Page 29 of A Heist for Filthy Rivals (Mythic Holidays #3)

“Can you do something for me?” My voice tremors with his thrusts, with my own ascent toward the peak.

“Anything, love,” he breathes.

“Put your hand on my throat like you did on the roof, when you saved me from falling.”

His gaze darkens with a beautiful, predatory delight, and he lifts his wounded arm, placing that hand around my neck. “Are you going to come for me now, Devilry?”

I nod, panting, my gaze magnetized to his as he exerts slight pressure on my airway. His hips roll as he pulls out of me, right to the tip, and shoves in with a violence that ignites my entire being. I release a sharp little scream and come with an explosion of bliss.

I can’t find words, can’t even swear or call out his name. I release a series of shrill gasps and panting moans while I shiver through the aftershocks of the pleasure. It cleansing, powerful, and depraved. It’s everything I need.

“My beautiful bad girl,” Ravager praises me, and then he groans heavily. “I’m going to come, Devil, I’m coming…” He pulls back a little, but I whine in protest, still riding the delirium of the orgasm.

“Don’t pull out,” I gasp. “Don’t, don’t. Come inside me, please, please.”

“Gods, yes,” he sobs out, and he thrusts one more time. His body tenses, and a harsh grunt bursts from his throat. His cock jumps and surges inside me, spilling all his cum deep in my body. When I think he’s done, his cock twitches and he comes a little more.

My reality crystallizes, and my mind becomes suddenly quiet, hyper-aware of the heaviness of his body on top of mine, the thunder of his heart against my chest, and the tension of his arm beneath my fingers, taut muscle beneath smooth skin.

The side of his face is pressed to mine, his jaw against my cheek, his hair tumbling and tangling with my lashes.

I am startlingly, intimately fused with him in this moment, on a level deeper than pleasure.

Emotion vibrates through him in waves I can’t miss. This act meant something to him, something I’m not sure he could even define, and knowing that moves me deeply.

I cling to him with all the strength left in my weary body. Still panting, he nuzzles into my hair, then turns his face to the curve of my neck and kisses me tenderly there.

“Oh fuck,” I whisper, unable to bear the cascading tenderness and the ascending hope clashing inside me. I’ve never had sex like this. I didn’t know it could be like this.

When I curse, he says quickly, “Did I hurt you?”

“No. It’s just—everything.”

“I know.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. The connection we have is starkly obvious, so raw that it would almost hurt to acknowledge it aloud. Neither one of us is ready to dissect what it means.

Ravager shifts his hips back, drawing his slick length out of me. My sex feels swollen, sated, faintly sore.

He gives it an admiring stroke with his thumb, once down each side of my opening. “Did I just put my baby inside you?”

“I take contraceptive herbs.”

“Oh.”

I raise myself on both elbows and hook an eyebrow at him. “Are you honestly disappointed?”

“No.” He chuckles sheepishly. “But I should be more relieved than I am.”

Slowly I lie back down, a little unsettled. He basically just admitted that he wouldn’t mind having a baby with me. What kind of life would such a child have, being parented by two volatile thieves?

“I scared you just now, didn’t I?” he says.

“No.” My reply is sharp, defensive.

He releases a deep sigh. “Best night of my life, and I screw it up with a stupid comment.”

Instantly my heart softens. “You didn’t screw it up. Most men I’ve met in this business take off running at the mere mention of commitment, so I was just surprised. After all, we’ve only known each other for the equivalent of a day or less. We’re complete strangers to each other.”

“Strangers fuck all the time.”

“Yes, but they don’t act like they might be all right with impregnating the other person on the first try.”

He groans, covering his face with both hands. “Can we stop talking about it?”

“Relax. You’re not the only one who said stupid shit. I said you ‘felt like gold.’” I chuckle regretfully.

“That wasn’t stupid at all. I understood what you meant.”

“Did you? So then… what did I feel like?”

“Let me think.” He rolls onto his back beside me and tucks one muscled arm behind his head. “Your cunt is like a knife sheath, a high-quality leather one that’s been worn in well and it’s got that soft, smooth patina—”

I sit up straight. “My cunt is like old worn leather? That’s what you’re going with?”

“It’s a compliment, Devilry.”

“Like hell it is.”

“I never claimed to be good with words, sweetheart. I’m better with explosions.” He winks at me suggestively.

I grab a handful of the linens and drape them over his face. “Go to sleep. I’ve had enough of you for one day.”

“I’ll never get enough of you.” His voice is muffled by the cloth, but I hear the words distinctly.

I don’t know whether to be gratified or terrified.

Not that it matters. We’ve already been in Annordun much longer than is wise, and we have thoroughly disrespected this place with explosions, traps, murders, and bodily fluids of all kinds.

If the Stewards do show up, I have no doubt they’ll annihilate us instantly.

So it doesn’t really matter what a certain cocky thief thinks of me.