Page 83 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

“Is this too much? Do you want to stop?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious. “We can.”

“No, I don’t. I just….” I needed a moment to compose myself, to make my desire, my brain, and my mouth somehow work together. I exhaled sharply. Breathlessly, I asked, “Are you touching yourself—now—under your pants?”

“Not under my pants,” he said. “I had to pull those down…take myself out.”

My chest was rising and falling in rapid succession. “You’re doing that now? Stroking it?”

His breathing grew heavier. “Yes.”

By the Gods. I slid my hand inside my underwear and down my center. I was soaked.

“Are you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re so wet now, aren’t you?” he crooned.

“Rhyan!”

“Come on, partner. I know how you can get. I knew when I found your underwear in my bed.”

“Gods,” I moaned, my entire body heating.

“Hmmmm,” he said. “I thought about that morning so many times.”

“I did, too.” My hand pressed harder against my center.

“I thought about you in the shower right after. Had to relieve myself twice. And every morning after that.”

Twice? “What did you think about when you did that?”

“I thought about the way you looked underneath me, the sounds you made as we kissed, the way you gripped my ass and pulled me closer, grinding against me, driving me farther than fucking Lethea. Gods, Lyr. I wanted you so much, your hair in my hands, your tongue in my mouth, your soft skin filling all my senses.”

I lifted my hips into my hand, my heels pressing down onto the bed as I began to rock, rolling my hips up and down, pretending my hand was his hand, then his cock. It felt so good.

“Did you ever think about me?” he asked.

“All the time.” I rolled against myself, my fingers rubbing right over my core, circling. A moan escaped my lips before I could stop myself.

“Fuck, Lyr. Do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Make that sound. Please. I want to hear you.”

I made a small sound of surprise and pleasure. Then I breathed through my mouth, so turned on, my inner walls clamped together. Gods, the way he described that morning….

For a second, my embarrassment kicked in. Was I really doing this?

Yes. Yes, I was. This was Rhyan. Rhyan, who made me feel safer than anyone else ever had. Remembering that gave me the courage to let loose. To thrust against myself, to coat my fingers with my wetness and moan again, louder that time. And then again, even louder.

“Lyr, yes. Just like that.” Rhyan fell silent, his breaths heavy through the stone, and then I could hear the sounds one made when rubbing…when fisting a cock. I could hear his movements, hear them increasing in speed, hear the rustling of his blankets beneath him with every thrust into his hand. He was quiet otherwise, and I realized I didn’t want that. I didn’t want that at all.

“I want to hear you,” I said, and before I could stop myself, the words were spilling out. “I want to hear you moan. I want to hear you growl—hear the sounds you make as you take your pleasure and know that it’s all for me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Fair’s fair,” I teased breathlessly.