Page 89 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

I ground into his hand, chasing the pleasure my body was primed for. “I’m going to make you come around my fingers. You’re going to gush over them so when I stroke my cock again, it will be completely soaked in you. But you’re going to do it quietly, so the whole camp doesn’t hear.”

“Yes,” I agreed immediately. He added a third finger, spreading me wider. A moan, recklessly loud, clawed up my throat.

“Those sounds you make are downright sinful, Assyria. There’s a reason I don’t want anyone else to hear them.”

He circled my entrance, spreading me wider.

“You’re so tight. I need to loosen you up again before you’ll be able to take all of me.” His fingers curled against that spot deep inside.

“Whatever it takes to make it fit. I just want it. Want you. Need you,” I panted as he drove me closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

A low laugh rumbled from him. “So greedy. Do you need to be reminded how to ask nicely? It seems you’ve forgotten today.”

He ceased all movement, and I made a noise of protest. “Please, Rokath. I need to be filled. Claimed .”

“That’s better,” he said. His fingers worked faster this time, his thumb drawing circles over my sensitive bud in a way that sent my walls clenching.

My head dipped back as I was lost to the pleasure he delivered. My hips moved of their own accord, and he spread my legs wider so he could work them deeper. “Oh, yes,” I hissed as he hit the perfect spot.

“Come for me, Assyria.” He flattened a hand over my mouth, bowing me across the desk. “Drench my fingers.”

My center fluttered at the starved look in his eyes. I nodded against his hand. He dug the heel of his palm into my clit. “Only for me. Because you’re mine .” The way he uttered his possession of me was my undoing.

With a cry muffled by his hand, I shattered . “Rokath,” I whimpered, though he couldn’t hear me. He didn’t stop, not even as I became so sensitive I backed away from him. Every drop of pleasure wrung from me was a victory to him.

With a growl, he released me, allowing me to heave in air. True to his word, he wrapped his wet hand around his dick and stroked. It shone in the light after only one swipe. Then, he yanked me to the edge of the desk, the hard wood digging into my lower back as he threw my legs up on his shoulders.

Planting a kiss on the inside of one ankle, he lined up with my entrance. “Since you were so good and coated me so well, I’ll give you my cock.”

When he pressed into me, it wasn’t simply to fuck—it was a ritual, one only he knew how to perform.

“More. Harder,” I begged. Then, I hurriedly added, “Please.”

“That’s more like it.” The deeper he went, the more my body coiled tight. He was so fucking thick. Every nerve inside me was alight with pleasure—it was impossible not to be with how he stroked every single one of them.

“Fuck, the feel of you,” he groaned. “How I want to worship your cunt every moment of every day. There are simply not enough hours to accommodate how long I want to spend inside you.”

When he bottomed out, I sucked in a sharp breath.

My hamstrings ached from the position, but it was the type of exquisite pain that heightened my pleasure.

Rokath moved his hands to them and massaged, loosening the aching muscles for me.

“I’m going to break this altar from how hard I’m going to fuck you. ”

“Do it,” I shot back, my tone all breathy need.

He retreated, then slammed his hips into mine. The slap that echoed around the space clashed with the one after that, and the one after that, as he drove into me. One hand pressed into my lower belly, pinning me in place. The other wrapped around my neck.

“Tell me,” he commanded, his tone making me grip him.

I knew exactly what he wanted to hear. “I love you, Rokath,” I moaned as he circled his hips. The legs of the desk scraped over the ground as he slammed into me. “I belong only to you.”

We jerked backward again, and stars exploded in my vision.

“You belong only to me.”

This time, his thrust was accompanied by a low, animalistic rumble. His brows pinched. His mouth opened and he dragged in air. Sweat slicked his forehead and torso, dampening the backs of my legs as he pounded into me, harder, faster.

The edge of the desk smacked against the wall, and I gripped the sides of it in a desperate attempt to remain on it.

Rokath yanked my arms overhead instead, pinning my wrists against the wood and allowing me full use of my lungs once again.

“I command all your pleasure. It is by my will that you come.”

I nodded, breath hitching as he bottomed out. My walls tightened with each pass, gripping him hard enough that he swore.

“Fuck, Assyria. You take me so well. Made for me,” he managed to grit out. Pleasure engulfed our bond, drowning all other emotions save for one—love.

Our eyes locked. Rokath had me at his utter mercy. I clawed primal sounds from him simply because he was inside me.

It was a dichotomy of power.

It was amorous hate.

It was mollified violence.

It was agonizing pleasure.

All of it was the eclipse of us.

“Please, I need to come again,” I pleaded, the desperation in my tone disregarded. “But I want you to come with me. At the same time.”

We’d forever be a single soul in two bodies, but if our ecstasy exploded at the same time, we’d be as close to one as we could ever possibly be.

And I wanted nothing more than that in that moment. With everything we were risking, with everything that came next, I needed this with him.

With my mate.

“I’ll fall apart without it.”

Rokath nodded, agony in his eyes as he sensed that vast longing, that sharp fear rising within me. “Lose yourself in me. I’m not going anywhere.”

He dragged himself over that deep spot inside, tearing a gasp from my throat.

“That’s my good girl,” he growled, hips slamming into mine. The force of it crashed the desk into the wall. He switched his grip from my wrists over my head to my hips, dragging me to the edge again.

“Now come for me.”

He drove into me, so fast and so hard I had no other choice but to cry out. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“Bite your hand,” he commanded, and I shoved my fist into my mouth, trying to stay quiet when I was so close to shattering.

Then, a crack sounded, and the ground rushed to meet us. Shadows burst from him just in time to cushion our fall, but he didn’t stop fucking me for a second.

He knew I needed this. I knew he did too.

I barely registered that we were now on the rough-threaded rug as my entire world became the place where Rokath and I joined. His cock throbbed inside me, and my walls offered the same rhythm. I whimpered again, brows pinching as the sparks of pleasure fanned into a full blown inferno.

“So. Close,” Rokath gritted out, his fingers gripping me to the point of bruising.

The pained expression he wore, the ecstasy flooding our bond, and the sight of him giving me everything fractured me. With a cry, my orgasm ripped through me, burning up every thought, every worry, every reminder that we were fighting for something larger than ourselves beyond these walls.

I bit down so hard on my knuckles that I drew a hint of blood. Rokath’s hardness pulsed inside me. He groaned—deep, feral, destroyed—and came. With a harsh jerk, he pulled out. My pussy ached at his absence. Hot cum gushed over my stomach.

Dizzy and pleasure-drunk, I lay beneath my mate. Salt slicked our skin, and air burned our lungs. Blinking, awareness returned to me. Something sharp dug into my shoulder. I tilted my head, registering the chaos and fractured furniture.

“Oops,” I giggled, pressing the back of my palm into my mouth to stem the flow.

Rokath shook his head and shoved off the ground. His muscles flexed deliciously with the motion, and I wanted nothing more than for him to bury himself inside me again so I could claw at those carved peaks and valleys.

Instead, he reached down and hauled me upright. After a moment’s consideration, he swept my legs out from under me and carried me into the bathing chamber. “Can’t have you stepping on something and being out of commission for our next fight. Need you there.”

The sentiment spread warmth from my scalp to my toes.

Rokath opened the taps for the tub. I slid down his sweat- soaked body and stepped into it. Despite the small size, he joined me, pulling me into his arms.

“I needed that,” he admitted, brushing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I can’t lose you.” My voice cracked. Even after everything—the battles, the late nights spent reshaping the realm, the small moments between—that fear still had its claws buried deep.

It didn’t matter how powerful I had become in my own right.

How I’d united my sex and forced the males to accept us.

How the mythos of us had spread like a wildfire.

If Rokath died, I wouldn’t merely grieve. My soul would be shattered into a thousand tiny shards. Each would rip up my chest and leave me breathless. I’d be broken, bleeding, and desperate to join him in the next life.

His heart hammered against my cheek, and I clung to it. Because it meant he was alive. Still here. Still with me.

Because the Angels were out there. Watching. Waiting. Plotting.

Who knew if or when we’d snatch a moment like this again.

All I knew was that if he fell, I would follow.

There was no him without me, or me without him.