Page 110 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

The tug of his lips had me tipping my head back, and I moaned, circling my hips against the bulge in his leathers.

He leaned back and lifted his tunic over his head, exposing the chiseled stone of his muscles. His hands swiped mine up and pressed them to his chest, where, beneath all that iron and ruin, his fragile heart beat against my palm.

The deep ridge of the scars I’d left there slipped beneath my fingertip and while I understood their meaning for him, they still troubled me. I bowed forward to kiss them, feeling him tense then shudder around me.

He raised his hips again and unfastened his trousers, and I stood just enough for him to push them down his thighs, his manhood springing free. Stiff and engorged, it stood high from his thighs, those wicked bars glinting in the light.

As I gently ran my metallic fingers over his delicate skin, he snatched up my wrists, his eyes pleading as he stared back at me.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked.

“There’s an urge inside of me.” He dragged my clawed nails across his chest, and a fevered lust pulled at his gaze, his head tipped back in surrender, as if that single brush of my nails had yanked the strength right out of him.

“I can’t think. I just want. And your touch…

it does things to me. Begs me to take,” he said through clenched teeth, muscles hardening under my tracing fingertips. “I’ll take too much.”

“You can’t take too much. Not when I’m giving myself freely. All of me. For you, Zevander.” I leaned forward and kissed him as I lifted my hips. “Take from me. Take what you need,” I said against his lips, and I guided his hand toward his engorged cock, lining it where I needed him. “I am yours.”

“Every breath. Every heartbeat. Every prayer you whisper to the gods. You belong to me, A’miszhla .” Seizing my lips, he curled one firm hand around my waist and pressed down on my hips, urging me over the curved tip of his flesh. Small thrusts breached my tight entrance.

Lower lip caught between my teeth, I breathed through my nose as the first rung slipped inside me. A deep, aching vibration, like a ripple in a pond, fluttered through my core, and stomach clenched, I leaned back, digging my nails into his thighs.

Zevander released a pleasured groan. “Gods alive, I need more,” he rasped. “Can you take another?”

At my nod, he gave another thrust, inching himself deeper. The second rung slid up into me, and my whole body shuddered as the vibrations intensified, the heat of his flame crawling up my stomach.

Still biting my lip, I let out a small whimper, as he held my hips, guiding me up and down, no more than those two rungs. My arousal slickened his skin, those bulbous prongs scraping over my sensitive flesh each time he withdrew and plunged again.

His thrusts were precise, practiced, the perfect tempo toward a maddening crescendo.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his deep, husky voice tickling my senses.

I nodded, and he slowed his pace, gently raising his hips as he lowered mine.

The third rung pushed inside, and my breath hitched, my body convulsing as the vibration sank into my thighs, up through my stomach to my breasts.

“Gods!” I cried out, clutching at his thighs as the sensation shook my nerves.

He groaned, tipping his head back, and I didn’t have to look down at his thigh to know I’d torn a gash in his muscles.

My stomach twisted, heart shriveling inside my chest as I imagined the blood there, but I couldn’t bear to turn and confirm.

A relieved smile pulled at his lips when he lowered his head again and gently coaxed my hips, his thighs flexed, trembling.

I jolted forward, wrapping my arms around him, my breasts pressed into his chest, wanting every part of me touching his skin. He was my gravity in a world of chaos. A reminder that the gods could be generous, even when cruel.

He braced his arms around my back, gripping the nape of my neck, as he kept on with his small thrusts, never more than three rungs.

The wooden chair creaked, the air thick and heady.

Tight cords of tension pulled at his muscles that twitched beneath my hands.

Sweat coated our bodies, my breaths arriving in shallow bursts against his damp shoulder.

I imagined my nerves shimmering like bolts of lightning each time he thrust his hips into me. Muscles taut and coiled, I clung to him, my lips brushing his neck, tasting the salt of his skin.

A string of tension inside of me wound tighter, relentless, squeezing my lungs. I pressed my forehead to his, jaw slack with the hot, dizzying pleasure that surged through me, quivering like the delicate string of a bow stretched too tight.

Our breaths merged. His eyes clamped shut, jaw clenched, as if flames tore through his body and he refused to burn.

I dug my metallic fingers into his shoulder, and he tilted his head back, letting out a deep, pleasured sound that sent a surge of want through me.

“Look at me.” My command arrived on a ragged breath. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

Brows pinched, he shook his head. “Can’t.”

“You can. Please look at me.”

Holding him against me, I fought to resist whatever was rising, building inside of me.

His eyes screwed tighter in a way that made me wonder if he was bracing for the pain. The agony that must’ve accompanied his release during his abuses.

I kissed his cheek and whispered, “I love you. Eternally.”

Molten flames devoured me when his eyes shot open, and he stared back at me, gaze turbulent but determined, like a man who’d just crawled his way out of Hell. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” How easily the words spilled out of me.

How true.

I loved him. Not simply because we were fated but for the way he trusted me with the vulnerable parts of him long hidden behind steel and violence. My beautifully broken protector whose scarred and blood-stained hands held me as if I were a coveted treasure.

He upped his pace, his grip on the back of my neck tightening. “I love you, Lunamiszka.” The words trembled from his throat like a solemn vow. “I’m a godless and selfish bastard, but I’ve never loved anything, or anyone, more.”

Waves of pleasure shot across my thighs, and I tipped my head back as a strained sound tore from me, robbing me of my voice and breath.

He held me tighter, his muscles shaking around me, and against my own heart, I dragged my nails across his back, my stomach clenching as a pained sound, raw and broken, tore from his throat.

Warm spasms of heat surged into me, filling me with his release, and I let out a shuddering breath as it trickled down my thigh.

I moaned his name, my voice weak with pleasure, and rested my forehead to his damp shoulder, panting against his skin as the aftershocks pulsed through me.

“It’s still vibrating…inside me,” I said in a ragged voice, twitching over his thighs.

“Good.” He pressed down on my hips, palm still clutching the back of my neck.

“I want you to remember this the next time some petty mortal offers you his seed.” Arm banded around my back, he held me tightly to him.

“We are written in blood. Born for each other. And not even the gods can tear us apart.”