Page 69 of King of Ashes
I surrender, so he gives me something, anything, before I combust.
He lifts the hem of my dress, exposing my drenched thong, a low groan vibrating in his throat.
I slap my palm on his shoulder to support myself during the ongoing wild ride.
He slides two fingers over the fabric before he brings them to his nose, inhaling my aroma. Good god, it makes me even hotter. It wouldn’t surprise me if I liquefy into magma. His pupils blow as if my scent drugs him, the vein in his neck throbbing just like my insides.
He gets on his knees and pulls my leg over his shoulder, never losing eye contact, but taking his sweet time. This man is intent on driving me wild.
“You’re cruel,” I whine.
In one instant, he rips the thong off me, discarding the shredded fabric on the floor.
“This is a prelude. In case you haven’t noticed, I always give in for you, too desperate for you.”
My mouth dries with sheer lust. “Does it mean you’ll fuck me?”
“It means I’ll take you to bed. When you wake up, you can decide.”
If I didn’t know he wants me just as badly, I would think he is postponing sex deliberately. “You’ll leave me like this?” I pant, my need overpowering me.
“Fuck, baby, don’t look at me like that. I am trying to do the right thing,” he says, sounding unsure.
“I just saw you cut someone’s dick off and make him eat it.”
A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, but I am on a rant. “If you leave me like this, I will never forgive you.” I might sound dramatic, but this man never ceases to unravel me.
He shuts his eyes for a moment before saying, “Fuck it.”
Then he buries his face between my folds and tongue and finger fucks me, devouring me with insatiable hunger.
“You taste so fucking good,” he groans in the back of his throat, revealing his gusto while I shamelessly moan, delightful sensation traveling up my core. Damn this man and his wicked tongue and skilled fingers turning my legs into Jello.
If I stretched out my hand, I could touch the sky. He makes me high on him, addicted to the pleasure he offers me. God, it’s like he knows exactly what to do so I break apart for him as if my body’s reactions guide him, applying just the perfect pressure and speed, leisurely ravishing me.
He doesn’t stop, bringing me higher and higher while my breath hitches and my body tightens, awaiting the blissful promised release.
I crash straight through rapture’s door where he waits to catch me.
In the wake of a shattering orgasm, the only things that keep me upright are the railing and his palms on my thighs, and it takes me long moments to catch my breath.
“You look drunk,” he says, sounding awed.
“On you…” I throw myself into his arms. “I don’t think I can walk straight.”
He chuckles, some levity returning.
“I love that you want my consent, but I am well aware of what I’m asking.” Something pushes me to dig deeper. “Tell me what’s truly holding you back.”
His eyes swim with hurt, shattering me. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret it.”
“Why would I?” I ask, dumbfounded.
Since the moment we married, everything has improved. For the first time in a long time, I feel something real, something I can hold on to. After years of wandering in pitch darkness, he lit a path for me back to the living.
I stepped into it, embracing my second chance, even if I didn’t know it.
There is something more, but he shuts off completely and gathers me in his arms, carrying me inside to the bedroom. At the foot of the bed, he sets me gently down. I slip out of my clothes, stretch out my arms, and fall… fall… fall… fall.
