Page 49 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

He grinned, and a touch of mischief reached his eyes, her stomach fluttered. “You already have me, Mira, entirely. Now. You’ve given me the future your father wants and the future that would hurt your family. But, again, Mira, what do you want?”

“I want to make my own future. I want to do that with you…and, at first I thought that meant that I couldn’t get married.

Marriage was my mother’s happy ending, but I didn’t want to sacrifice my sword for a tea room.

But now, I think my mother chose to do that, she wasn’t forced to.

Did…did you honestly see marriage in your future? ”

“No, but I didn’t see myself falling in love before I met you, either, yet here we are.”

“So, you’re saying that whatever I want, you’ll do? You have no opinion?”

“I’d prefer not to run away and join a circus. I’ve never been very good at juggling.”

“But seriously, does this mean that, if I were fine with it, you’d be fine with it?”

“What is this ‘it’ we’re discussing? But yes, probably, if this ‘it’ made you happy.”

“The ‘it’ is marriage. A whole formal thing where I become Lady Drake and you suddenly become society’s prince.”

He sneered. “I’m sure they’ll find ways around calling me that, given their contempt of me.

And, no, I had never thought I would marry, but I know one thing.

” His tone grew serious, somber. “I’m not keen to put any potential children through my experiences.

I won’t be able to help that they’ll be part fae, but being legitimate still matters to this world.

I don’t want to be the cause of closed doors when every door should be open to them. ”

“Do you want children?”

He stilled, but she couldn’t exactly read the emotion in his eyes. “I had never considered. It was just assumed I wouldn’t since I had no plans to marry and no desire to taint a new generation with my mixed lineage.”

“And now?”

He locked eyes with her, remaining silent.

“I don’t care about half or part or whole. Fae or human or guardian. The fact that you hate that part of you, makes me want to love it all the more for you.” Her hand went up to his hair again, stopping just before pushing the dark strands away from his ears. “May I?”

He looked away, but his hand settled over hers, guiding it forward.

She pushed his hair back and, while it wasn’t quite as prominent as the full fae she had seen, whose ears extended a good inch more than a human’s, there was a clear point to the shape.

She pulled his face back to her and kissed him.

A long, deep kiss that melted all the tension she sensed building in his shoulders. “You should wear your hair shorter.”

He let out a breath, still not quite ready to laugh about it, though it was clear that her approval had mattered.

She traced the outline with her finger idly as she added, “And…maybe children would be nice. I don’t want my sole role in life to be mother and wife, but I don’t think it would be that way with you. ”

“I’m sure I could find other roles for you to play,” he said, eyes growing dark again.

She swallowed. She was still settled across his legs, and it only took the suggestion before she was warming all over, desire snaking its way through her thoughts, whispering scandalous suggestions to her body.

Like the suggestion to glide her thigh across him as she repositioned, so he was enclosed in her legs and responding with a gratified groan.

His hand splayed across her back to align her hips with his, the motion of the carriage creating a broken, scattered sort of rhythm.

At some point she had wrapped around him, the transition into kissing becoming more familiar, not so much a choice but just unconscious habit.

She could kiss him forever. A very small possessive part of her thrilled at the idea of being the last and only person who would get this pleasure.

He was hers.

The carriage drew to a halt with a substantial lurch that had her clutching at the roof to keep her balance. The driver called out that they arrived.

Between leaving the cab and entering Devin’s house Miranda had no actual memory and she wasn’t sure if her feet had ever touched the ground.

She was just coherent enough that when Devin called to the butler to draw a bath, she breathed, “Not enough time,” against his ear.

“Wait an hour—” He started, addressing Haversham.

“Longer,” she hummed.

“Never mind, I’ll send for you.”

And then she was in Devin’s bedchamber and he set more of the hooks on her uniform free.

“This is the first time I’ve ever done this sober,” he started, drawing his nose down the line of her jaw, “I can smell your arousal from here.” He was breathing like he wanted to inhale every trace of it from the air.

A thrill rippled through her. “And your aura is pulsing with colors that I can’t even process fast enough. I can see every single sensation.”

He eased the front of her uniform open. “Like the difference between this—” His hand slipped through the opening and he filled his palm with her breast, fingers working in a kneading pattern and drawing out soft, blissful sighs.

“And this—” The top of her uniform hit the floor, and he sealed his mouth over her nipple through the already battered remains of her chemise.

When he pulled away, his eyes traced the outline of her body with a satisfied smirk, the thin cotton sheer and pasted to her skin.

He removed the rest of her stained, battered uniform, guiding her toward the large bed. She stopped him with a hand, moving her fingers to undo his shirt before he could question and when she reached his pants she hesitated. Not afraid, but also, this was vastly different from pictures in a book…

“We don’t have to—”

“I want to.” She hated being coddled. And she loosened the ties until there was nothing keeping up his pants except her hands. She let go and took a step back.

He surpassed every crude illustration she’d giggled over with Lydia.

The real thing was far from funny and it wasn’t laughter that heated her skin as she admired the sight of him.

She stepped closer and eased his hair back from his ears so she could admire the whole of him, even the parts he hated. Divine above. He was beautiful.

He didn’t speak, but it was clear that his sanity hinged on her reaction.

Instead of words, she grabbed him and pinned him to the bed in a fluid motion that he was entirely unprepared to block.

She had liked it like this before and he had seemed to enjoy it as well.

The unmasked desire in his eyes was her only affirmation of his opinion on her use of force. And when she started to crawl up his body, stopping and sitting back on her heels, legs straddling his thighs, with Devin completely at her mercy, it felt erotic and powerful.

She did not plan to be merciful.

When her hand reached out for the hard length of him, he hissed, fingers clawing into the comforter.

He had tried to stop her last time, but he wasn’t in charge anymore.

Her hand moved and explored until she found the motions that seemed to draw the most reaction out of him.

He’d thrown an arm over his eyes, breathing in a very focused, even pattern.

With his eyes covered, Miranda felt the daring urge to lean forward and swipe once against the velvety tip with her tongue.

“Fucking hell.” His words were drawn, ragged. So exquisitely raw .

Fuck. Shit. Fucking…shit. Devin couldn’t put a single thought together. He had anticipated his bold, daring Miranda to explore him with her hands. However much a maiden, she was hardly squeamish. And he’d focused very, very intently on not coming all over her hands mere seconds after she’d started.

Then, Gods—fuck—the warm, wet glide of her tongue on his cock had sent him to another plane of existence. Mostly because he had not expected it, though, in hindsight, he should have.

Emboldened by his reaction, or just because she was a ruthless vixen, she’d lapped at the underside of him while her hand pumped up and down.

And fuck.

He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Mira,” he tried, hating the agony in his voice, but he was determined not to finish all over her mouth—no matter how tempting—when she might not even be aware of what she was doing.

He dared looking at her again, watching the boldest red strobe with each sweep of her tongue.

And words slammed through him with each shimmer of color. Lust. Need. Bliss. Crave.

He was so close. If he didn’t act now, there was no turning back.

Even though his body was rioting with protest, Devin twisted her hair in his fingers and pulled.

Devin’s grip on her hair snatched Miranda’s attention. She looked up—murderous at being stopped when she thought she was doing a decent job—and followed the not-quite-gentle but not-quite-painful pull on her hair until she was level with Devin’s face.

And when he kissed her, there was an undercurrent of threat that shivered through her. Touching him had been arousing enough, but with his fingers still entwined with her hair, he used the free hand to slip down her stomach, reaching the building warmth between her thighs.

The noises that rose up her throat were almost animalistic. Low breathy moans and sighs that she couldn’t have silenced if she wanted. Each slow stroke or intentional sweep, twisted and coiled as she chased that delicious release.

Slowly his fingers untangled from her hair and settled on the small of her back, pushing her forward.

Miranda walked with her knees as she allowed him to guide her.

Further and further until he had to move the arm filling her with the best sort of tension back to his side because the angle was too steep.

She was straddling his chest and he continued easing her forward until she was kneeling over his face.

Oh.

And holy shit .