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His fingers work my clit in tight, knowing circles while his cock maintains that brutal rhythm. The dual assault is overwhelming, pleasure building so quickly I can barely breathe through it.
"That's it," he encourages as my inner walls begin to clench around him. "Squeeze my cock. Show me how much you've missed it."
"I hate you," I gasp, even as my body tightens around him, seeking more of the pleasure only he has ever given me. It's like I have to cling to the words.
His laugh is dark and knowing. "Hate me all you want while you come on my cock like the good little slut you are."
The crude praise pushes me over the edge. Pleasure crashes through me in waves, my body convulsing around him as I cry out, uncaring now who might hear. My vision blurs, my knees threatening to buckle as the orgasm tears through me with unforgiving intensity.
Araton groans behind me, his rhythm faltering as my inner walls pulse around him. "Fuck," he curses, his fingers digging into my hip hard enough to leave marks. "Taking my cock so well. Still the best pussy I've ever had."
His thrusts grow erratic, deeper, harder. I feel the moment he tenses behind me, his body going rigid as he buries himself to the hilt and spills inside me with a guttural groan that seems ripped from his very core. The sound of it—primal and unguarded—sends another aftershock of pleasure through me.
For a moment, we stay frozen together, his forehead pressed against my shoulder blade, our bodies still joined. Reality begins to seep back in slowly, bringing with it the cool night air on my heated skin, the distant sounds of the village, the knowledge of what I've just allowed to happen.
Slowly, he pulls out, and I rest my head against the wall, trying to gather my strength. Slowly I turn, ready to face him at last, to confront the man who's haunted me for three years.
But there's nothing behind me but empty air and lengthening shadows.
15
ARATON
The forest swallows me whole as I retreat from Ronnie's cottage, my body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. My zarryn snorts impatiently, pawing at the needle covered ground when I approach, silver coat gleaming under fractured moonlight filtering through the canopy. I run my hand along its shaggy neck, feeling the twin tails swish against my legs.
"Patience," I mutter, though I'm in no position to preach it.
I just took Ronnie against the wall of her home like a man possessed. Like a stranger. Like someone I barely recognize.
Swinging onto the zarryn's back, I guide it deeper into the forest, needing distance to think. The creature moves with surprising grace for its size, navigating between ancient trees with practiced ease. My wings flex unconsciously behind me, adjusting to accommodate the movement.
What in the fuck was I thinking?
Three years of wondering, of searching, of that gnawing emptiness that I refused to acknowledge—and I reduced our reunion to a vengeful fuck against a wall. I didn't even see her face properly in the darkness.
"Real charming, Velrien," I scoff at myself, letting the zarryn choose its path as we wind further into the thickening trees.
The forest air feels cool against my heated skin, carrying scents of herbs and earth. It should be calming, but my mind races faster than my mount ever could. I flex my fingers, still feeling the ghost of Ronnie's softness, the way she trembled and yielded despite her defiance.
That defiance.Gods, how I've missed it.
No one challenges me the way she does. No one else makes me feel so fucking alive, so driven to conquer, to possess. Three years, and the fire between us hasn't dimmed in the slightest. If anything, it's grown more dangerous, more consuming.
The zarryn finds a small clearing and I dismount, needing to move on my own two feet. My wings spread fully, stretching to their impressive span—nearly fifteen feet of dusky gray-blue feathers flecked with silver. The muscles along my back relax as I give them a powerful flap, stirring the night air around me.
She ran from me. Left without a word, without explanation. The rage I've nursed for three years bubbles up again, hot and demanding. I've built an impressive life, carved out respect and position through wit and strategy rather than inheritance, yet she reduced me to a snarling beast with nothing but her presence.
"Fucking unacceptable," I growl to the empty forest, pacing the clearing's perimeter.
Yet here I am, prowling through these woods instead of continuing my journey south. Here I am, still caught in her orbit after all this time.
I pause, running a hand through my short-cropped black hair, feeling it stand in its perpetually tousled state. The realization hits me with startling clarity: I'm not ready to let her go. Not again. Maybe not ever.
A slow smile spreads across my face, tugging at the dimple in my right cheek that only appears when the emotion is genuine. I know exactly what I'm going to do.
I'm going to stay.
Not just stay—I'm going to reacquaint myself with Ronnie properly. Remind her of the chemistry that crackles between us whenever we're within ten paces of each other. Remind her body who it belongs to, even if her stubborn mind refuses to admit it.