Page 66 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

She rocked her hips forward, pressing herself against his cock.

It was not enough to satiate the yearning deep in her center.

She ached for it, to feel it sliding against her—into her.

Even if she’d had her fair share of partners, there was never this sort of desire, like she would die if she could not feel him.

Like there was an emptiness in her that could not be filled unless it was him.

“Face the mirror.” Aziel spoke against her swollen lips, kissing her again before he finally released her. Nymiria reluctantly slipped off of his lap, turning around and facing her reflection.

She saw herself in that dazed state, but she was not ashamed at what she saw. Her white hair was tousled and wild, small curls feathered out and framing her face. Her swollen lips were just as red as her cheeks, and those moonflowers and their vines were glowing.

Aziel appeared behind her in the mirror and though she could not see the work of his hands, she could feel them as they traced over the ribbons that held her into her dress.

With the quick glide of his fingers, he slipped the knots free, her corset loosening more and more with each tug and pull until it was falling away from her torso completely.

The shift underneath was hardly flattering, but he did not seem to mind.

His eyes were not focused on that—they were homed in on her face, watching and waiting for her reactions.

“Do you still feel brave?” He asked.

Nymiria nodded slowly, suddenly finding it hard to swallow.

It was hard to breathe in that damned corset, but even harder to breathe now that it was gone because his hands were now moving over her shoulders, slipping the small capped sleeves of her shift down her arms. “What’s the mirror for?” She asked.

What a stupid question.

“It felt a bit selfish that I was the only one who got to see you like this.” He whispered, pressing a small kiss against her shoulder.

She shivered, those words alone causing a soft sound to rise from her throat.

“And I never want you to forget what we look like when we can just be us.” His hands began slowly removing her skirts.

Layer by layer, they fell to the floor. And when she was left standing in nothing but her shift, his hands began lifting it. Slowly. Too slow.

“No glamours.” He pressed another kiss to her neck.

“No daggers.” Another kiss, his fingers curling around the hilt of her blade and slipping it from its sheath.

She had no idea where it landed, but the solid thunk of metal hitting the floor made her jolt.

“No pretending.” By the time he lifted the fabric completely, Nymiria’s legs were shaking against the urge to squeeze them together.

Anything to alleviate the steady pulse between them, that was too much to ignore.

He moved in front of her, blocking the mirror from view before lifting the flimsy gown over her head, knuckles grazing every dip and curve of her flesh along the way. When he tossed the fabric to the floor, his eyes did not leave her face.

She trembled against him, her breathing and heartbeat so loud and erratic that the world felt as if it was starting to spin.

She felt the slide of rough hands against her breast, the pads of his thumb catching on the peak of her nipples before slipping down to her waist. A heavy silence stretched between the two of them.

Nymiria expected to be more nervous, but even when his eyes landed on the scar on her stomach, she didn’t recoil from him.

Even when his fingers moved over the raised flesh, tracing over the collection of circles she’d tried so hard to conceal over the years, she didn’t move.

His fingers moved away from the scar, then to the three located at along her spine, and now tracing over the designs he’d made upon her skin, trailing over leaves and flowers until he reached the the apex of her thighs.

She shivered with each brush of skin, never moving her eyes away from the look of wonder he wore on his face.

He looked at her as if she were a work of art. Though parts of her were disfigured with scars, those shameful patches of skin did nothing to deter the sheer lust she saw in his eyes. It was as if they were not scars at all, they were just… pieces of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked. Nymiria immediately shook her head, her thighs clenching at the feeling of him twitching against her. “Nymiria, I am very close to doing things to your body that you… please, tell me what you want me to do.”

Heat flared through her body, her breaths hitching and her mouth going dry. “I want this. I want you."

It had to be what caring for someone felt like.

Before his frantic thoughts could change his mind, Aziel leaned forward.

The kiss he placed upon her neck was soft, just the brushing of lips against skin to test. When Nymiria laced her fingers through the silken locks of his hair, Aziel brushed his nose over the column of her neck.

He felt the way she arched into him, the way she threw her head back in approval.

He moved his hands, weaving them into her hair and holding her in place as his tongue darted out to taste the luminescent flesh.

Sweet. Like the nectar of life, like a driving force that could inspire the most hopeless of fools to keep going—she was sweet.

His kisses trailed over the throbbing vein in her neck and then back down to that place that had her trembling against him all those weeks ago. Nymiria gasped, her threaded fingers pushing him closer to her, begging for more. “Aziel.”

Nymiria’s legs parted, welcoming him between them. Aziel’s lips did not leave her skin. He continued his torturous movements, trailing over her shoulders and her collarbones, sucking and nipping in places that had her pushing her breasts up into him.

The rough fabric of his tunic scraped over the tender peaks, her mind going entirely blank when he thrust against her clothed sex.

His groans of satisfaction, the way his hands moved over her torso, gently caressing each part of her that was available was something that should have been a sin.

And perhaps it was. “Do you know how badly I've wanted to do this?” He whispered, licking between her breasts.

“How many nights I've only been able to dream of how your skin feels against my lips? What your moans taste like on my tongue?”

Nymiria could not understand much, but she understood that.

And when his mouth closed over her breast, his teeth and tongue working over the rosy buds, his name was like a prayer upon her lips.

She clutched his shoulders, lifting her head just enough to watch him as he made a map of her glowing flesh, of the designs of his making that he’d branded into her.

He devoured every inch of her torso, his tongue and lips claiming every inch.

His cock ached, throbbing and twitching against the confines of his trousers.

And though he had every desire to sheath himself inside of her and claim her body until she would want nothing or no one else, he restrained himself.

He wanted her to know it—to feel what it meant to truly worship something.

Aziel closed the distance between their mouths immediately, muffling the soft noises that rose to the back of her throat.

Nymiria felt the swelling of desire all over again, the wet heat that pulsed between her legs begging for something to fill it—to ease the aching emptiness that had formed there.

She moved her hips, lifting them against the hard ridge at the front of his pants.

His hand moved between them, pressing against the inside of her thigh and spreading her wider, caressing the supple flesh until his hand moved over her mound.

He let his fingers brush over her, swallowing thickly at the part of her lips, the arch of her back when his finger moved down the slit of her sex.

Feeling her, the wetness against his finger, pulled a moan from deep in his chest. His thumb brushed over her peak, moving in slow circles.

Nymiria’s body felt as if it’d been struck by some intangible force, the muscles in her stomach and thighs quivering with each brush of his finger.

The moment a low mewl sounded from the back of her throat, something inside of him snapped.

The gentle and cautious touches were gone, replaced with an aching hunger, an intense sense of depravity that he hadn’t experienced in his life.

Still rubbing her in circles, Aziel slipped a finger into her dripping center.

Her body reacted perfectly—her hot, wet walls clamping down on him.

Nymiria moaned, gripping at the sleeves of his shirt as she raised her hips.

“More,” she panted. “More, please.”

He smirked and moved over top of her, fulfilling the desire to taste her pleasure.

The same moment he pushed another finger inside of her, he covered her lips with his own, swallowing the noises that begged for release.

He moved slowly at first, watching as she matched his thrusts with the sinful rolling of her hips.

Nymiria drew him back to her, kissing him so deeply that he could feel it in his fucking soul.

He pulled away from her, still pumping his fingers, curling them against her walls.

Her sounds grew louder, her breaths more frantic.

And, fuck, when she rose up from the mattress just enough to watch the work of his hand, his cock pulsed so harshly that it made him flinch.

“If we keep going, I’m not sure that I’ll be able to stop myself.” He whispered it onto her temple, both of their gazes locked on the scene before them. The sounds of her arousal filled the darkened room, her voice an added melody that made for the perfect duet.