Page 19 of A Storm in Every Heart (Enchanted Legacies #2)
She tightens around me, and it’s an agonizing struggle to restrain myself from yanking out my cock and thrusting into her.
As I watch her come, my heartbeat racing wildly, my shoulder blades begin to throb with a dull ache. My eyes widen in alarm.
That’s not good.
Fae wings only appear in highly emotional situations, like when your life is threatened, or occasionally during sex.
I’ve never lost control with anyone to the point that my wings appeared during sex, not even when I was younger. I close my eyes and try to force my shoulder muscles to relax. Deep breath in…
I breathe in a lungful of Odessa’s intoxicating scent at the same moment as she opens her eyes and looks up at me from the bed. It only makes things worse, and I swear I can feel the wings pressing against my skin as if trying to burst out.
Fuck me.
Mercifully, Odessa chooses that moment to distract me. “Not bad, Your Majesty .”
My eyebrows pull low. “ Not bad ?”
“I’d certainly give you points for enthusiasm.”
“You—”
I’m about to flip her over and spank her ass with enthusiasm, but my shoulders throb again, and I know I need to do something about it before things get out of hand.
Moving quickly, I undo my belt and drop it on the floor, then kick my boots off, not paying any attention to where they land.
I hesitate for a moment with my hand on the top button of my shirt.
If I take it off, she’ll see the tattoo, which would require a lot of explanation I don’t care to get into right now.
I glance at the dark windows and decide it’s dim enough in the room to risk it—especially when soon Odessa will be far too distracted to notice.
I drop the shirt on the floor and climb onto the bed, then shift to lie flat on my back. I reach for Odessa, pulling her roughly on top of me. Let the wings try to come out now.
Completely unaware of the reason behind my sudden change in position, Dessa easily obliges. She adjusts, her knees, falling to the bed, bracketing my hips. She grinds against my already painfully throbbing cock, and I dig my nails into her calves just to keep from losing control and impaling her.
I reach between us and run my fingers over her. “You’re dripping all over me. Now tell me again how ‘ not bad ’ that was.”
Dessa looks dazedly down at me and manages to smirk. “I’ve had better.”
My chest suddenly burns, and even though I know she’s fucking with me, I can’t stop myself from reacting. “That’s bullshit. Who was it?”
She smiles smugly as she runs her palms up my chest and follows them with her mouth, trailing her lips up my neck. She stops when she reaches my ear, sucking on it and trailing her tongue over the pointed tip before whispering her reply in my ear. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
A growl of frustration rumbles through my chest. Yes, I would like to know. I want to know the names of everyone who’s ever touched her so I can find them and kill them slowly and painfully.
The thought that she might have ever “had better” is unbearable. I want to destroy her for anyone else. I want to own her, want her undone and helpless. I want her to forget everything and everyone else but me.
I grip the outside of her thighs, tugging her forward, up over my chest. She rocks on her hips, and nearly topples over before her hands slam into the wall above my headboard.
I give her no warning before I dig my fingers into her ass and jerk her down, grinding her cunt onto my mouth so hard that her startled shriek is loud enough to wake the entire house.
She’s still drenched from her first orgasm, so I don’t start slow or ease her into it. I wrap both arms around her hips, hauling her forward, and flick my tongue greedily from her entrance all the way up to her clit.
I want to taste every inch of her, burn it so deeply into my mind that even when she’s gone, I’ll still be able to conjure it in the dark: the dizzying slickness of her, the way she gasps and swears in fragmented Hydrattan, the way her legs tremble uncontrollably as I flatten my tongue against her over and over in a relentless rhythm that makes her thighs shake and her knees buckle.
I wrap my lips around her clit and suck. There’s a loud bang, like she slammed her palms against the wall, before she lets out a noise that sounds like both a sob and a laugh.
“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” she pants, voice gone breathless and wild. “Don’t you dare stop.”
So I don’t. I give her everything: swirling, licking, sucking, my nose buried so deep against her sweet, slick heat that I’m half certain I could literally drown in her. Drown with a smile on my face just like every other weak idiot who chased after a siren.
Odessa screams and convulses, thighs crushing my ears, nails scraping against the wall, and I ride out every wave, drinking her in, humming with satisfaction as she melts into me, boneless and barely coherent.
I let her slump forward as the aftershocks roll through her in fractured shudders. Then, when she finally catches her breath, I slide her off my face and onto my chest.
“Not bad?” I tease, licking her taste from my lips.
She glowers down at me, cheeks flushed, but the effect is ruined by the way her legs are still trembling. “You cocky son of a bitch.”
“That’s more like it.”
I roll her gently onto her back and settle between her legs, licking a stripe up her inner thigh, slow and languid now. She writhes, hands slipping from the headboard to frame my face, fingernails raking lightly at my jaw.
“You’re insatiable,” she moans, voice half-resentful, half-awed.
I level her with a wicked smirk, then press a kiss to her hipbone, drawing it out until she’s squirming again. “And you’re delicious.”
Her eyes flutter, pupils blown wide and dark. I can see her trying to gather herself, to summon up the energy to say something flippant or biting, but she’s still undone, still shaking a little from the force of her orgasm. Good. I want her like this: spent, delirious, and at my mercy.
I slide up her body, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses on the swells over her breasts, along her sternum, the delicate line of her throat.
She tilts her head to give me better access, and for a moment, I slow, savoring the way she tastes, the way her skin is still flushed and damp beneath my tongue.
But the self-control I’ve been so smugly congratulating myself for is rapidly going up in smoke.
My cock is so hard it hurts, a throbbing pulse that refuses to be ignored. All I can think about is how perfect she’d feel around me. How good it would be to lose myself in her.
She must sense it, because her hand snakes between us and she undoes the button of my trousers with a flick of her thumb.
She reaches beneath the fabric and closes her fist around me, squeezing as if she wants to remind me who’s really in control here.
My hips jerk, and I rock involuntarily into her palm, biting back a groan.
Odessa shimmies higher on the bed and lets her knees fall wide.
I brace my hand on the headboard above her, and lock eyes with her.
There’s a split second where the world thins to a pinpoint, every single muscle in my body wound tight.
Her gaze is fire and challenge, her lips parted, her breath coming in shallow, eager pants.
I grip her by the hips, hard enough that I’ll probably leave bruises for days, and line myself up against her center, fighting the primal urge to just slam into her, and instead let the moment crescendo—so that when I finally slide into her, almost painfully slow, there’s no turning back.
She’s impossibly tight and wet, the heat of her swallowing me whole. She wraps her legs tightly around my hips and reaches up to clasp her fingers around my neck. I thrust deeper, filling her again.
I hadn’t intended to take her like this—facing each other—and it feels too intimate.
I’m not sure how to feel about how I can see everything playing out on her face in real time—the startled lift of her brows as I bottom out, and then a beat later the shuddering release as her whole body accepts me in, clinging and pulsing with greedy need.
Her violet eyes flash indigo, and she holds my stare as her hips grind up, pulling me deeper, as if she wants to keep me right there at the edge of madness for as long as possible.
I feel her everywhere: knotted around me, trembling against my chest, fingernails digging crescents into my biceps as she yanks me closer with every thrust.
I slam into her again, and again, only semi-aware of all the noise we’re making and of the bed creaking and groaning as it slams into the wall.
Buttons, torn clothing, bits of crumbled drywall litter the floor.
The blankets and pillows on the bed are twisted, and feathers from the mattress float through the air.
The once clean, almost sterile, space looks like it was hit by a storm.
Hurricane Odessa.
Her mouth finds mine with a desperation so sharp it hurts; she bites my lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and then lets it go with a gasp that’s half-laugh, half-moan.
I slam into her one final time, and feel her tremble around me as I erupt with a shout inside her. And at the same moment, the muscles on my back ripple again, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it before my wings burst from my shoulders.