Page 29 of Kiss of Embers
When he added a third finger, I arched my spine. “Now. Give it to me.”
He didn’t ask questions. Just lined up and pushed inside. I bore down, riding out the burn until it slid into a fullness that rolled my eyes back in my head.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “More.”
He leaned over me, his chest flush against my back, and rained soft kisses over my nape. “You’ve got everything,” he murmured, tracing serpentine patterns on my skin with his tongue. “Don’t you feel it?” He pulled out and then rammed into me, drilling my gland like an arrow punching into a bullseye.
Stars burst behind my eyes, which was how I realized I’d squeezed them shut. I opened them now, and I twisted around so I could glare at Struan.
As soon as I saw his face, I lost the battle to be firm. He was in his happy place—literally—and it showed in his sparkling eyes and soft smile.
“I should keep you on the edge,” I told him. I’d done it before, letting him thrust inside me until his orgasm boiled up, only to make him pull out at the last second. I’d brought him to tears.
But he didn’t cry now. Instead, he snuggled me against him and closed sharp teeth over my ear. “I’ll tell you what youshoulddo, Finn. You should let me fuck you. Which is what you asked for. Which is what I’m going to do right now.” And he did, plastering his body to mine and drilling me so fast and hard I couldn’t catch my breath long enough to form a response.
But it didn’t matter because anything I might have said disappeared, washed away by overwhelming pleasure. Struan pinned me, his harsh breaths fanning over my nape and shoulders. Sweat formed under my chest, until I was slick enough to slide on the table.
I reached a hand back and dug my fingers into his hip, wordlessly ordering him to go faster. He obeyed, and the slap of skin against skin warred with our mingled grunts and moans. His heavy balls smacked my taint. He scooped his arm under the leg he’d pushed onto the table and shoved my knee higher. The new position changed the angle of his dick inside me, his fat cockhead nailing my prostate over and over.
“Fuck,” I ground out as the table rocked beneath me. “Fuck, I’m close.”
Struan hauled me up, banding an arm around my chest and clamping me against him. He dragged my thigh off the table and then fucked me onto my toes, his thrusts rattling my teeth. My cock bounced wildly, slapping my stomach as Struan continued his punishing rhythm. Sweat poured off me. My muscles tightened, my body trembling on the edge of an explosive release.
Even in his frenzy, Struan pressed his lips to my neck. “Need to come, Finn. Let me come.”
“Go ahead.” I gripped my flailing cock and stroked.
Struan cried out. A second later, he came on a roar, shaking as he flooded me with seed. His release tripped mine, and I spurted into my hand and all over the table. My ass clamped hard around Struan’s dick.
“Gods,” he grunted, shuddering as he squeezed me against him. We came down together, both gasping for oxygen. I held my flaccid cock and tried to remember how to spell my name.
Struan kept his arms around me. Swaying in place with his dick still lodged deep in my ass, he buried his nose in my hairand trailed a line of soft kisses down to my ear. “She left,” he said in Gaelic.
I stilled, straining for any noise that might indicate Zara was still nearby. But Struan was right. She was gone, returned to her tent and the gargoyle—who had the potential to be a problem. As if Struan and I didn’t have enough of them.
A growl rumbled in my chest.
“Don’t worry,” Struan said, brushing his lips over my neck. He kissed my thundering pulse. “We’ll start winning her over tomorrow.”
I turned in his arms, letting his cock slip from me. The jungle outside the tent was still, with no sign of eavesdroppers, but I spoke in Gaelic anyway. “We have to win the elixir too. And hope she doesn’t hate us for taking it from her.”
Intensity shimmered in Struan’s blue eyes. “We’ll win.” He smoothed a callused thumb over my cheekbone, mimicking the caress I’d given him moments before. “We’ll claim the elixirandour woman.”
A sigh lifted my chest. It seemed Struan and I had switched positions, and now he was unbothered by our challenges while I’d taken on his worries. But that was often the way of things between us. We shared each other’s burdens.
“Do you think we should try to talk to Bolveg?” I asked. Most likely, the demon had returned to his own plane for the night. But I’d visited the Vozga Kingdom before. I could channel there and speak to Bolveg face to face.
Struan took a moment to answer. “No,” he said finally. “If Ashcroft or the gargoyle get wind of it, they might cry foul. The demons have worked with us in the past. And you can bet Bolveg is thinking about the role they played in keeping Queen Isolde from us for three centuries. Bolveg won’t be looking for another reason to make enemies of King Cormac and Niall. I say we let the Rules Committee make the right decision.”
It was sound logic. Still, there were no guarantees. “I hope Bolveg is as smart as you think he is.”
Struan smiled. “This isn’t about intelligence. It’s about fate.” He gave me a quick, hard kiss on the mouth. “We’re dragons. Fate saved our people once. Now, it put Zara in our path. Everything will work out tomorrow, Finn. I know it. Fate doesn’t make mistakes, right?”
Struan looked so confident, it was hard not to feel the same way. So I shoved my worries aside as I went in for another kiss. Fate hadn’t led me astray when it led me to him. I had no choice but to trust it knew what it was doing this time around too.
When Struan and I were both breathless, I rested my forehead against his. “Right.”
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