Page 50 of Mane Attraction
Beneath the surface, a storm was building. Through their bond, she felt Lev’s simmering anticipation, a hum of need that vibrated right down to her core. It was a magnetic draw that made every step toward his private chambers feel both inevitable and agonizingly slow. She was sure he could feel the answering heat in her, the coiled tension in her own body, and a desire so sharp it stole her breath.
This is it,she thought.The final surrender.
The walls around her heart, her carefully constructed control, all of it felt like sand dissolving in a rising tide. He’d waited, respected her need for space, and now every cell of her screamed for him to claim what she was finally offering.
They reached the ornate door to his private chambers, and Lev’s hand was steady as he pushed it open, but the heat rolling off him was anything but calm. He guided her inside, and the door clicked shut with a finality that echoed in the vast, masculine space. The silence that followed was electric, thick with everything they’d denied themselves for days.
It lasted a heartbeat.
Then his control shattered.
He turned, and in one fluid motion, his hands were cupping her face, his mouth crashing down on hers with a desperationthat stole the air from her lungs. This wasn’t the tender kiss from the royal vehicle. This was hunger unleashed, a wild, claiming force that spoke of days of restraint, of staring at her across rooms and feeling her through the bond and not touching. It was a man pushed past his breaking point.
A ragged sound escaped her throat, half-gasp, half-moan. Her own composure evaporated, incinerated by the sheer force of his need. Her hands flew to his shoulders, digging into the fabric of his torn ceremonial jacket, pulling him closer.
Clothes became obstacles. His jacket was ripped away, her fingers fumbling with the buttons until he growled and simply tore it open, sending buttons scattering across the stone floor. Her own dress, the simple one she’d worn to the arena, seemed to dissolve under his touch. He peeled the fabric from her shoulders and let it pool at her feet, his gaze burning over her as if committing every curve to memory.
“Mine,” he breathed against her mouth, the word a primal declaration that resonated through the bond.
“Yours,” she gasped back, the affirmation a key turning in a lock deep inside her.
They stood naked before each other, the raw evidence of his battle in the arena visible on his skin—a few angry, red claw marks scored across his ribs and shoulder. Her gaze flickered to them, concern piercing the haze of desire.
“You’re hurt?—”
He caught her hand as it rose to touch the marks, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Just scratches,” he said, his voice rough. “Nothing that matters. Nothing that gets to keep me from you.”
The alpha command in his tone, the absolute certainty, sent a fresh wave of heat through her. His arm hooked behind her knees, lifting her against his chest as if she weighed nothing. He carried her to the massive bed, the one he’d told her no otherwoman had ever touched, and laid her down on the dark silks as if she were something precious.
Then he began to worship her.
His mouth was everywhere. He started at the pulse hammering in her throat, his lips branding a path down her neck and across her collarbones. Then he lavished attention on her breasts, his tongue swirling around one peaked nipple before drawing it deep into the heat of his mouth, his teeth grazing with exquisite care. She arched beneath him, her fingers tunneling into his golden-blonde hair, holding him to her.
“Lev…” His name was a plea.
He only growled softly in response, the vibration humming against her skin as he continued his descent. His hands smoothed over her stomach, her hips, a possessive mapping of territory that belonged solely to him. When he settled between her thighs, the first brush of his breath against her sensitive flesh made her jolt.
But he didn’t rush. This was a savoring. His mouth found her core, and he licked into her with a slow, deliberate rhythm that was pure, exquisite torture. His tongue traced her folds, circled her clit, dipped inside her, learning her taste, her textures, with a reverence that made her heart clench.
The intimacy of it was staggering—not just the physical act, but the flood of sensation through the bond. She felt his pleasure in the act, a fierce, possessive joy in giving her this. His love for her, raw and untempered, washed over her own rising need, amplifying it until it was a palpable force in the room, a golden heat that threatened to consume her.
She tried to hold on, to prolong the agonizingly sweet build, to restrain the wild climb. Her hips jerked, but his hands pinned her gently, holding her in place for his leisurely exploration.
“Xelene,” he murmured, the word vibrating against her flesh. “Let go. I want to feel it. I want to see it. Give me everything.”
His words were the final key. The last thread of her control snapped.
A cry tore from her throat as the orgasm crashed over her, a wave of pure, blinding ecstasy that rolled from the center of her being outward. Her body convulsed, her thighs tightening around his head as he continued to draw out every pulse and every shiver, drinking in her pleasure until she was limp, boneless, and utterly sated.
He lifted his head, his eyes glowing with a feral satisfaction. But as the aftershocks faded, a new, deeper hunger awoke within her. The immediate relief she’d expected was absent. Instead, the fire he’d stoked burned hotter, brighter, an insatiable need that the climax had only intensified.
But the realization didn’t frustrate her. It thrilled her. This bond, this connection—it wasn’t a finite thing to be satisfied. It was a living, growing entity, and this desire was its fuel. Every touch, every shared breath, every peak would only strengthen it and bind them tighter. The promise of a future where this only got better, stronger, more profound, unfolded in her mind, dazzling and endless.
The mattress dipped as Lev settled beside her, the heat of his body a solid, welcome presence. Xelene turned her head, her limbs still humming with the delicious aftershocks. The primal intensity in his gaze hadn’t dimmed; it had magnified, banked now into something smoldering and expectant.
“Get on top. Take what you need from me. It’s all yours now,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
A thrill shot through her, sharp and electric. This was a different kind of surrender, one of power and choice.
