Page 195 of Vasmora

“I want more.” I moaned, clenching around his fingers. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

“So greedy. Are my fingers not enough?”

I shook my head and arched again. “More. Please.”

He dragged my hand behind my back, wrapping it around his stiff length. “This is what you want?”

At my nod, he rested his forehead against my shoulder and groaned as I stroked him. “You’re making this harder than I imagined.”

“Quite hard, in fact.”

Fingers plunged into me again, and I moaned, squeezing his shaft.

“Enough.” He lifted us out of the water and set me down on the ledge, keeping me turned away from him. Lips found my shoulder. Hands gripped my waist. His body swallowed mine as he bent over me, sending me forward until my breasts pressed against the cold stones at the edge of the bath. He gathered the towels beneath me, the soft fabric tickling my skin. Once again, his finger found my wet seam, and he slid it up and down as his tip prodded my entrance. “This is what you do to me, moon witch.” A determined thrust seated him inside, and my fingers curled into the towel beneath me. “You make me impatient. Compulsive,” he growled.

One bar created a low humming vibration. Not as strong as before, unless I’d grown used to it. He slid back and pushed to the second bar, sending a more intense pulsing up through my core.

A moan rolled through my chest, and I circled my hips against him, desperate for more.

He drove to the third bar, and my thighs tremored like a tautened bowstring, the vibration shaking my nerves. A strong but bearable humming through my flesh. “Do you want more?” he asked in a ragged voice.

“Yes,” I breathed, writhing beneath him as he held himself inside of me.

“Of course you do. You’re a little nymph, aren’t you?” He pushed to the fourth bar. “You love to test my restraint.” A hint of anger carried on his voice, and the smile on my face soured with the muscle-cramping tension that licked my core.

Teeth clamping the fabric beneath me, I backed against him, and the fifth bar slid into me.

A primal sound rumbled in his chest as he held himself there, his arms tense and rigid, trembling around me.

Soft cotton captured the agonizing sound that tore from my throat. Drool leaked from the corners of my mouth.

The rippling intensity shook free whatever thoughts had plagued my mind earlier in the evening. An exhilarating distraction.

“Should I stop there?” he asked in that deep, gravelly voice, and gods help me, I shook my head.

As another thrust sent the sixth bar up into me, my walls clenched around him, and I clawed at the towels, a hoarse sound of pleasure trundling through my lungs. “Gods!” I gasped the word, every muscle in my body quivering and taut.

In and out, he plunged in a steady, maddening tempo. My head slipped into a feverish dream of ecstasy, as I imagined the two of us. Him rutting against me, and my body welcoming him like an eager doe in heat. I squeezed and chewed at the towels as he drove my body closer to the edge, that invisible precipice that promised pure rapture.

Every moan that spilled out of me was met by strangled grunts through clenched teeth as he fought to control himself.

His thrusts hastened, jostling my body.

I could barely catch my breath as a deep, throbbing ache curled inside my stomach and heat crawled up the back of my neck. White spots flickered across my eyes, breath trapped in my throat. A flash of light struck the back of my skull, as raw and blinding pleasure poured through my muscles in a tingling wash of ecstasy.

A deep, masculine growl of satisfaction rumbled out of him.

Caged by his arms, I could hardly move, while his body, a violent storm, shuddered around me. I rested my head against the towels, the hot fluids spilling into me with his release, and when I opened my eyes, I noticed blood trickling from his palm where he must’ve clutched his blade during climax. While sadness gripped my heart, the sight of it didn’t anger or disappoint me. It wasn’t something he could fix in one night, or perhaps at all, and I accepted that.

“The vibration … it’s not as intense,” I said breathlessly.

“It’s possible she’s growing weaker. Closer to death.”

Loyce. Had it been anyone else, I’d have thought the fact that she was still alive through all of that suffering far too cruel, but I couldn’t summon an ounce of empathy for her. She deserved the pain and agony of a slow death.

Zevander held himself inside of me a moment longer before he slid free, his release spilling down my thighs. He kissed my back then sank beneath the surface of the water, and I twisted around, sliding back down onto the ledge, my bones soft and spent. When he stood, his hair was saturated, and the way the wet strands fell around his face sent another flutter to my stomach. The man was stunning to admire.

As he reached for the bottle of soap, I swiped it up first, pouring it into my palm. “Allow me.” I perched myself on the edge of the bath as he settled between my thighs, and massaged it into his scalp just as he’d done earlier. Once it’d reached a lather, he dipped below the surface again and rose up until towering over me.