Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
The thing that might be between us—that pull I refuse to dignify by calling it anything else—flares, hot and bright, threading from my chest to his. My fingers curl into the sheets to keep from reaching for him first.
“Legend.”
“Yes?” His hand slides higher, palm flattening just beneath my ribs, pinning me with no effort at all.
“This doesn’t feel very ‘rest and recover.’”
“Disagree.” His mouth lowers, brushing the corner of mine. “You relax best when you’re beneath me.”
“Cocky,” I breathe, but my lips are already tilting toward his.
“Confident.” His smile ghosts against my mouth. “Let me take care of you,” he repeats. Something inside me that’s been braced for impact since the moment I arrived in Rathe…eases.
I let him.
He kisses me slow, nothing like the frantic, teeth-and-claw kind of contact we’ve had before. His tongue traces the cut on my lip as if trying to soothe it from the inside. His hand slides to cradle the back of my head, holding me in place like I’m something precious instead of a weapon that keeps accidentally going off. When I sigh into him, the sound is embarrassingly soft, and he swallows it like it’s his favorite thing he’s ever been given.
His weight settles more fully over mine, careful not to crush, but solid enough that I can feel every inch of him. He’s all heat and strength. His pulse beats against me like a wild drum. My fingers find his shoulders, then his hair, dragging him closer.
“Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me if—”
“Shut up,” I mutter, dragging him back down. “If you stop now, I’ll stab you.”
He laughs into the kiss, the sound low and unrestrained, and then there’s nothing but dizzying pleasure that has my body forgetting any pain. He removes my knife from my boot. I wait for my defenses to kick in and demand I fight back. Protect myself.
It never comes.
My chin lifts and my limbs spread wide of their own accord. He doesn’t hesitate, chest rumbling as he slices his way up through my clothes, leaving them to fall open around us.
My boots stay on and nothing else.
The weight of him settles fully between my thighs, and I inhale sharply, hips lifting before I can stop myself. His answering groan vibrates against my lips, rough and hungry. He kisses down my jaw, the scrape of his teeth dragging a shiver straight through me.
“I should have been there,” he rasps, his cock sliding deep inside me. “You shouldn’t have been alone.” He pulls out, pushing in again, even slower this time.
My back bows and he leans down, licking across my chest.
“I can’t stand being away from you, little monster.” His hips roll and my nails dig into his back. “You’re mine, Haide. Mine to protect, and I failed you tonight.”
“Legend,” I warn, body already trembling.
Why does the tone he’s using make me ache?
This is supposed to be sex. Raw.
Reckless.
It’s…I don’t know what it is but I need it to stop.
I need it to stop, yet my fingers curl into his shoulders, drawing him closer, guiding without words. And the second I do, his mouth crashes into mine again in a kiss that’s sure to split my lip back open. His hands slide under me, lifting my hips into his, and the soft drag of friction steals every coherent thought I have left. Still, he fucks me slow and steady, and it’s the sweetest fucking torture.
“I’m going to come inside you now,” he whispers, lips lifting when he feels my pulse start to pulse. “And you’re going to come all over my cock at the same time, ain’t that right, baby?”
“Shut up.”
“Come.”
It’s like he’s speaking in command and my body decides to obey.
I come hard. Long, and his eyes eat up the sight.
After a few minutes, he pulls out and falls onto the bed beside me.
I pull in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Sweat cools my skin, my muscles now loose in that rare, floating way that only comes from a good orgasm.
Guess Legend was right.
My head lolls to the side, spotting the faint smear of blood on his lip where I bit him a little harder than necessary.
“Oops,” I say, not sorry at all.
His thumb swipes the red away and he grins in a satisfied way that makes my stomach do something stupid. “My favorite kind of wound.”
“Pervert.”
“Your perv,” he counters, voice already thick with oncoming sleep.
The last thing I remember before the dark takes me is the weight of his arm banded around my waist, the steady rise and fall of his chest at my back, and the strange, terrifying comfort of knowing that if anything tried to touch me in this moment, he’d burn the world for it.
When I wake, the room is dim.
My head feels clearer and my body less like someone’s favorite punching bag, though dull aches still whisper from my ribs and shoulders.