Page 24 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)
And she did, crashing over the edge with a choked cry, her body clenched tight around his fingers, her thighs shaking.
Her orgasm tore through her like a storm, dragging a long, shuddering moan from deep in her chest. Eiran held her through it, one hand steady at her stomach, the other curling protectively over her breast as she gasped through the aftershocks.
He murmured against her ear, quiet, tender things she couldn’t quite process, his voice a grounding thread through the haze.
When her breathing finally evened out, he kissed her shoulder.
“Was that okay?” he asked, voice thick, shaking a little now. “Was I too much?”
Maeve let out a breathless, incredulous laugh. “Okay?” she echoed. “Eiran, I forgot where I was. I think I forgot my own name.”
He gave a small laugh too, the sound rough with want and restraint.
His cock, still thick and pulsing against the curve of her back, reminded her just how far from done he was.
She turned in the water, eyes glazed with want, lips parted.
Without a word, she climbed into his lap and reached between them, guided him towards her, dragging her clit along his length.
The friction made him moan, his hands gripping the edge of the bath.
“Maeve…”
She rose up, positioned herself over him, then slowly, achingly, sank down. He filled her in a stretch that bordered on pain. Her mouth parted as her head dipped forwards, a whimper spilling out.
“Gods, you feel…” Eiran’s voice broke as he grabbed her hips, helping her take him inch by inch.
When she was fully seated, thighs flush to his, they stilled.
Panting and trembling as she moved, rolling her hips and finding a rhythm.
Eiran matched it, his hands guiding her with hushed control.
He leaned forwards, mouth closing over one of her nipples, sucking gently before biting down just enough to make her sigh.
His hands never left her hips, controlling the pace as she rode him.
The water sloshed around them, heat and pleasure folding together until they were one gasping, writhing, perfect mess of skin, hunger, and lust. Eiran’s breath grew ragged beneath her, so Maeve rode him harder, her thighs shaking, her body grinding against his with reckless, glorious abandon.
“Fuck,” she whispered, voice wrecked. “You feel... fuck.”
Eiran’s jaw clenched, every muscle drawn like a bowstring. “You’re sat there like a fucking goddess… and I’m supposed to breathe?” He groaned .
Maeve rolled her hips, his head tipped back with a curse, hands tightening like he was about to snap. “You were made for this,” he growled. “Look at you. My cock buried in you and still, you’re driving me mad.”
Her fingers threaded into his hair and she tugged. “Then stop trying to be noble,” she rasped. “Fuck me, Eiran.”
That did it, he surged up into her, a brutal thrust that knocked the breath from her lungs.
She cried out, raw and shattered, clinging to him as he thrust again, and again.
No finesse, just need. His mouth was everywhere, her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, kissing and biting like a man starved.
“Like fucking salvation,” he snarled against her skin.
Her body trembled around him. Pressure mounted, fast, sharp, unbearable. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “Eiran,” she gave in a broken gasp.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered fiercely. “Let go for me.”
Their eyes locked, wild, needing, and he saw it, the tight coil ready to snap.
“You’re close,” he whispered, voice low and guttural. “I can feel it. Let go for me, love.”
His hand slid around her, gripping her arse tight and she cried out, head falling back, her whole body clenching around him.
“Good girl,” Eiran murmured fiercely. “Come for me, let me feel you.”
Maeve shattered, brutally and entirely. A cry ripped from her throat, raw, broken and animal, as her body pulsed around him, dragging Eiran into his own climax.
He drove up into her one final time, deep and hard, roaring as he came, hands gripping her like he was anchoring himself to her body, to this moment and then the world broke apart.
A sound like thunder cracked through the air.
Magic tore between them, not summoned, but unleashed, wild and ancient.
Drawn from blood, bone and bond. It burst in jagged pulses from where their bodies met, every movement stoking the storm until it tore through the room.
Their magic collided, then fused. Light flaring from their skin, not gold, not white, but living, shot through with molten silver and deep crimson.
It was starlight bleeding into fire. Sigils spun into the air, drifting like breathless incantations, every symbol burning with brilliance. The floor hummed beneath them. The very stone of the bath vibrated with power and the walls of the Cottage groaned in answer .
Threads of light snapped into place, searing across their bodies like silk laced with lightning.
Runes branded into skin, too old for language and too sacred for sound.
They didn’t just glow, they claimed, the air bent as time fractured.
The magic didn’t seal them, it wove them, and still, Eiran didn’t let go.
Maeve collapsed against him, weak, gasping, her body twitching in the aftermath.
He caught her, arms wrapping around her like she was the most sacred thing he’d ever touched.
The magic still burned between them, quiet now, but alive, countless more threads snapping into place, invisible and irreversible.
The air trembled and the stone walls quivered with a low hum.
Maeve’s skin flushed with warmth, not from water, but from magic weaving into her blood.
She could feel it inside her, him inside her, it was an echo that would never leave.
Eiran’s voice came again, low and raw. “I felt you,” he whispered. “All of you.”
Maeve still clung to him, dazed as the last of the energy arced between them, a final flare of brightness that pulsed outward, shaking the Cottage before vanishing into stillness.
She trembled as Eiran’s fingers kept stroking her, gentle now, grounding, drawing aftershocks from her body like he never wanted the moment to end.
“I’m yours,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m yours.”