Page 62 of The Deathless One (The Gravesinger #1)
He flashed her a feral grin and then snapped his hips forward. Deeper. Harder. He stared into her eyes as he praised her. “Look at you, witch. You take me so well, so deep. Never felt like this.”
“It’s been two hundred and seventy-five years, Elric.”
“Never,” he emphasized, wrapping his arm underneath her hips and arching her deeper. “Only with you.”
Tendrils of shadows rolled over her body. They wrapped around her wrists, holding her in place for the others that played over her breasts, coiling around her clit and rubbing hard. She moaned, an orgasm spiraling higher and higher.
“Elric,” she cried out.
“Again, nightmare.”
“Elric!” This time it was a scream as her entire body clenched around him, squeezing so hard around him that he jerked to a halt inside of her.
But she made sure she kept her eyes open so she could see him curl into her.
So she could see the way his eyes squeezed shut, and he clenched his jaw on a long groan.
The sensation of him coming inside her, seeing the way it affected him, sent her spiraling into another earth-shattering orgasm.
She clenched even harder and then tried to breathe through the sensation.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, lifting her in his arms until she straddled his hips. “Fuck, you are perfect.”
She breathed him in, holding on to him a little harder as it all hit her that he was here. He was real. This wasn’t just her who could touch him, but everyone. He was a god who had come to life, all because of her.
“You’re here,” she whispered against his sweat-slicked shoulder. “You’re really here.”
He held on to her a little tighter. “For better or worse, you resurrected a god, Jessamine.”
She still didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing, but at the moment she didn’t care.
She adored him. Was obsessed with him. Couldn’t manage if he was far from her because he’d stripped her completely out of her body and turned her into this wild and wicked witch who wanted the world on its knees.
And she liked it. She liked all of it.
Biting her lip, she nodded firmly. “We have work to do after this, and I think I’m going to need you with me. Really with me.”
“Is that so?” he said with a chuckle, leaning back enough so that he could feather his fingers over her jaw. “It feels so much better to touch you like this.”
She smiled, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness. “Different from what you thought?”
“Better than I hoped.” He trailed his fingers to her collarbone, following the hollow and shadows there.
She arched into him as his hand moved to cup her breast, then slowly traced down the lines of her stomach.
“I have yet to taste you here, and I intend to spend hours doing so. You are no longer entirely mortal, Jessamine. You’re connected to a god. ”
“Why are you warning me about that?” she asked, breathless.
“Because I don’t know if a person can die from coming too many times.” His eyes darkened. “But I intend to find out.”
She blinked a few times, trying to clear the haze of passion and desire for a few moments so she could see where they were. She looked to the right as his mouth came toward her. While he busied himself with kissing the long line of her neck, she asked, “Where are we?”
“Cave,” he murmured.
“Cave where?”
“Near the manor.”
“Oh.” So they were.
The cave was rather clean, and there were carvings on the wall that suggested witches had been here before.
Protective runes and piles of furs that had rotted in the years since someone had last been here.
It was unseasonably warm, though, and she wondered if there was a hot spring nearby.
Because the air was humid, sticky, and warm enough that she didn’t mind being completely naked here.
She looped an arm around his neck. He was already hardening inside her, and the sensation was rather distracting. “You can shadow walk?”
“Something like that. Where shadows are, so can I be.” He bit her hard where her shoulder and neck met. “Do you wish to talk more or can I enjoy the feel of you?”
“You may enjoy the feeling of me in a few moments.” But she reached between them, her fingers squeezing around the thick width of his cock so she could shift up and down, just a few strokes to tease the both of them. “Callum’s memories.”
“Dismal, I imagine.”
“Yes.” He pushed up into her, leaning back on his palms from where he knelt with her in his lap.
Spreading his legs a little wider, he forced her to spread on top of him.
His eyes didn’t move from where he impaled her, other than to flex his thighs and move just a bit more. Watching himself enter her.
What was she saying?
Right. “He worked closely with a courtesan who frequented the courts. A cousin of mine. She always hated me, and I could never figure out why. Turns out she was sleeping with the man I was supposed to marry.”
“Add it to the reasons we’re going to kill him.”
“Exactly.” She braced herself on his thick thighs. “They call her the Poppet Keeper, but her name is Fortuna Beaumont. She’s the next person we need to find. She’s the closest to Leon Bishop, and she’ll know everything. How he killed me, who worked with him—and how to take him apart.”
His hand framed her neck again, squeezing her throat with a straight arm that flexed with powerful muscles. He pushed into her lazily, the rhythm as teasing as it was maddening. “You want to kill him with me, feral thing?”
“Yes,” she moaned. “I want to destroy the world with you.”