Page 104 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
My heart, for all its fullness, leapt in my chest, and I cupped his cheeks, tracing the contours of his face as I kissed and kissed and kissed him.
Wearing a glowing smile, he turned us so he sat on the bed with me in his lap, and produced the bottle of oil. His hips rolled into me, deep and delicious, and I responded, riding his waves as he built higher ones in my very being.
The cool wetness of the oil was welcome when he drizzled it over my back, my burning flesh, then over my chest, the scent heady and thick, filling me as surely as he did. Then he crushed me against him, chest to chest, hip upon hip, bellies together.
Not even the finest spidersilk thread could’ve come between us.
We rocked together, my breasts slick and slippery against his chest, the sensation of gliding unlike anything else I’d ever experienced. His hands swept over every inch of my back, moulding to my shape, kneading my flesh, drawing groans from deep inside us both.
I kissed his throat, and his moan vibrated through my lips. I licked and nipped and sucked upon his salty flesh, as animal as he was. His pulse leapt under my mouth, my tongue, spiking and fast as his muscles hummed beneath me, against me.
“I love you so much,” I whispered against his skin, letting his stubble scrape my lips, sending fresh shivers of pleasure through me.
He buried his face in my hair and took a long inhale as though he could breathe me, breathe this moment in. “And I you.” His hands slid under my backside as he kissed me over and over and lifted me higher and higher, so I rode his full length. He captured my moans, consumed them, just as his touch consumed me.
My body throbbed with it, shook with it, the unbearable tension rising, rising, rising, threatening to destroy me. Good gods, I wanted it to. Such sweet, sweet obliteration.
A finger slid to my back passage, massaging, and I arched with a whimper.
He released my lips and searched my gaze, pupils wide, eyes hooded, a tiny questioning frown between his eyebrows. “Do you want—?”
“Yes,” I panted. “I want it, you.”
Watching my face, his pace slowed as he pressed and so gently entered. That sensitivity he’d built in me when only touching the opening continued, heightened on the inside. It twitched through me, made the stretch of his thickness in me all the sweeter, made the rub of his pelvis against my tight bundle of nerves all the brighter.
I nodded when I realised his breaths were slower as though he were focusing on my response and absolutely alert to any sign of distress. “Don’t stop.”
He slid a little deeper and the tightness made my mouth fall open and pushed a primal sound from my chest.
I was somewhere at the top of a mountain or a cliff or some other high and deadly place, ready to fall.
I rocked against him, front and back, and he timed his dual thrusts so one went in as the other drew out. He was everywhere, everything, around me, within me, a part of me.
“Ly… Lysander.” I think I shouted it the second time. His name was a prayer, a thanks, maybe even the only thing holding me in the world.
His triumphant smile said I’d cried it out, just as he’d wanted, and seeing him so pleased lifted my own pleasure higher even though I’d have sworn that was impossible.
“Reach for your gift, my love.” His voice came out ragged, half-breath, half-growl.
I gathered the parts of myself threatening to pull apart and whispered my True Name in my head. The silver web spread out from us, but it was brightest here, in this tight thread between his chest and mine.
Raspberry and rhubarb flooded my mouth, the sudden overpowering taste making me cry out, and then I fell.
Night and starlight, I was the threaded line between the stars, spelling out their constellations.
I fluttered, tight and loose, full and empty, but not alone.
That night darkness was Ly, falling with and through me, shattering my being into the motes that floated on the breeze when he shadowstepped.
But tonight those motes flickered and glimmered between darkness and searing silver light. Bright and black strands threaded between each one, drawing them back together.
Once all those flecks met, I blinked and found myself back in my body. Ly’s eyebrows were peaked, his lips parted, the perfect picture of wonder as we rode out the end of our shared completion.
A knot in my throat, I sagged against him, tears in the corners of my eyes as I kissed his lips, his cheeks, his chin.
“Ariadne.” His voice cracked as he said it and kissed my brow.
“Are we…?” I sucked in long breaths, trying to remind my body how to work for anything other than pleasure.
