Page 147 of The Last Stitch

I screamed.

Not from pain—there was none. Only a fierce stretch, a fullness so complete it stole every ounce of air from my lungs, and a surge of energy that ripped up my spine in bright, stuttering bursts. It felt like my body detonated around him, pleasure and magic flaring at the same time until everything inside me went incandescent.

The threads reacted violently.

Silver and gold burst outward in a blinding shockwave of light, then whipped back around us, binding tighter, pulsing hard enough to rattle the lantern hook above our heads.

August froze.

Every muscle in his body locked, trembling with the effort not to move. His head fell back, throat bared, jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack.

“Christ—” he choked, the word torn from him in a ragged gasp.

Just that one sound, raw and shocked, sent another wave spiraling through me.

When he finally looked down at me, hair disheveled, lips parted, eyes blown wide with disbelief and hunger, the expression on his face stole whatever breath I had left. He looked undone. Astonished. Devastated by pleasure.

“As if I could’ve survived wanting you any longer,” he rasped.

Then he moved.

Hard. Deep. Shuddering. As if that first thrust had shattered the last piece of restraint he’d ever had. His hands clamped onto my hips, dragging me into every pounding stroke, and I met him with desperate, shaking abandon.

Magic crackled around us. The threads tightened. My nails raked down his back. His breath broke on every thrust. And the tent filled with the sound of two people coming completely, irrevocably undone.

“Yes,” I gasped, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist. “August, don't stop. Don't you dare stop.”

A broken sound tore from his throat. “Mine,” he snarled against my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “Say it. Say you're mine.”

“I’m yours,” I sobbed as he drove into me again, striking a place so deep and devastating that stars burst behind my eyes. “Always yours.”

August’s breath broke. Then he bit down on my shoulder—hard enough to brand, to claim—and the shock of it detonated through me. My climax tore free with a scream, my body gripping him so tightly he gasped against my skin, cursing through clenched teeth.

The threads reacted instantly.

Light spiraled in wild arcs above us, gold and silver flaring like a storm made of fire, and somewhere beneath all that bliss—beneath the magic wrapping us in a blinding cocoon—I understood with perfect, terrifying clarity: This was what it meant to be wanted by a man who would burn the world before he ever let me go.

“That’s it,” he growled, voice so wrecked it was nearly unrecognizable. His rhythm never faltered. If anything, he thrust harder, deeper, like he craved the way I was falling apart for him. “Let go, Lily. Let me feel you come undone around me.”

His words pushed me into a second shattering—raw, helpless, overwhelming—while the threads tightened around our bodies like fate itself had decided to bind us together.

But he didn't let me recover. Didn't give me a moment to catch my breath. He flipped us—a blur of motion and supernatural strength—until I was straddling him. His hands on my hips pulled me down as he thrust up into me.

“Take what you need,” he commanded. “I want to watch you.”

I braced my hands on his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath my palms, and began to move. Slowly at first—rising until only the tip of him remained inside me, then sinking back down in one slow, torturous glide that had us both gasping.

From this angle, I could see everything. The flush spreading across his chest. The cords of muscle stood proud in his neck as he threw his head back. The sheer masculine beauty of him laid out beneath me, undone and wanting.

“God, Lily—” His hands clamped around my hips, trying to guide me faster.

“No.” I caught his wrists and pressed them above his head, leaning over him. His eyes flew wide—surprise, yes, but hunger too. That deep, dark hunger he’d tried so hard to hide.

“My turn.”

I rolled my hips in slow, deliberate circles, savoring the way he groaned beneath me. The delicious drag of him inside me made my toes curl, made heat pool low and deep. I set the pace I wanted—slow, then deeper, then harder—until pleasure coiled tight in my belly like a drawn bowstring.

“Please—” His voice broke on the word, his hips thrusting up helplessly. “I need⁠—”