Page 47 of Claim the Light
I take a deep breath before I position myself opposite him.
A buzz of anticipation runs through me.
Any contact with Micah’s body is a thrill. Let alone the invitation to put him on his back.
I give him a smile and then I begin.
* * *
Three hours later, we’re sweaty and hot, and the buzz I welcomed has become a persistent, low ache in my stomach.
Micah hasn’t held back, proving to me over and over how many times and how many different ways he can immobilize me. But each time, he also shows me how to free myself. How I can use my smaller body and my lighter weight to slip his hold and strike back. Turn the tables on him and make the best use of his position to inflict damage.
Sometimes, my wings can be used to my advantage. Other times, they’re a liability. I’m quickly learning how to recognize which in any given situation.
I run through the last maneuver he taught me, a sneaky move that puts him on his back and me straddling him, which allows me to land a punch to his face.
Of course, I stop my fist above his cheekbone, since actually connecting with his body with any force would only break my hand. The moment his scales appear across his skin, his body becomes rock-hard.
At the last moment, I flatten my hand, running it down the side of his face. My other hand punches the floor on the other side of his face, taking me low to his body.
My chest is heaving and every droplet of sweat on his body is calling to me.
I pause above him, studying the changing power in his eyes. The slow shifting from teacher to mate. The softening of his lips and the gentling of his hands where they rest against my hips.
“Don’t go easy on me, Grudge,” I murmur, my lips so close to his that it’s becoming unbearable to keep my distance.
I catch his broadening smile before he deftly reverses our position, one hand flying up to cushion my head before I find myself on my back, my legs wrapped around his hips.
He lowers his head slowly to mine, his lips feathering my mouth, the softest touch that sends a shock of sensation right to my core. He deepens the kiss, leaving me gasping when he breaks the contact and trails kisses down my neck.
Finding the upper curve of my breast through my shirt, he asks in a husky rumble, “I’d like to go down on you. Would that be okay?”
Dear saints.Just hearing him ask nearly tips me over the edge.
My core clenches and I bite my lip before I nod. “Uh-huh.Yes.”
His head lowers to my stomach, where he plants kisses all along the edge of the elastic band at the top of my white pants, his lips grazing my skin. When he tugs the band lower, his kisses travel to the top of my pelvis and my body responds with a rush of heat.
Damn, I’ve never wanted to be rid of my clothing this fast.
But he seems content to leave the material right where it is, his thumbs stroking the inside of my thighs outside my pants and his lips brushing over the top of them. His kisses are increasingly insistent across my pelvis and upper thighs, his gaze flashing to mine. It’s as if he’s waiting for me to take control of what I want.
Without hesitation, I lift my hips off the floor and reach down to push my own clothing off. The elastic waistbands of both the long pants and my underwear only allow me to push them as far as my upper thighs, but he gives a satisfied growl, as if he’s pleased that I took control.
My thighs are closer together than I want them to be and it forces my legs flat to the floor, a constraint I want to remove. I’ll tear these fucking clothes apart if that’s what it takes to give him access to my body.
But Micah doesn’t seem at all concerned or deterred.
He’s straddling my legs and his position allows him to lower his head to my body. His mouth reaches my pelvis, his tongue swirls between my folds and lightly flicks against my core, and I shiver from the intense pleasure.
Warmth tightens my muscles and cascades through my entire body. My hands find the top of his head and twine in his hair as I wish I could give back what I’m feeling.
I gasp when he responds to my touch by slipping his hands behind my backside and lifting my hips slightly off the floor. It’s a gentle arch that tightens my muscles and intensifies the pleasure he’s already giving me.
Pure, aching need overwhelms me, and I give in to the sensations washing through me, desperate to rock against him, desperate to feel his tongue against all of me, but I can’t find purchase now that he’s entirely in control.
And I’m becoming increasingly aware that his touch can only go so far in this position and—dammit—it’s not enough.
