Page 28 of Fate

Firen swallowed, his touch shifting just a little. Dipping inside, she realised. Teasing her. “Because...” Her breath hitched. “Because I take care of you. And you will take care of me.”

He hummed again. Not an argument. Which was good. Very good.

She had not ignored the pages on female anatomy entirely. She knew how they would fit together. Knew he was touchingsomething just at her entrance that made her breath coming in tight little sips, her heart racing to keep in time. “You don’t...” she insisted, thinking of the way he’d stopped her, of the pleasure he’d denied himself for reasons she could not quite name. “That is, we should...” She angled her hips slightly, trying to encourage him to join with her. Together was better, wasn’t it? Together was thepoint.

“Hush,” Lucian murmured. “Let me prepare you.”

Prepare? If he knew he was ready, then surely she could declare the same. That the aching, clutching feeling in her insides meant she wanted—that sheneededhim. But maybe there was something she’d missed in all her reading. Some pain he meant to keep from her with his dedication. Some consideration that she would be rude to ignore.

It was easier to say yes when he kissed her shoulder. When his mouth returned to her breast. When she grew distracted over what exactly he was doing down below because it all tumbled and churned into a thrumming tension. It made her shift and squirm, and even to tug at his hair as he continued to kiss and...

He licked her.

Just the once, across the flat of a nipple that had never known much use before. He turned his head to gauge her reaction. Which... which did not make sense to her in the least. Because that was a silly sort of thing to do, and yet...

He did it again. Lingering. Making patterns in her skin that perhaps were words, perhaps were symbols. Blessings? She couldn’t be sure of anything at all. Other than she did not want to stop. Did not wanthimto stop.

There was an urgency building in her. A craving that was not satisfied. Not by his dipping fingers that stretched and then retreated. Not by his ministrations to her breasts. The bond was a quiet sigh within her chest, but there was the memory—the reminder that there was more. That while he was pleased withher, pleased to pay her such attentions, it was not shared. Not in the same way.

“Can I be ready now?” she asked. As if he would know when it was her body. Her reactions.

She was met with a chuckle, and this time the kiss was to her lips. “If you like.”

But it wasn’t her hand that stroked and steadied him, it was his own.

And there were no more touches to her breasts, not when he was using the other to hold her open, to ease the way, to pause and halt when first he breached her. His breath was taut, the muscles in his neck equally so.

Patient. For her.

Because...

It stung.

Not fiercely, but a warning that she should not be too exuberant, not encourage him too quickly.

And he was looming, and she didn’t like it. He felt too far and too close all at once, and maybe she should have kept out of it entirely and let him tend to her and to him, but...

She reached for him instead.

Brought him back down to her. Which shifted matters considerably, and she felt him enter a little more fully. But it did not bring more pain—instead, it brushed against that portion of her he had found with his fingers, and her breath caught.

And her hips shifted.

And he was the one to hiss.

Which was a rather satisfying sound. When she had the bond to assure her he was all right and she had done nothing terribly wrong after all.

It was her turn to hum. To pull him as close as she could, and if she brought her legs just so, shifted and made room and clutched him to her, then the feelings spread. Honed. Until shegasped lightly and was rewarded with his groan. Of knowing they were as close as two people could be, and that...

That was glorious.

Perhaps they had some matters to sort out between them, but this would not be one of them. Not when he moved just so, when her pleasure amplified his. And his made hers feel safe and sweet. That she could touch as she liked, that she could rub at his arms, could find that spot between his wings. That she could do nothing at all and simply enjoy the feel of him as he moved over her. Treasure each of the kisses he placed on her cheeks, her lips. The way he curled his fingers into hers and his motions became more purposeful.

Stroking. Pausing. Settling deep and letting her body hold him still as her own muscles contracted in ways no diagram had managed to relate.

She did not want it to end.

She wanted to live in this moment. The belonging, the sweet tension. The knowledge thatsomethingwas about to happen, and she wanted it. Needed it. But also... didn’t.