Page 30 of Returned to the Vissigroth (The Vissigroths of Leander #6)

He pushed me gently wider, and a slow, languorous sweep of his tongue gathered my slickness as if nothing in the universe existed but my taste.

He licked and licked, working slow circles around the throbbing nub.

When he applied light suction, I thought I would explode, but that was nothing compared to the searing shock when he slipped the flat of his tongue directly over my clit.

My hips bucked, and his hands held me down, the grip just shy of bruising.

He slid his hands—one palm cradling my thigh, the other anchoring my hip—and laved at me with an adoration that was almost unsettling.

I wasn’t sure if he planned to stop at all, or if he could.

I lifted my head to watch him, to see the male who claimed my body and my soul and every vanished rotation between.

Mallack looked up, dark eyes meeting mine from between my thighs, his mouth gleaming with me.

He smiled crookedly, that wolfish twist that said he knew exactly the effect he was having and was going to drag out every last shattered breath.

He switched to soft, flickering laps, each one slower than the last, until I whimpered, chasing every sensation.

His tongue left me for a moment, and he blew cool air over my heat, making me shiver and flood anew.

My hands scrambled for something—his hair, his shoulder, the furs—but nothing could anchor me but his relentless focus.

He pressed a kiss directly to my clit, then sucked—hard, then soft, then hard again, finding a rhythm that made me keen and shake.

When I thought I would die from the need, he slid one thick finger inside.

Slow at first, curling upwards as if beckoning a memory out of the dark.

It hurt, a tiny ache at the edge of pleasure, and then the ache became a fire.

His thumb worked slow circles, patient, methodical, and I arched up to meet every movement.

He hummed in his throat, a sound of pure satisfaction, and the vibration pushed me to the edge so fast I was incapable of speech, of thought.

Just a wet, desperate plea that I couldn’t form into a word.

He seemed to study exactly what made me unravel, and he added a second finger alongside the first. I gasped, my body almost unable to bear the fullness, the intensity.

He didn’t stop. He worked them deeper, curling and pulling, feeling for the secret places inside me that only he could know.

His tongue kept at me, unrelenting, and everything blurred into a single, blinding point of sensation.

“Mallack—” I tried to warn him, but nothing came out but his name.

He seemed to know, because his other hand came up, winding around mine, grounding me as I writhed beneath him.

He kept his black gaze on my face, watching me as I shattered.

There was nothing but his tongue, his fingers, his voice, calling me back as I came so hard I thought I must have screamed.

When my vision refocused, I was still panting and shaking. He crawled up beside me, gathering me in his arms, holding me tightly as I tried to remember how to breathe. His hand stroked my hair, my brow, the damp skin at my temple.

“I love you,” he whispered, reverent, raw.

I didn’t know if he was talking to the old me, or to whoever I’d become, but it didn’t matter.

I pressed my mouth to his shoulder, unable to say the words, but a storm of emotions inside me told me that I was losing myself to him, too.

I kissed his flesh, hoping my hot lips would convey the message to him.

The plea to keep being patient just a little while longer.

My hand moved to his hard length, moved up and down the velvety shaft, but he stopped me.

"Not tonight, my love. Not until you're sure it's me you want."

His voice was rough silk, threaded with desire, but there was also devotion and restraint. His hand trembled slightly as it brushed a stray curl from my cheek, even though his body was still hard beneath mine, all coiled tension and heat.

“But I am sure,” I whispered, breathless, dazed from the pleasure he’d just wrung from my body. “Mallack, I want?—”

He shook his head gently, a smile ghosting his lips. “You want to give something back. I know. I see it in your eyes.” He drew me closer and wrapped his arms around me protectively. “But I’ve waited twenty rotations to touch you again. I can wait a little longer.”

I pressed my forehead to his, feeling the thrum of his breath against my mouth. “This isn’t about memory. I don’t remember being yours, but I feel it. Like gravity.”

His eyes closed, a low sound caught in his throat. “I feel it too,” he admitted. “But I won’t take you when you’re still unraveling. I don’t want to be the moment you regret. I want to be the one you reach for when everything else makes sense again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, unexpected and overwhelming. Who was this male who worshipped my body and protected my heart like it was his own? Who held back, even now, when all he had to do was lean in?

He kissed my temple, then my cheek.

“When you’re sure,” he murmured against my skin, “I’ll be here. And when that night comes, I will thank the gods and gladly take what you offer.”

Tears stung my eyes as I wrapped myself around him, every inch of me melting into his warmth, and let the safety of that promise carry me into sleep.