Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1185(@200wpm)___ 948(@250wpm)___ 790(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1185(@200wpm)___ 948(@250wpm)___ 790(@300wpm)
Nothing mattered then. Not Veses. Not the hurt. The pain. The ugliness. Not how close Reaver had come to death. Not what saving him would do, or how close I was to the Ascension. I didn’t think about anything as Nyktos’s hands went to my hips to steady me. He consumed my thoughts and my body. This did. Us. I gasped when I felt the broad head of his cock, easing through my wetness and pressing into me. I clutched his shoulders. Nyktos trembled, holding himself still as I lowered myself, moaning against his lips between kisses. The pressure, the burn was exquisite. His fingers pressed into the flesh of my hips as I took him, inch by decadent inch, to the hilt. I panted as I held myself still.
He felt…gods, my head fell back. He felt like we were made for each other.
Nyktos’s arm encircled my waist as he buried his hand deep in my hair, clasping the nape of my neck. He drew my mouth to his. “Fuck me,” he ordered.
This was one of those rare moments where I was more than happy to obey.
I lifted, slowly retreating before lowering myself once more. My ragged cry got lost in his harsh groan. The friction of our bodies moving, and the full impact of him, as deep as he could go, nearly undid me. I moved, slowly and steadily, my pace matching that of his tongue.
I moved faster, rocking and grinding against him, clamping down on him. There was no rhythm. No more kisses. Just our shared breaths and pleasure as my knees dug into the hard floor.
“Fates,” he groaned harshly. “Nothing—nothing—feels like this.” His hips punctuated his words with a deep thrust. “Nothing feels like you.”
I shuddered because he was right. Nothing felt like this. I could spend an eternity searching for it, but I knew I would come up empty-handed. Because it was him that I rode. He who was inside me. And that made me even more desperate to capture this moment somehow.
My fingers tangled in his hair. The arm at my waist loosened. His hand slipped under the fluttering hem of my nightgown, splaying across the center of my ass. I rubbed my chest against his. Nipped at the skin of his throat, tasting the salt there. I moaned as he dragged my mouth back to his. We kissed, his fangs clashing with my teeth. Our lips swelled. Our bodies shook. His fingers dug into the flesh of my ass as he pulled me down on him, harder with each plunge. We feasted on each other. Devoured. All my tiny inner muscles began to quiver, clenching him. I was gasping with pleasure. He was snarling with it. And all of this…
All of this felt like more.
Nyktos pulled me tighter against him, holding me in place with him deep inside as he moved to his knees and then drove me onto the floor. His hand remained around the back of my head as he pounded into me, creating a shield between me and the hard surface. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I took all of him as he thrust deeper, harder, faster until the only sound was that of our bodies coming together.
I cried out as he pulled my head back, exposing my throat. His fangs grazed my pulse and then pressed in. Nyktos shook. He didn’t break the skin, simply held his fangs there, and that was all it took. I exploded, shattering into silken shards of pleasure that dragged him over the edge and into the storm with me. Nyktos came with a roar against my throat, his body buckling as he spent himself.
His weight settled on me as spasms of pleasure rolled through both of us. I still held on to him, my fingers lost in his hair, my nails pressing into the skin of his arm, and my legs still wrapped around his, still slowly rocking my hips. Our breathing was ragged, slow to calm, and his fangs…
They were still at my throat.
My belly fluttered, and I tightened on him, drawing a hoarse groan from him. “If you need to feed,” I whispered. “You can.”
Nyktos’s hips went still, but I felt him throb inside me. He just didn’t need to. He wanted to. And I wanted to feel the pleasure-pain of his bite. The deep, languid draws. I wanted him at my throat, my breast, and between my thighs, sucking me, taking from me as I took from him. I bit my lip, moaning. His fangs scraped my skin, and every part of me trembled.
Nyktos shuddered and then eased back. “I can’t. I won’t,” he panted, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. “I do not deserve this. And I sure as hell don’t deserve that from you.”
Chapter 39
Nyktos’s private quarters were a lot like his office and his bedchambers—a wide-open space outfitted with only the necessities. A large, oval table sat before doors leading to a balcony on a raised dais framed by two shadowstone pillars. Several chairs sat around the table, and I wondered how often he held meetings here. Two high-back chairs were seated by a credenza stocked with decanters of various sizes. I didn’t spy any of that radek wine. The only other piece of furniture was the thickly cushioned couch I sat on.