Page 50 of Flameborne: Fury (Emberquell Academy #2)

The world disappeared as he touched me and my rasped at the pleasure he drew from my flesh.

He was my forever. I was certain of it. For the first time, I was sure of him and his love for me. I could have wept with the joy of that.

“I love you,” I breathed. “I love you so much.”

“Do you want me?” he rasped, growling approval when I gasped my yes, and diving for my throat, his thick, hard length nudging at my core—

“Hey-yo! Where the fuck are you, Talon? You weren’t joking when you said this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

I startled at the strange voice, jumping to cover myself, but Ruin grabbed my wrist and pulled his head up, grinning wickedly at me as he pinned my arm back next to my head.

“Don’t cover up, beautiful. They want to see you,” he graveled, then raised his voice and turned his head to look over his shoulder, towards the ladder. “Up here. The loft.”

“But—!” I hissed, anger and disbelief spearing through me. “Who—what are you—”

“They’re my brothers. I told you, I told them about you,” he said, turning back to stare down at me, his eyes an inferno.

I stared at him in horror, only a small part of me comforted when he leaned higher, covering me with his body, one hand in my hair, his nose almost touching mine, his gaze burning.

“I’ve been bragging about you,” he rasped.

“About how you want me.” My mouth fell open as he thrust, sliding his marble-hardness against me so my body clenched and I gasped.

“That’s it, Brenny,” he muttered, gritting his teeth, his voice rough and raw. “That’s my horny little filly.”

“No, I—”

Noises below of men joking, footsteps, rustling in the straw near the ladder to the loft. They couldn’t—surely he didn’t mean for them to—

“They want to meet you, Brenny. They’re my brothers. I told you, we do everything together.”

“But—”

“You said you wanted to meet them!” he hissed, the flames in his eyes flaring with anger as well as need, so I froze.

I’d imagined I wanted to meet them clothed.

A second voice said something too low to catch, then more, deep, male voices laughed.

A shrill scream started in my head a moment later when a strange face appeared at the top of the ladder, a handsome man not much older than him, with dark, tousled hair and a scar on his chin.

His eyes widened and darkened, like a cat’s when they sensed a mouse.

I froze, then cried out as my love cursed wickedly and thrust into me.

Desperate, afraid, and so confused, I slapped a hand to his back, grabbing for something stable, begging for help, as he let out a guttural bellow I’d only heard from him once before—the first time I put my mouth on him.

“Fuck, Brenny,” he gasped, fingers clawing into my hair.

“Stop—please—” I pleaded, terrified and mortified as the unknown man climbed into the loft, his eyes bright, avid, fixed on us and his hands immediately went to the buckle of his trousers.

“Fuuuuuck, Tal. I thought you were showing off, but, damn.”

The man I loved grunted desperately, plowing into me, hands clawing, grasping, grabbing as I struggled, bracing one hand on his shoulder to push him off and gave a frantic cry—but he only caught my wrist and planted that hand down next to my head, looming over me so I lost sight of the other man as another, lighter head and thick shoulders appeared at the top of the ladder and a curse echoed in the rafters.

He leaned down to fill my gaze with his shuddering shoulders and bared teeth, his jaw trembling. “Look at me, Brenny. Look at me!”

Unable to fight his strength, I locked eyes with him, tears welling in my eyes and lips trembling. My love grunted and leaned forward, took my mouth, nipped my lower lip, then arched his back and thrust into me again. “Do you love me, Brenny?”

“I… yes. But—?!”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He jerked, his jaw rolling and eyes black with need as he hunched his shoulders and pounded into me.

More movement, shadows behind him, whispered curses and another male laugh. I tried to see, but my vision was blurred and he filled my line of sight. A strange, high sound filled my ears and my heart wanted to stop. But it couldn’t—

“My girl… my girl… my fucking horny filly. I’m going to fill you up. We’re going to fill you up, Brenny. Look at me. Look at me!”

“Stop… please stop—” I breathed through trembling lips.

He shook his head, but his hand left my wrist and cupped the back of my neck, pulling up to arch my back and he swore again as I shifted.

Then he dove for the skin under my ear, that space that made me giggle and gave me goosebumps, and when paired with his thrusts, should have helped me rise.

But I wept, screwing my eyes tightly closed against the sight of several pairs of eyes, hungry and fixed on me.

“It’s me, Brenny,” he whispered in my ear in the tight voice that had whispered love, and need, and admiration. The one that made me believe him. “It’s me.”

“But—”

“You’re beautiful, my girl. So beautiful.

And so needy—they just want to see. They didn’t believe me.

I’m showing you off, beautiful. Just showing you off.

I’m so proud of you.” His thrusts picked up pace and he gripped my hair, pushing up so my chest was bare as his back bowed to take me more deeply.

He stopped whispering, groaning instead, his deep, ragged words breathless.

“Don’t let me down, now. Don’t make me find someone else who’d understand. ”

“I—”

“You can do this, Bren. I know you can. We have one night—one fucking awesome night. Let me show you off. Let them see how beautiful you are.”

My body jiggled and bounced with the force of him, and if we’d been alone I would have enjoyed it.

But those eyes were there, those hungry, bright eyes that I didn’t know—and he called to them to watch, to enjoy.

And despite my whispered protests, his thrusts filled me and pushed me, cracking something small and fragile deep inside me.

I turned my head away, eyes screwed tightly shut, unwilling to see —afraid I might vomit on him…

until suddenly the fear and weight of this strange moment just eased away.

I grew light and airy.

Weightless.

When my lover bellowed and gasped, his body twitching, all those muscles rigid, his finger clawing my scalp, I felt so little it seemed I would float away.

But he was there, staring down at me, jaw slack and rolling, roaring for me.

I held on. He was all that was real. All that mattered. He could keep my feet on the ground.

Then he was spent and collapsed on me. One of the others shuddered, and there were several hissed curses.

Then… nothing but low murmurs and stifled laughter in a nearly silent, golden haybarn.

It didn’t feel real.

As we lay there, I clung to him to keep him over me, shielding my nakedness. And I considered myself.

I was okay. I didn’t hurt. Yet, I was afraid. Terrified. He had always made me feel safe, protected. But, no matter how I clung now, I couldn’t stop crying. Quietly. Softly.

Sweaty and shaking, he pushed up on an elbow and filled my gaze again, gulping at the air, his cheeks flushed and a piece of straw stuck to his sweaty temple.

“Look at me, Bren. Look at me.”

I made myself open my eyes properly to meet his, praying he had the words to make this better.

He braced with both hands on the blanket under my shoulders and stared down at me… and the chilled, spiraling terror in my chest went still.

I’d never seen such admiration in his eyes. The part of my heart that loved him leaped to meet that, and the pieces of me that had been shattered, tried to suck together again at the sight of his smile. But then movement behind him caught my eye and I turned to remember the horror of—

Still bracing on one hand, holding his entire weight there so his bicep bulged and his chest turned hard, he took my chin in his other hand and turned my head away from the other men.

“Why are you crying, Brenny. That was great! Remember what I said?” he croaked. I blinked and searched his beautiful eyes that crinkled when he smiled. “I love you, Brenny. You’re my girl. My beautiful, horny girl. Aren’t you?”

I blinked again and swallowed, tried to stop crying.

Then his smile grew wider. “That’s my girl. That’s my beautiful girl. I’m here. And I’ll always keep you safe. I promised—remember?”

“Y-yes."

“Don’t cry, beautiful. Smile.”

And then he waited until my buzzing, screaming head caught up and it occurred to me that he meant it.

“Show them your smile, beautiful.”

“But…”

He shook his head, a flash of rage filling his gaze that was clearing of the glaze of lust and sharpening. I tensed—and tightened on his body so he groaned.

“That’s right. Fuck, Brenny. That’s it. That’s right.

I’m here.” As he said the words he drew out of my body and panic flared in my chest. I babbled and grasped for him, but he shook his head and shushed me, not rolling off of me, still covering me, hushing my name and holding my chin until I met his eyes again.

“I’m here,” he said in that deep voice that I’d always loved. The one he saved for me. “I’m staying right here. I just brought some friends, that’s all. And I want to show you off—I’m so proud of you, Brenny. So. Fucking. Proud.”

The part of me that loved him lit up like the flare of a match, but I still blinked away tears.

“I… I don’t know them—”

“They’re Furyknights, Bren. Good men. They won’t tell anyone, I promise. We share everything. And we keep each other’s secrets. And they’ll make you feel so good! I promise.”

I stared at him, wanting to argue, but they were there, and they were Furyknights? Like him? The men he’d told me about?

He nodded like he’d heard the question in my mind. “Good men,” he repeated. “And I want to show them how perfect you are.”

Then, before I could respond, he pushed away from me, kneeling between my thighs so that the cool air rushed against my damp skin.

I sucked in, panicked, and sat up, grabbing for him—and he opened his arms and pulled me into his chest, pulled me up, kissing me, urging me to get to my knees too, to kneel in front of him.

When I was positioned the way he wanted, he put both hands on my face and lifted my chin, his face so close to mine I couldn’t see anything else.

“I love you, remember?”

I nodded dumbly, my vision tunneling so that I didn’t see the shadows moving around us. I only saw him. My pulse thundering in my ears so that I didn’t hear the heavy footfalls, or the rustle of the hay, only his voice.

And then he instructed me how to show them.

I didn’t want to. But I also didn’t want to lose him. And he stared down at me with so much admiration. Not just the hunger of need. Not only the blaze of want. Delighted awe.

He loves me, I reminded myself. He thinks I’m beautiful.

I can be beautiful. I can be brave.

I didn’t remember answering his question, but he groaned and kissed me open mouthed, shuddering as he tasted my tongue, keeping my face in his hands and whispering against my lips all the wonderful things we’d share as a calloused hand landed at the base of my spine, then slid up, up, up into my hair, the fingers tightening there so that I was pulled slightly away—but my lover didn’t stop talking in that low gravel.

It was his breath against my lips that reassured me, when someone else’s breath fluttered in my hair.

It was his eyes I locked on when strange hands reached around to knead my already sensitized breasts.

It was his shoulders I clung to, nails digging into his skin, when I felt the strange, hard length between my legs.

And it was his voice, always his, rasping in my ear, and in my heart, and in my soul every time another voice spoke. Every time a strange sound echoed.

Beautiful, he said.

Amazing, he said.

Look at her.

She’s fucking perfect.

I told you.

I told you, he said.

I told you, he laughed.

I fucking told you, he grunted.

His voice was the only thing I could bear to hear.

I closed my ears to everything else.