Page 148 of Anathema
Heat hit the center of my palm, a pulsing radiance that beat into my wrist, my forearm and elbow, to my shoulder and across my chest. I closed my eyes as the heat warmed my insides, the way Grandfather’s wine had felt whenever I’d had too much to drink. A pleasant buzz of energy that toasted my cheeks.
“Tell me how it feels, Maevyth.” His voice. God, his voice tickled my imagination, while that glorious sensation snaked through my blood.
“It feels … good.” The brevity of my words was the only shield to the carnal thoughts that corrupted my imagination.
“I’m going to give you a little more.”
“Yes. Please.” I opened my eyes to see his rapt gaze, the fascination in his intense stare.
Heat simmered and heightened, my muscles trembling, softening, yielding to the power that throbbed in my blood and muscles in erotic waves of pleasure. Lips parted, I tipped my head back as the ribbons of flame weaved in and out of my veins, as if it longed to touch every corner of me. Squeezing and releasing in slow and sensual contractions.
“A little more, okay?” His voice held a deep, husky timber, as if he were restraining himself, holding his power back.
Again, I nodded, my lids lowering once more. “Yes. It’s okay. Give me more.”
Another rush of burning heat flooded my body, like scorching lava, but god, it felt good. So good. Like the times I’d touched myself in the quiet darkness and my muscles had begun to lock up, trembling and warming with the promise of climax.
“Maevyth, are you okay?”
“Yes. Please. Don’t stop.”
His fingers curled into mine, and another round of fire blazed through me. “What are you feeling?”
The feverish tension between us turned ravenous and exhilarating, raking through me with sharp claws.
“Chaos,” I said on a choked breath. “It feels like chaos.” I clenched my teeth, my muscles taut and trembling as I clutched his hand, letting the power surge through me. A moan leaked past my lips, and I felt his fingers tighten on mine, crushing my hand.
When I opened my eyes, his hair clung to his damp forehead, where beads of sweat had gathered. The veins in his neck protruded, and he licked his lips, eyes intently focused on me.
I slowly dragged my tongue across my lips, and he raised his other hand, which I didn’t hesitate to clutch. “More,” I rasped.
The intensity of heat pouring through me had me tipping my head back, and I cried out, nails digging into his hands. “Don’t stop. Please. Please don’t stop!”
The heat snapped to cold as he released my hands.
I opened my eyes to see him stumble back a step, sweat pouring down his temples. Shallow panting breaths fluttered out of me, as I stared back at him, feeling as if we’d just gone to battle.
“What the seven hells are you?” he rasped through labored breaths. “Anyone privy to this loathsome curse would fear the flame, but you … ” Brow furrowed, he shook his head. “You revel in it like a drunken spirityne.” The trace contempt in his voice took me by surprise.
“I don’t know what happened. I was just?—"
He lurched toward me, clamped his hand around my nape, and crushed his lips to mine.
A shocked breath escaped me, captured by his commanding mouth and those full lips that consumed me with the delicious flavor of toffee, undertones of smoldering embers, and a hint of something warm and spicy, like cinnamon. Beneath those, the lingering traces of his liquor. A taste that brought to mind images of long, languid nights beside a slowly fading fire. An engulfing heat and damp skin. Wandering fingertips and wet tongues.
Whatever disdain he’d felt moments ago melted in the heat of his kiss.
I stood dumbfounded, lips parted, allowing him to exert his control as he devoured the air in my lungs between stinging nips of his teeth. A raw, aching need weakened my knees, while he kissed me with the assertion of a man who’d never been refused by a woman. One whose catalogue of dark pleasures rivaled the thickness of the book he’d studied moments ago. The way his tongue masterfully swept through my mouth and across my lips, teasing and taunting me, warned of dangerous passion. A man who could easily ruin me in one night.
“You are a fucking torment, Lunamiszka,” he said through clenched teeth, as if he were angry. With me? Before I could voice the question, he dug his fingers into my nape and dragged me in for another kiss, growling against my lips.
A peculiar sensation wound inside my chest, like strings pulling me inside of him. Stomach fluttering. Thighs trembling. A greedy hunger pulsed and throbbed between my legs on a rush of liquid heat. An intensity that stirred my nerves to life, quickly severed when his hand pressed against my throat, breaking the kiss.
I opened my eyes to find his chest heaving, a guarded expression on his face, like that of a cornered animal.
My lips burned with his assault, tingling with a craving for more of his kiss.
“What is this?” he asked, his ragged voice carrying a hint of bewilderment. Dilated pupils swallowed the gold of his irises, and his brows furrowed deeper than before as he thumbed his lip. “It can’t ...” His voice drifted off, eyes losing focus as he seemed to slip into thoughts.