Page 107 of Quicksilver

Not just his fingers. I wanted him inside me more than my pride would allow me to admit. “Fisher, please,” I panted. “I want...I want...”

“Don't worry. I know what you need.” He thrust his fingers deep, and I spiraled out of reality. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was a glittering black wind. The candles in Fisher's room were gone, all light extinguished, but the staggering power that poured from Fisher seemed to carry its own internal illumination. It was hard to understand—we were definitely still in Fisher's room. I could feel his bed beneath us. But we werealso twisting in a sea of black, floating on a void of nothingness. Sinking, falling, rising, and drowning all at once.

Wisps of iridescent smoke trailed up my arms, circling my wrists, stroking over my skin, so soft and seductive that I trembled under the contact. It was him. An extension of him, and it was everywhere. His mouth worked over me, his fingers coaxing me toward a steep drop that would claim me body and soul.

He wasn't going to stop me this time. He drew me to my climax with determination, a gratified growl of victory ripping from his throat when he pushed me over the edge.

This wasn't just an orgasm. It was an awakening. Cradled in Fisher's power, I felt his hands tighten on my thighs as I bucked and writhed, but I felt his shadows bind tight to me, too. They slid over me, pooling in the hollow of my throat and pouring over my stomach, whispering over my heavy breasts—a level of ecstasy I'd never experienced before. It was as though I was breathing him in, taking a part of him inside me—

“FUCK!” My eyes snapped open. Fisher was on his knees between my legs, the head of his cock butting against my entrance. His right hand found my hip. When his left hand found mythroatagain, a veil of shadows flowed down his arm and up my neck in a warm, heady caress.

My eyes started to roll back into my head. But then...

“Oh, no, Little Osha. You're gonna be lookingrightat me for this,” Fisher said.“Look.”He waited until I'd made eye contact with him again, then his hand moved up to my jaw. He held me almost tenderly as he said, “You still want it?” His chest, his arms, his defined abs; the deep grove that dipped over his hips, leading down between his legs: his entire body was a work of art. He took my breath away. The ink that covered his skin fluctuated as he waited for the answer he already knew I would give to him.

“Yes. I want it. I wantyou.”

His smile was pure, powerful male satisfaction. “Hold on tight then. I hope you're not afraid of the dark.” He thrust forward, slamming himself inside me, and Iscreamed.Not from the pain. There wasn't any. Only a stretching, and a fullness, and an awesome wave of energy that fired up my spine in a series of bursts that felt like small explosions. It was so much, all at once, that Ihadto scream.

As if he were experiencing something very similar, Fisher threw his head back, the muscles in his neck straining, his jaw clenched tight, roaring through his teeth.'Fuuuuck!”

Just one stroke. He'd entered meonce, and I was done for.

I was a ball of sensation, humming with energy. In the darkness, Fisher slowly lowered his head, his lips parted, hair mussed, and the dazed look of surprise on his face sent a rush of adrenalin powering through me.

Gods and Martyrs. I would never forget seeing him like this. If I did manage to make my way back home, the image of him like this, seated inside me, skin slick with sweat, chest hitching, would sustain me until the day I died.

Fisher.

Kingfisher.

Lord of Cahlish.

I hated him, I did. But you couldn't hate something without caring about it just a little, too.

“Witch,”he accused. “Youdohave magic.” He was so fuckingbig; his hard length twitched inside me, and my body answered in kind, tightening around him. His fingers gouged into my skin, digging deeper into my hips. With a mantle of black smoke swirling around him like a dark wind, he moved. Slowly, at first. The tendons in his neck stood proud as he pulled back and eased out of me just an inch. The smallest of movements drew him home. Again, he shifted, rolling his hips, working his cock a little deeper each time he thrust back into me. The pace he set wastorturous. I had well and truly stretched to accommodate him now, and the delicious friction building between us was quickly turning into a desperate ache.

“Please...” I reached for him like it was my right. His chest was warm and solid and perfect. Beneath my palms, the wolf tattoo emblazoned across his pecs came to life. The ink flowed beneath his skin, crossing from him to...to...sinners, it flowed along my fingertips, spreading over my skin, flowing just like his smoke over the backs of my hands. A delicate little bird took shape on the inside of my right forearm. It stretched its wings and took flight, its tiny body flitting over my stomach as its wings beat a thousand times a minute.

“Shit,”Fisher breathed. I pulled my hands away, afraid of more ink making its way over me, but Fisher just shook his head, grabbing one of my hands and putting it back on his flesh. He didn't say anything else. Didn't warn me if any more of his ink would come venturing over onto my body. He just drove himself deeper, slamming himself into me faster, relinquishing more of his control with each thrust.

“Magnificent,” Fisher rasped. He moaned as he palmed my breasts. His pupils had blown so wide that the black had swallowed the greenandthe silver. I was transfixed, unable to look away, as his hands explored my body.

When I'd first laid eyes on him, I'd called him Death. The likeness was even more pronounced now. This male possessed the power to end entire civilizations if he wanted to. I could feel it—a still, deep well inside him, its surface rippling as he grew harder and harder inside me. I would drown in that well. Sink down into the dark depths of it, never to break the surface again. And I would be glad.

I disintegrated into a million pieces, deconstructed and mindless as I came again. The only thing anchoring me to thewarm cocoon Fisher had created around us were his strong hands at my waist, and the rough edge of his strained voice.

“Gods and fucking martyrs. Holy fuckingshit.That's right. Come. Show me how pretty you are when you fall apart.”

I screwed my eyes shut, crying out wordlessly. Right as I crested the wave of my second orgasm, the stars painted across Fisher's bedroom ceiling ignited, flaring so brightly that their light burned my eyes even through my eyelids.

Fisher came hard, slamming into me. He roared out his release, and together the two of us shattered.

A rushing filled my ears.

My blood hammered right below the surface of my skin.

Dum, dum, dum, dum, dum.