Page 67 of The Sol Crown (Fractured Lights #1)

I press kisses to the trail of skin leading to his cock, licking a slow line up the shaft, but before I can take him into my mouth, he grabs my arms and yanks me to my feet.

“Not tonight, baby.”

I pout but forget the thought entirely as he lifts me and tosses me onto the bed. I bounce, breath caught, my clit throbbing at the display of brute strength.

He stalks forward, and I fall back, legs parting instinctively.

He starts at my feet, kissing the arch, then my ankle, pausing to lick a small scar from an old injury.

His mouth moves up my calf, then the inside of my thigh, until he buries his face into me, breathing deep as he peels off my last item of clothing.

“Fuck, Red. I can smell how wet you are.”

A blush spreads across my chest. He grins when he sees it.

“Beautiful.”

Then his mouth finds me.

The first lick sends a shock through my body. I grip his hair tight, gasping as he devours me with obscene skill. His tongue slides through me, circling, teasing, then sucking hard.

“Mine,” he growls, voice rough against my skin.

“Yours,” I choke out, and something inside him snaps.

He groans like he’s starving, licking, sucking, biting—owning every inch of me. When his fingers plunge inside, I detonate. My body clenches around him, wild and wanting.

But it’s not enough.

I reach between my legs and drag him up, desperate. He kisses me, messy and consuming, and I taste myself on his tongue, sucking it into my mouth.

“My greedy girl.” He chuckles darkly, fingers tangled in my hair.

“I need you inside me,” I moan.

Before I can kiss him again, he flips me onto my stomach.

“Grab the headboard, baby.” His voice is like a whip. I obey instantly, gripping the wooden posts with my shaking hands.

He leans over my back and presses a kiss to my temple—gentle, loving—then wraps my hair around his fist, once, twice, pulling until my back arches and my neck aches.

“Now be a good girl,” he breathes into my ear, “and don’t let go.”

I bite my lip, trembling.

His hand slides between us, spreading my slick before he lines himself up. Then he thrusts in, hard.

We both moan, the noise loud and raw, echoing around the room. The fullness at this angle is nearly too much, so deliciously painful.

He starts to move, deep and punishing, dragging my hips back onto him with every thrust.

“Such a good girl,” he groans. “Taking all of me like that. Fuck, Red. Look at you—dripping down your thighs for me.”

My grip tightens on the wood as he pounds into me, faster, harder. The bed creaks with every movement, every deep stroke hitting something explosive inside me.

“Stone—Gods—I need—”

“I’ve got you.”

His fingers find my clit and pinch. Just once.

I shatter.

Everything explodes. I lose time, space, sense. I’m gone, trembling around him, crying out as he keeps moving, chasing his own high.

When he comes, it’s with a broken groan, spilling inside me, collapsing just enough to rest against me without crushing .

He slowly uncoils his grip from my hair, then gently tucks it away from my face, brushing kisses across my cheek, my temple, the corner of my mouth.

“You okay?” he whispers, watching me closely. “Too rough?”

Although I don’t have the strength to speak. I just manage, “You were perfect.”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Perfect, huh?”

He presses a kiss to my shoulder, then pulls a blanket over us, tucking me in and combing through my hair with his fingers.

“Go to sleep, Red.”

I’m already drifting, and at his words, I fall into slumber.

* * *

I wake on my back, Stone’s fingers tracing my jaw, pausing at the hollow of my throat.

“Mine,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and something darker.

The blanket slips down as his fingers slide over my skin, slow and reverent. He peels it off entirely, dragging his touch down my chest, my belly, and the insides of my thighs.

He kisses a line from my neck, down my collarbone, over my breasts. His thumbs roll over my nipples until they harden, and I gasp.

“You’re the one who’s perfect,” he murmurs.

His lips take mine, slow and deep. Then he moves between my legs and pushes into me, slow and thick and overwhelming.

This time, it’s different. This isn’t frenzy.

It’s worship.

He moves slowly, holding my gaze as he fucks me with aching purpose. His hands roam, gripping my thighs, my hips, brushing my hair back, like he’s memorising me.

“Say my name,” he demands, his voice a rasp against my throat .

“Stone,” I sigh in pleasure.

He groans. “The number of times I imagined that sharp tongue moaning my name.”

He thrusts again, deeper, and I swear I see stars.

My body responds, every touch, every kiss a testament to the desire binding us. There’s no rush here, only this slow, sweet fire that leaves me breathless, trembling, utterly his.

When we come together, it’s with a shattering tenderness, a release so pure it binds us in a way words never could. He collapses on me, skin warm against mine, small kisses on my lips.

And with him still inside me, our bodies chest to chest, we fall asleep tangled together.