Page 21 of The Demon’s Little Girl
LIORA
T he moment stretches between us, heavy with two years of unspoken longing and the weight of admissions finally voiced. His fingers trace my jaw with reverent touches that make my skin burn, and I can see my own desire reflected in the depths of his black eyes.
"Liora," he breathes my name like a prayer, and then, like his restraint has snapped, his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is hesitant at first—soft, questioning lips that press against mine with careful restraint.
As if he's afraid I'll bolt if he moves too quickly, too boldly.
But there's nothing gentle about the fire that ignites in my chest, spreading through my veins until I feel like I might combust from the simple contact of his mouth against mine.
When I don't pull away—when I press closer instead—something shifts in him.
His hand slides to cup the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my curls as he deepens the kiss with devastating thoroughness.
His mouth moves against mine with growing confidence, tasting and claiming in ways that make my breath catch and my body arch toward him instinctively.
God, I'd forgotten this feeling. The electric thrill of being wanted, of having someone touch me like I'm precious instead of something to be used. Rovak's lips are softer than I'd imagined, but his kiss is firm and sure now that my response has given him permission to take what he wants.
My free hand finds his chest, fingers splaying against the warm expanse beneath his shirt.
I can feel his heart hammering against my palm, matching the frantic rhythm of my own pulse as his tongue traces the seam of my lips.
When I part for him, the soft groan that rumbles from his chest makes liquid heat pool low in my belly.
He tastes like amerinth and desire, dark and intoxicating in ways that make rational thought scatter. When his teeth catch my lower lip in the gentlest bite, I forget how to breathe entirely.
"Come here," he murmurs against my mouth, his voice rough with want. Strong hands span my waist, and then I'm being lifted, guided until I'm straddling his lap with my knees bracketing his powerful thighs.
The new position brings us flush against each other, and I can feel the evidence of his arousal beneath me—hard and urgent even through the layers of fabric between us.
The knowledge that he wants me this much, that I affect him the way he's always affected me, sends a bolt of pure need straight through my core.
His hands settle on my hips, fingers digging into my flesh with just enough pressure to make me gasp. "Is this?—"
"Yes," I cut him off, my voice breathier than I intended. Because whatever he's asking, the answer is yes. Yes to his hands on my skin, yes to the heat building between us, yes to feeling desired and cherished instead of broken.
When I rock forward experimentally, the friction against my most sensitive places makes stars burst behind my closed eyelids. Rovak's grip tightens, his breathing harsh as he guides the movement with steady hands.
"That's it," he encourages, voice low and rough. "Take what you need."
The permission in his words breaks something loose inside me. I roll my hips again, more deliberately this time, chasing the delicious pressure building with each movement. The seam of my leggings drags against sensitive flesh, and the hardness beneath me provides perfect friction as I move.
This is madness. Grinding against him like a desperate thing in the middle of his garden where anyone could see. But I can't bring myself to care about propriety when his hands are encouraging every movement, when his mouth finds the sensitive spot below my ear and makes me whimper with need.
"So beautiful," he murmurs against my throat, trailing open-mouthed kisses that make me shudder. "Do you know how long I've wanted this? Wanted you?"
His words spur me on, my movements becoming more urgent as the coil of tension in my belly winds tighter. The rough fabric of his trousers provides delicious friction, and when he rocks up to meet my movements, I cry out softly at the intensity of sensation.
"That's it," he rumbles, one hand sliding up to cup my breast through my shirt. When his thumb finds my nipple, already peaked and sensitive, I arch into the touch with a broken sound. "Let go for me."
The combination of his touch, his voice, the steady friction between us—it's too much and not enough all at once.
I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his scent as I move against him with growing desperation.
Every slide of my body against his sends shockwaves through my nervous system, building toward something that feels too intense to survive.
When his free hand tangles in my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head back so he can capture my mouth again, I come apart completely. The orgasm crashes over me in waves, stealing my breath and making my entire body convulse with pleasure more intense than anything I've felt in years.
I bite down on his shoulder to muffle my cries, my hips stuttering against his as aftershocks roll through me. His hands hold me steady, grounding me as I shake apart in his arms.
When I finally come back to myself, awareness returns in embarrassing clarity.
I'm straddling Rovak in his garden, having just climaxed like some desperate creature while grinding against him like we're teenagers stealing moments behind the stables.
The flush of shame that follows pleasure makes my skin burn for entirely different reasons.
"I should—" I scramble off his lap, legs unsteady as I try to put distance between us. "I need to check on Nalla."
It's a flimsy excuse and we both know it. Nalla is sleeping soundly, has been for hours, but I need space to breathe and think and figure out what just happened between us. What it means, what comes next, whether I've just made everything impossibly complicated.
"Liora, wait—" He reaches for me, but I'm already backing toward the house on shaking legs.
"I just need—I should make sure she's okay," I stammer, hating how breathless I still sound. How thoroughly I've just lost control of a situation I should have seen coming.
I flee before he can stop me, my body still humming with the aftermath of release and my mind spinning with the implications of what just passed between us. Because there's no pretending this was just friendly comfort or an accident of proximity.
This was desire, raw and mutual and completely catastrophic to the careful balance I've been trying to maintain since my return. And now that it is exploding I don't know what to do.