Page 52 of A Match Made in Hell

It’s gentle at first.

Tentative touches of my fingers to his chest, his on my hips, the barest brush of our lips mingled with soft sighs. Sighs without words that somehow sound like finally .

His mouth is like velvet beneath mine, and I want to sink into it, sink into him ; I want to remove every layer between us until there’s nothing left but skin, with no secrets left to reveal and no pretences to hide behind.

My leg slides over his and he tugs me on to his lap, and – every thought eddies from my head.

Beneath the towel, I can feel how much he wants me, and I grind against him, needing to feel him against me, desperate to have him inside me.

Sath groans, deepening the kiss, his tongue parting my lips and sweeping inside my mouth.

He tastes like honey and sugar and sin, but more than that, he tastes like home, like everything I’ve ever wanted. I gasp his name into his mouth, and his fingers dig harder into my side before gliding underneath my top, stroking the delicate kin there.

I break the kiss to yank my top off, wanting him bare against me. Sath is immediately distracted; before I can pull him closer he’s tugging down the cups of my bra and flicking a tongue over my nipple. I shudder, gripping his shoulder for support.

‘I want you to know,’ I say between pants, ‘I’m still annoyed with you. Furious, even.’

‘Really.’ His smile curves against my breast. ‘Should I stop?’

My hand seizes his hair. ‘Absolutely not.’ I drag his face back to mine and capture his lips again, and it’s not gentle this time: it’s all teeth and tongue and hands that grasp and claw for every part of each other we can reach, knowing this might be the only chance we have to reach them.

I want to learn every inch of him, filling in the pieces of a Sath-map in my mind with every new discovery.

The skin below his belly button is ticklish.

He twitches, huffing a laugh when I stroke my finger there.

He likes it when I bite his lip; the low moan he makes when my teeth graze flesh tells me that much.

His mouth finds my neck, and I grip him, wishing we had all the time in the world, that we never have to leave this room and face what’s outside the doors.

But we do. And if tonight turns out to be our only night to do this, I want to experience everything. I reach for the knot on his towel, determined to remove that final barrier between us, but Sath has other ideas.

‘I made you a promise,’ he says, ‘when you asked what I’d like to do to you.’

He lifts me, spins me round, and deposits me on the bed beneath him.

Pops the button on my jeans. Unzips the fly excruciatingly slowly.

His eyes never leave mine as my jeans are removed, and then his fingers hook inside the waistband of my underwear to slide that off too.

Bracing my foot on his shoulder, he presses light kisses to my ankle, the inside of my calf.

I’m achingly wet and hopelessly empty, spread open and squirming beneath him, desperate for something, anything that’s more than this.

His hands go to the towel. My breath catches as the knot is undone and it’s tossed to one side, revealing the entire length of him.

The sight of his body, finally fully bare, has me salivating, my gaze riveted on both the hard muscles of his thighs and what lies between them.

Liquid heat pools in my core, while shadows of flame flicker down my arms.

Sath leans over me, tucking his fingers beneath my chin, dragging my stare away. ‘I believe I said I’d start by kissing you until you couldn’t remember your own name.’

Kissing is the last thing on my mind right now. Not when he’s this close to me, when I can feel the heavy weight of him on my thigh, when –

Sath’s lips crash against mine.

Okay. Fine. I can’t say I’m opposed to this. His lips move with expert precision, every brush of his tongue sending shivers down my spine. My bra is unhooked and tossed aside, and his hands are on my breasts once more, tweaking my nipples before skimming the sensitive skin on the underside.

He’s still not touched me where I need him most. I bite his lower lip, harder than before, earning me another groan before he pulls away, kissing my cheek, my neck, my ears.

‘So, what is it?’ Another kiss, along my jaw. ‘Your name?’

‘Sath . . .’

He smirks. ‘Wrong.’

I’m inclined to zap him with some of my new-found powers, but then his head moves lower, and I’m reminded of something else he’d promised me.

I go tight and loose all at once as he peppers kisses down my torso.

My abdomen. Lower. His hand urges my legs apart wider, wider before his head settles between my thighs.

He inhales deeply. My pulse thunders in my ears as my heart ricochets around my chest like a wild pinball. Normally I’d be embarrassed, panicking he’s going to hate the sight or smell or taste of me, but then he nuzzles me and groans a heated, ‘Fuck.’

It’s enough to have me gripping the sheets and trying to push myself into his face, any hint of propriety long abandoned. I’ve waited so, so long for him to do this, and I need him to do it quickly. I need –

Sath has other ideas. He pins me down, one hand flat against my stomach, refusing to let me set the tempo for him. Bastard. I’m nearly begging, and I think he knows it, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

His first lick has me bucking from the mattress, my toes curling into the sheets, scrabbling for purchase.

I cry out, needing to squirm, needing him to move ; he’s too slow and it’s too much, the feeling of his mouth on me, of his thumb pressing down in just the right spot.

Pressure builds and builds, never quite enough, and I swear he’s doing this on purpose.

It’s torture. Exquisite torture.

Finally, I whimper, ‘ Please .’

He pauses. I clench on nothing. He presses his mouth back where it belongs, and he can’t hold me down, can’t stop me writhing and bucking and screaming because he’s going harder this time, long sweeping strokes of his tongue working deeper and deeper. I kick out and scratch my nails on silk.

My whole focus is centred on what he’s doing to me, and that pressure is increasing again; I’m afraid he’s going to stop, to torment me some more, but this time he keeps going, replacing his mouth with a finger, then two, and I’m spasming around him, gasping for air, stars exploding before my eyes.

White light blinds my vision as I twitch beneath him. When I return to my body, he’s already crawled over me, caging me between his arms. His face hovers above mine. A rush of sheer, undiluted adoration swoops through my stomach.

‘You should have done that during lust,’ I say, gasping. ‘I’d never have said no.’

The corners of his mouth lift. ‘I had to give you a fighting chance at passing.’

My response is somewhere between a snort and a giggle. I’m not convinced it’s particularly attractive, but something close to fondness fills Sath’s gaze, and he brushes sweaty strands of hair from my face before kissing me again.

Immediately, I turn to liquid. My hands skim the planes of his chest, warm and solid, before drifting lower, wanting to touch him as he’d touched me. His hand encircles my wrist before it can reach its target, and I swear his eyes flash gold. ‘Another time.’

He nudges my knees apart before lining himself up at my entrance, kissing me one more time, long and slow and deep, as though he’s savouring me as much as I’m savouring him, like he too is afraid this one moment is all we’ll ever get, and wants to commit every second to memory.

The moment he slides inside me, it’s like all the scattered pieces of me finally click into place. With him, I’m just Willow, messy and imperfect, and it doesn’t matter. I don’t have to pretend, to wonder which sides of me are safe for him to see. They’ve already been exposed, and he doesn’t care.

He stayed.

He moves slowly at first. I throw my head back on the pillow, scratching my nails down his skin as he burrows his face into my neck.

Our mingled sighs fill the room, followed by panted breaths and his name on my lips when he slips a hand between us, pressing down on that spot between my legs, like while I’ve been mapping him he’s been mapping me too, except he’s done a much more expert job of it.

Already worked up, every nerve fried, I go over the edge almost immediately. It’s more intense this time, amplified by the feeling of Sath inside me, and I have to fight to keep my magic under control. Flames spark down my arms; I’m going to combust I am I am I am .

I grit my teeth, willing my flames to dim. I can’t turn into a fire hazard every time we have sex – which I plan for us to do a lot – which means I need to figure this out somehow. Bunnies. Clouds. Rainbows.

‘Willow?’ Sath has stopped moving. I open my eyes. ‘You’re losing control.’

‘Only a little,’ I mutter, shifting beneath him, urging him to continue. ‘Why have you stopped?’

He raises a brow, and I cannot believe we’ve paused mid-coitus to have an argument about the fact I’m on fire.

‘It’s fine. See?’ The flames have turned to shadows now, nothing but black smoke coiling around my elbows. ‘I can control it.’

I have to control it. If I can’t, I’ll never survive opening the gates. Sath doesn’t look especially convinced, probably because of the hole I’ve singed in the sheets, although he does start moving again, pulling out agonisingly slowly only to slam in again. I bite his shoulder.

‘Remember,’ he murmurs into my ear, ‘pure thoughts.’

He grins, like he knows my mind is living in the gutter, and kisses me before I can say something venomous in response.

He finds his rhythm, not breaking the kiss, and I’m burning up, unable to find anything pure in me at all, only a deep want .

I clutch at him, terrified I’m going to burn him too, but equally scared to let go.

His hands cup my face. The kiss slows, turning deeper, gentler, and with it comes emotion, like he’s trying to project every feeling he has into that kiss. And I feel it too. It blooms, like a flower erupting in spring sunshine, so intense my flames are snuffed out by its power.

Afterwards, we lie there, chest to chest, hearts pounding against one another, as though they’re trying to break through and become one.

Maybe they already are; already were . His fingers stroke my skin as though they’re mesmerised by it; his nose nuzzles my cheek as he lets out a contented sigh.

I hold him against me, wishing I could keep him here forever.

And when he shifts to look into my eyes, I see something shining in his gaze, something that mirrors the words threatening to bubble out of me, and I realise it’s not just lust I feel for him. Not even close.