Page 69 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
When I blinked and knew the rest of the world once more, he was maintaining that steady rhythm into me, a smile on his lips, eyes bright.
“I could watch you fall apart forever.” That grip on my hips tightened as he angled them and deepened his claiming of me, stealing the air from my lungs. He kissed me, part sweet, part savage. “I want to make you scream my name, though.”
“Scream?” I rarely spoke out loud, never mind anything more, and right now I could barely speak between panted breaths. “I’d never.”
“We’ll see.” His words came out with a growled edge as his muscles solidified under my hands.
Then there were no more words, only his steady drive into me, his hand sliding from my hip over my belly, my breasts. His lips on my throat, my shoulders, my mouth. The softness of his magnificent hair between my fingers, tickling my neck, gleaming in the darkness. My legs wrapping around his hips, accepting him, claiming him for my own.
Good gods, he was mine.
That’s what he’d said and now his body was proving the truth of those words, making me his but equally making himmine.
Maybe that was what I’d meant with my whisperedpleaseagainst his lips when this all began.
With a harsh cry, I splintered into a thousand shooting stars in his night sky.
His groan rumbled into me as he stroked my hair and kissed me. A few strokes later his body jerked. He spilled inside me, marking me as his even in that secret place, bellowing my name into the dark.
Our breaths mingled in the stillness, and I held him close, kissing his hair, the side of his neck, anywhere I could reach, as he buried his face in the crook between my neck and shoulder. For all that he’d been in charge throughout this, right now vulnerability shook through him, and I cradled him in my arms, between my legs.
Somehow, with thatplease, I’d asked for what I wanted for once, and here it was—herehewas.
I’d asked and received. Thoroughly.
“Ly,” I whispered, fingers weaving through his hair, “I… that was… thank you.”
With a shaky exhale, he pushed himself up, just enough to meet my gaze. “I’m the one who should be thanking you, my…” His throat bobbed and he shook his head. “You are perfect. All I could want.”
My heart did something strange and my mouth didn’t know how to respond, so I let it do something else—something much easier—and I kissed him.
We lay under the stars, naked and sated, entwined. When the cool air finally quenched all the heat he’d raised in me, I shivered, and at once Ly produced a cloth and cleaned between my legs before pulling his jacket around my shoulders and tugging his breeches on. In one swift movement, he took me in his arms and carried me towards the darkened house.
On the way, we kissed and I took advantage of the fact his arms were taken up with carrying me. I explored his chest, his nipples, which hardened under my touch, the lines of his throat and jaw, and finally his ears. By the time we reached his chambers, his pace had gone from leisurely to determined, and his breaths came edged with a growl when he threw me onto the bed.
We didn’t sleep for quite some time.
The Morning After the Night Before
Faint sunlight trickled around the edges of the curtains, but I was warm, in a huge bed, and tucked against something solid.
Someonesolid.
Ly. Who just might be mine. How had that happened? Some miracle I wasn’t about to question. I smiled and wriggled closer, arm draping over his waist.
“Ari?” He spoke against my hair, hand planing up my back. “Does that mean you’re awake?”
“No. So tired.” My limbs and head were heavy as though all the fear from last night had caught up with me.
“You stay here, then.” He kissed the top of my head, my cheek, my other cheek, a slow smile easing into place. His hair was tousled from sleep, his shoulders relaxed, and he had never looked more gorgeous. “I need to go and attend to some business.”
I made a soft sound of protest, but he pressed a quick kiss to my lips.
“You see”—he nudged my nose with his—“I have this demanding threadwitch, and I’m scared of what she might do if she runs out of fabric, so I need to work to keep her in supplies.”
“I hear she’s highly dangerous.” My hand went to the pendant he’d given me—the only thing I wore under the sheets. “She smacked one of the sluagh with a piece of wood, don’t you know?”
He chuckled and kissed me again, lips lingering even as his feet slid out of the covers. “I’d heard as much. She’s positively dangerous.” He paused half out of bed, gaze caressing me in a way that made me fidget under the covers. “Or at least she is to me. I think she could get me to do anything she wished.”
