Page 134 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

“Lyr,” he groaned into my mouth. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He slid his fingers through my folds, exploring, teasing. He looked down to where his hand vanished beneath my pants then back to my face, watching my reaction with each new touch and stroke, as my hips rocked up against his hand, my stomach rolling in waves. He moved toward the bundle of nerves at my center, and I started to pant, reaching for his face to kiss him again. His fingers rolled back down my center with a lazy stroke before making tight circles around it.

He pressed down, squeezing, one finger stroking right through, and I bucked, mewling in response, my heels digging into the bed. His hand felt so much better than my hand had, so much better than anything.

“Like that, partner?” he said, voice hoarse. “Right there?”

I tried to say yes but only managed another whimper, feeling heat rush through my entire body.

“Shhhh.” His lips spread into a seductive grin as his fingers slid lower, cupping me, the callouses on his palm massaging the bundle of nerves. “Remember. We have to be quiet.”

My hips jerked up, rolling and pushing against him, seeking more heat, more friction.

“There you go,” he crooned, pressing me back down into the bed. “Ride my hand.”

I threw my head back, my back bowing off the bed as I arched. The coil of pleasure between my legs tightened and expanded with every thrust of his hand against me.

“Is this how you touched yourself?” he asked. “Is this what you did when you thought of me, when you had me so Godsdamned wild, I had to fuck my hand for you?”

“Yes. And I imagined you…just like this,” I cried between breaths.

“Show me,” he growled. “Show me how you made yourself come.”

My core was throbbing beneath his touch, pulsing so deeply, it was almost too much. I slid my hand down over his, pressed him against me, and moved him in tight circles.

It was so good, so good. I was squirming, pushing my body closer to his, feeling his erection press into my side, his own hips thrusting forward, rocking against me.

“Are you…?” I asked, realizing he was on the edge without even having been touched.

His forehead pressed to mine, as he circled my center again and again. My hips rose and bucked. Our breath mixed. I was losing control. I was no longer guiding him but digging my fingers into his hand as he brought me closer and closer to the edge until a frenzied scream started to rip through me. His mouth clamped down on mine, swallowing my cry, as my body shook with my orgasm.

Rhyan kissed me through it, muffling the sound before he pulled back, watching me. The shivers running through my body finally stopped. My legs fell open and collapsed on the bed.

I slid my hand up his arm, holding him tightly as my heart hammered through my chest. Sweat beaded my neck and forehead.

Rhyan still cupped me, stroking me softly, his touch soothing, before he released his hand, glistening with my arousal.

He kept his eyes on me, dark with his desire, as he slid his hand down his pants, fisting himself. His eyes shut as his arm moved, his bicep flexing, stomach taut. I watched, mesmerized as he moved, his muscles glowing beneath the candlelight. His hips jerked, and I cupped his face, kissing him as his entire body tensed, swallowing his growl with my lips.

Sweat curled his hair as he lay back, his eyes still closed. He opened them, as he turned to face me on the pillow, a satisfied yet mischievous smile spreading across his lips. “Always making such a mess, partner.”

A blush spread across my cheeks, but I pushed his hair back from his forehead. “I thought that was supposed to be about me.”

His chest heaved. “Apparently, I like it a lot when it’s about you.” He shook his head, still grinning. “Give me a second to clean up,” he said, hopping out of the bed for the bathroom. The faucet turned on, and by the time it was off, he was back under the covers with me, having traveled across the room.

He gathered me into his arms, pulling the blanket higher around us. “How are you feeling now?”

“Like jelly,” I said. “Physically exhausted. Good.”

“Good.” He pushed my hair off my shoulder, dipping his fingers in the back of my shirt—or, rather, his shirt that I’d stolen. His fingers returned to making lazy circles at the nape of my neck and between my shoulder blades. “Do you need anything? Water?”

I shook my head, content to just lay there, my arms wrapped around him.

“You know something?” he said. “You look just as pretty as you sound. I think I could watch you do that every night for the rest of my life and never tire of it.”

“Hmmmm.” I buried my fingers in his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. He arched into the touch. “I can say the same for you. Maybe next time, I can do the same for you.”

His eyes darkened. “We can arrange that. When you’re ready.”

I snuggled closer to him, our legs entwining, my body more relaxed than it had been in days.