Page 56 of Ashborne Phoenix

And sure enough, he tensed under me, and his breath grew shallow again.

‘Are you sure?’

I nodded. More than sure. There was urgency, suddenly. As if we couldn’t know how much longer we’d be alone. Thoughts of the night before sent my belly into spasms, remembering all the ways he’d held me, had me, needed me.

And my own desire roared to life again, with his hard thighs under my seat… and hard other things against me.

‘Are you blushing?’ he asked, delighted.

Unwilling to answer in case he teased me for blushing at the thought of his handle, I held his gaze and leaned in, closer and closer, his eyes growing wider until I brushed his lips with mine, then teased under his top lip with the very tip of my tongue.

Neither of us moved or breathed. I tried to think of something worldly and womanly to say, something to entice him to let himself loose as he had the night before—but I was still scrambling when the soap and washcloth plopped into the water behind me, and his hands suddenly appeared at my face, cupping my jaw, his fingers curling into the nape of my neck as he pulled me into a deep, searching kiss.

My breath rushed out of me, and I sank into him, breasts flattened against his chest, my body languid in the heat—but the shifting of my weight brought me up hard against his steel and my breath caught again.

Then he sat up further with a splash, leaning me slightly back, deepening the kiss. I wrapped arms around his neck and hung from them, let him take the rest of my weight, and got lost in that kiss, aware only of his mouth on mine, his breath rushing against my cheek, and the promise of that pressure between us.

I lost all track of time as his hands began to roam over my body, pulling me close one moment, sliding between us the next.

He turned his head, tilting to take the kiss deeper, and I followed him, my breath ragged, hips rolling, still uncertain in this position which we’d only used once or twice before, but eager to continue to discover all the ways.

Then his hands landed on my hips and pressed down, pinning me to his thighs as he ground against me. I pulled out of the kiss, but held him to me, sucking in at the burst of pleasure that coursed through me.

“Grace, are you s—”

“Yes!”

With a low moan, he lifted me by the hips, with such strength, I startled and squeaked—but he tipped his head back, smiling, locking eyes with me as he pulled me against him, then lowered me again, sliding me down his body and—oh dear Lord in heaven, yes!

My head fell back as he stretched and filled me and my breath caught, a ripple of pleasure and anticipation crackling from where I took him, through my body, to sensitize my nipples and raise goosebumps on my thighs and back.

There was a splash and ripple of water as he pulled his knees up behind me, then leaned me back against them, urging me to relax, to arch, and let him take my weight.

And so, I did. Spine bent backward over his knees, my breasts pointing for the ceiling, my thighs wide and hands gripping his neck to pull myself against him, my jaw fell slack.

Then, with a low rumble in his chest, Voski curled forward and sucked one nipple into his mouth.

The jangle of pleasure sizzled from his tongue, to where we joined, at the same time he thrust, holding me down. The water rippled and splashed, but I barely heard it over our ragged breaths.

And then I was lost in a world of pleasure and warmth and heated thrill. I could barely move except to lift or lower my head. He had me pinned between his thighs and his chest—except when he leaned back, jaw rolling, and his eyes hooded, but locked on me as he thrust quick and sharp, making my breasts bounce and making it nearly impossible for me to remain silent.

I clung when I could, and gave myself into his hands when I couldn’t. I forgot everything happening around us, aware only of the sunlight blazing through the high windows, and gleaming on our skins. And the way it was reflected in the heat blazing in his eyes.

I shivered and shook, whimpering, biting my lip, seeking that peak as he thrust and stroked. I trembled from the inside out, my body stretching, straining for that summit—like a prize dangling just above my grasping fingertips.

And then he sat back again, so I was splayed over his thighs, and one of his hands left my hip and slipped between us. As I sank onto him, he slid his hand down to stroke me with the pad of his thumb, and I shuddered, clenching on him, which only increased the pleasure.

My eyes rolled back and I let myself fall fully backward, gripping only his upper arms, my chin back, biting my lip as I tried to keep my cries silent.

“Come for me, beautiful,” he rasped below the level of the splashing, tinkling water. “Let go… I’ve got you… come for me.”

With every roll, and stroke, my body’s tension rose higher. My breath caught at the peak of each thrust, then eased out of me when he retreated, catching once more when he pulled me down onto him again.

I shook, losing my grip, beginning to pant when I breathed at all—and then, still stroking me, he curled forward again and opened his mouth over my nipple, sucking hard precisely as he thrust and stroked, and pleasure from all three sensations snapped through my body, to meet at the base of my spine, and explode.

“Vos—!”

He came off my nipple and crashed his mouth over mine, swallowing my cries, then stifling his own, groaning, and gasping, but never giving real voice as his body went rigid and twitched. We bucked together, helpless in the throes… and then he collapsed over me, pulling his hand out to wrap his arms behind my shoulders, still leaning me back, still moving slowly within me, his breath in hot bursts on my collarbone.