in an invitation, and a shiver of pleasure rolled through her as he slipped the fabric away. He tugged her shoulder, pulled her down next to him, and she went willingly. Janelle held his gaze for a second before his eyes fell to her collarbone, then the swell of her breast. Oh, the heat. The beautiful heat of his stare wasn’t lost on her. She was drowning in it.

The towel had only fallen a little. There was still a hint of modesty, although Janelle knew the sight she made before him was nothing short of obscene. The edge of the towel was held up only where it caught on her nipples, and at some point, her thighs had parted with need. She could hear her own heavy breath echo in the room.

She felt debauched, never wanting it to end.

Elijah’s eyes, darkened with lust, devoured the sight of her like a starving man gazing at his last meal before he dove in.

With a slow, graceful stretch of his body, he moved over her. He could reach every part of her body, and some she wanted touched more than others. Some she wanted so badly she could taste it. Elijah moved again, burying his face in the crook of her neck, pressing his lips against the tender flesh below her ear. He trailed the kisses down her throat, moaning in appreciation as he let his hand drag from her collarbone to her shoulder and back. His teeth scraped every inch of her along the way.

That was it, the contact that broke through their walls. Their touch before had been sensual, undoubtedly, but with plausible deniability. Had one rebuffed the other, they could have spent the rest of their lives pretending nothing had happened.

But now Elijah kissed her neck, tugging at the flesh with his teeth, nothing gentle, nothing sweet. The heat coursed through her, made her want, and Janelle brought her legs up to wrap around his hips and pull him closer. They’d been on the edge of a cliff together, swaying in the wind, and now they were tumbling off it, hand in hand.

“Elijah,” she breathed as his hands explored her body, “you know that if Kieran finds out another man has touched me, he’ll kill us both, right?”

It was her last, lingering doubt. She needed to say the words aloud, or she would never be able to truly let herself go. She needed to hear his acknowledgment.

But he froze. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and that savage anger he usually kept so tightly chained lit him up. The sight of it made Janelle gasp, and she could feel her arousal growing stronger underneath that gaze.

“If Kieran ever touches what’s mine again,” he said through his teeth, “What I do to him will be so brutal he’ll beg me to kill him before I’m finished.” His voice was a low growl as he spoke. He reached up with one hand to stroke a thumb over her cheek. Even as his hands trembled with contained anger, his touch was gentle, and she pushed her face into his touch greedily.

Then his fingers trailed down. He wrapped them around the column of her throat, so slowly she felt his touch burn through her.

Elijah squeezed. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt her or constrict her breath, just a possessive gesture. Just enough to make her feel taken in his hand. His eyes bore into her, and that was worth risking any punishment Kieran might conceive.

Janelle wanted Elijah to own her. She belonged to him then, and she loved it. She still had her pride, and no man would ever control her life as Kieran had again; but right there, at that moment . . .

“You’re mine,” he growled again. And it was true to the fibers of her being, to the core of her very life force.

“I’m yours.”

The words escaped her like a sigh, long and drawn, a scream and a whisper. Squeezing her thighs tighter around his hips, she could feel Elijah’s hard length, covered only in the flimsy towel, pressing against where she was throbbing and wet for him.

“Please, Elijah,” she breathed. “I want you to fuck me until we’re nothing but each other’s only desires and needs.” Janelle steadied her breath. “Because I’ve not stopped thinking about this moment since our eyes met for the first time in your hallway the night I tried to kill you.”

She saw every fleck of color in his eyes that night when he had subdued her. That memory would never leave her.

The noise Elijah made in response was something feral. He grabbed her roughly, his hands everywhere at once, pulling the towels off them both and closing the last remaining inches of space between their bodies. His hips rolled into her, making the hot, hard shaft of his cock rub over the most sensitive part of her body.

Janelle gasped at the sensation. She’d never suffered such exquisite torture, never been so consumed. Elijah’s mouth brushed against her neck, where he had just laid a path of gentle kisses, and bit down. Hard.

The pain of the bite, along with the pleasure of him rubbing against the delicate bundle of nerves between her legs, made Janelle feel as if someone had set her body on fire. She moaned deliciously, her body melting into his touch. She turned soft, writhing, and the pleasure threatened to tear her into pieces. Only he held her together with his large, firm hands where they gripped her.

Elijah reached between their bodies to wrap one of those hands around his cock. For a second, she watched him. He stroked once, twice, slowly, the same way he touched her, and he used her wetness, slick and hot. His cock glistened, and she wanted him inside her more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life. She tilted her hips, pushing against him as he glided over her effortlessly and positioned himself at her entrance.

Janelle arched her back, desperate for Elijah to fill her, but as soon as he pressed the very tip of his cock into her, he paused.

The hand holding his length moved to grip her hip fiercely while his other traveled up her body. He ran his fingers through her hair, taking hold, tugging, so a sharp pain stung her scalp.

Janelle was pinned between the two points, held utterly in the position he desired.

What would have been her worst nightmare on the battlefield was now her greatest desire, under her lover’s hands. Her eyelids nearly fluttered shut, but she kept them open, not wanting to miss a single moment of what was happening.

Leaning down until their faces were close, Elijah’s lips grazed hers as he spoke.

“I’m going to make you come so hard you scream for me, little elf.” He punctuated this by nipping at her bottom lip. In one hard, firm stroke, he thrust and tore through the barrier and settled inside her. The entanglement of their bodies was complete.

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