Page 65 of Bonded By Stone & Blood

"Let go."

A beat of silence. His gold eyes find mine in the dark, searching, and I hold his gaze and push against his chest, and he loosens his talons from my hips.

I brace both palms flat against his chest and push myself upright.

The shift in position drives him into me at a completely new angle and we both go still and breathless for a full second, reacquainting ourselves with what that feels like. From up here, seated fully in his lap with gravity doing merciless, unhurried work, I feel every single inch of his cock in a way that his hips against mine never quite allowed. The broad head of him pressed flush against the deepest point of me. The thick,throbbing length of his shaft stretching me open all the way down to the base.

"Oh," I say, brilliantly.

His wings beat once, twice to keep us perfectly suspended mid-air and then he tilts his chin up at me with his molten eyes.

"Well," he says roughly. "Go on then."

I rise up on my knees and sink back down.

Repeat the movement. Slower this time, savoring the full, obscene stretch of him entering me inch by inch, bottoming out with a grind of my hips that presses him so deep I feel the pressure behind my navel. He is enormous and I take all of him and the knowledge sends a rush of heat through me so intense my vision blurs.

I find my rhythm.

It starts slow and deliberate, long, rolling lifts and drops, using his full length on every stroke. His wings beat in slow, steady counterpoint below us, keeping us airborne while I work myself on his cock with increasing urgency, chasing the pressure building at the base of my spine.

"Sabine." His voice is strained. His hands hover at my hips, restraining himself from taking over with what appears to be significant effort.

"Don't you dare." I say breathlessly.

He exhales through his teeth.

I roll my hips forward on the next downstroke and grind against the base of him and his whole body shudders beneath me, the wings stuttering for just a moment before he corrects. I do it again. Watching his jaw go tight. Watching the muscle in his throat work.

I brace my palms harder against his chest and ride him properly.

I chase that angle until my thighs are burning and my hips are rolling in desperate, grinding circles, and then his patience finally, completely dissolves.

His hands lock onto my hips. He drives upward to meet my downstroke and the collision of him slamming into the deepest part of me pulls a cry from my throat.

He does it again. And again. Driving up into me with those powerful, precise thrusts while I ride down to meet him, until we are moving together in frantic and graceless motion.

Then, the pleasure building inside me crests and I clench around him so tightly he snarls against my shoulder.

The orgasm tears through me in long, shuddering waves that leave me limp and breathless in his arms, still suspended in midair, still full of him, still trembling.

Tovian does not stop.

He holds me upright with his talons and works his hips through every aftershock until I am whimpering with the oversensitivity of it, until my second release builds faster than the first, smaller and sharper and somehow more devastating, and only then does he finally let go of all restraints.

His release surges deep and thick and consuming, flooding me in a hot, endless rush, filling me so completely full that I feel his warmth everywhere, every pulse and wave of it rolling through me until I am soft and wrecked and utterly undone.

We sink back into the furs in a slow, wing-wrapped descent, and he folds around me like a fortress made of stone and warmth. And I lie there with my eyes closed and my lungs trying to remember their purpose.

Eventually, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling.

"That's it?" I say.

Tovian's hips nudge deliberately forward—still buried inside me, still thick, still devastatingly present.

The air leaves my lungs in a single helpless gasp.

"We have not even started.” His voice a dark and devastating rumble against my ear.