Page 93 of Fractured Fate

His tongue ran across the tiny bud, flicking in a way that made her pant and reach into his hair. When she pressed harder, he bit her nipple, and a hitched cry escaped from her mouth. The flat of his tongue chased the sting to soothe the tender flesh.

His mouth moved from her nipple and across the expanse of her breast, kissing and sucking in random spots until she tugged at his hair.

“Harder,” she demanded.

Who was he to deny her?

When he sucked the side of her breast into his mouth, he latched on with his blunt teeth at the same time, making her back arch off the bed as she yelled into the darkness of the room.

Lifting his head, he looked at the pretty pale skin lit by moonlight. An angry red and purple welt shaped like an eclipse painted her skin. There was no mistake what left that mark. No mistake he had marked her.

A piece of that pain piercing his chest fell away.

Sliding down her body, he showered her skin with kisses, licks, and lingering bites.

He’d never seen someone so fair before.

In the daytime, her skin held a soft pinkness beneath the surface; beautiful and delicate, like petals in a milk bath. But her skin under the moonlight reminded him of the fresh fallen snow he’d seen from his window one night on vacation in the mountains when he was younger.

Ethereal. Haunting.

She had him under her spell, and the more he lavished her body with attention, the deeper he sank into depths he didn’t know if he could return from. Was the solstice meant to change his life instead? This felt life changing.

“I want you,” he murmured as his lips ran across her navel. “Please let me have you.”

He didn’t recognize his own voice.

Never had he felt the desire to beg. But the desperation to lose himself inside of her tore at the core of his being, demanding satisfaction.

Her answering moan set his blood on fire.

His teeth sank into the soft flesh of her belly, not quite breaking the skin. She squealed, choking on a half-moan, half-sob.

“Please, please,” she mewled. “More.”

Rising to his knees, he unraveled the red bow at her waist. Unwrapping a gift made for him.

As he tugged down the tiny sleep shorts, his earlier suspicions were confirmed. Not a scrap of cloth underneath. He laid his head back between his shoulders with a groan. If he didn’t calm down, he would embarrass himself.

He’d never felt this way before. Never felt such an intense burning need to be connected this way to anyone.

When he lay the soft cotton aside, he lowered his mouth to the delicate, soft flesh beneath her belly, kissing a line from one hip to the other. Her curves were a wet dream come to life. A petite waist with full, rounded hips begging for his fingers to mark them.

His chest rattled with the needy, untamed sound he made as he looked down on her, tugging off his own athletic shorts and boxer briefs. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t like the idea of her wearing his marks on every single inch of her body.

“Aiden,” she whimpered at the loss of his touch. The sound of her need for him made him dizzy.

His hands found their way to her skin immediately, the soft, pliable flesh yielding to his rough caress.

Charlotte seemed to like it when he wasn’t gentle. Liked when his worshiping kisses turned into devouring bites. Her moans, and the soft sounds she made when he tightened his grip on her hips, dragging his hands down her thighs to squeeze, made his balls draw up tight.

He intended to taste her. To see if her arousal tasted like the potent sweet blend of pineapple, vanilla, and buttery brown sugar that permeated his sinuses with every heavy breath he took. But he couldn’t.

If he didn’t get inside of her now, he didn’t know if he would survive.

“Please,” he rasped, his engorged cock pressing against her thigh, leaking and marking her skin.

She hadn’t finished nodding her consent before he was already gliding his shaft over the dampness of her slit, coating himself to make it easier on her when he slid inside.