Page 35 of Fallen Stars
He thought he let out an actual sigh when he walked down a rolling bank and saw the river again. It was exactly the same as those days ago, the water silver and swirling. Just a toe, he’d dip in. That was all. He craned his neck over the water, trying to see what memories rolled beneath the surface. He saw flashes of gold and brown, saw a gnash of teeth, a hand, and without another thought, stepped in up to his waist.
The water swirled over him, whispering and murmuring as it took him to another place and time.
Enzo was gunning for a fight. That wayward, insufferable princess had wound him up so much that he needed a sparring session with Leo, and he needed it now.
He’d spent all day with Elara in the Angel’s Graveyard, trying to train her, and had she shown an ounce of gratitude for the precious hours he had wasted? Apparently that was a ridiculous thing to ask.
He stalked down the palace corridors, wondering if this was just how he would walk now, hunched over in a constant state of irritation over that spoilt brat they called ‘royalty.’
He swung his door open with vigour, wanting to change immediately out of his sand-ridden clothes. Clothes that she had touched.
He hissed through his teeth as he stripped. He didn’t even want to think about how she’d duped him, how that Dark-worshipper had poured her illusion over him and crawled between his legs, that damn plait grazing his navel.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he sank onto his bed, only his trousers on, the shutters half drawn to keep out the afternoon Light.
Why did his trousers feel so fucking tight? And chafing. With an impatient tut, he shimmied on his bed, trying to get rid of the sensation.
Elara was entitled. Sarcastic. Too comfortable with him. Enzo was used to women adoring him, and Elara… The first words out of her mouth to him had been an insult.
She was also withdrawn, calculating. Enzo wore his heart on his sleeve, emotions splayed for the world to see. Elara… She concealed hers behind veils and shadows, only the quirk of those pillowy lips or the glint in her eye tells of her true feelings.
Pillowy? He groaned as he felt his already semi-hard cock twitch. An image flashed through his mind of them, petal pink and pouting. What was it Leo had said once? That the colour of a woman’s lips matched the colour of her nipples?
His cock swelled further, straining in his trousers, and he groaned. He was thinking about her nipples now? What the fuck?
He passed a hand over his face, desperately trying to ignore his growing erection. This enchantress, she must have cast some kind of dark magick on him. Because why in all that was holy, was he thinking about his enemy’s fucking nipples?
He took a deep breath, trying to will his hardness away.
Think about…sand, his mind supplied.
Okay, sand. Sand was good. Sand was gritty, uncomfortable, annoying. He nodded, eyes still closed as he felt his blood cool a little. Sand was grimy and hot. And it had covered Elara today, had trailed down her midriff, had caught in her hair…that plait…that had trailed down his stomach…
Fucking hell. He was harder than he had been before. Because of some grains of dirt?
His blood was thrumming now, and he knew irrevocably that he was going to have to do something about this…situation.
He sighed, shifting further up his bed, as his hand trailed down his abdominal muscles.
He tried to picture another woman, starting with Raina. But every time her face came into view, he screwed his eyes. Chestnut hair was making him grimace, her delicate, girlish laugh grating.
And then of course, another laugh permeated his thoughts. A dirty one that promised within it all the things she knew and could hold against him.
A harsh breath left him as he opened his eyes, able to see the outline of what Elara’s laugh was doing to him. He forced himself to shut the memories down one last time, to banish her from his mind.
But he was coated in her now, image after image searing onto his mind, to the point that his hand moved of its own free will.
One thought slipped through his defences, one that wondered how she’d taste. Like light-warmed cherries, he bet—sweet and dark. Another continued the fantasy; he’d taste her on his knees, her legs spread wide as he licked her from front to back. He’d make her sit over him, bury himself in paradise, and stay there until he needed to come up for air.
He shook his head, even as his hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Enzo had never knelt for a single person in his life, not even his father.
And yet…the idea taking form in his mind, of him on his haunches as he sank his teeth into Elara’s soft thighs and wrung out drops of pleasure from her with his tongue and fingers, had the blood pounding to his hardness.
He pumped it once. Imagined how Elara would sound as she moaned. Ashemade her moan. It would be throaty and rough.
He groaned again, the feeling of his hand barely satiating what was building in him. He slid his thumb over his head, the wetness already coating it sliding over the pad.
He imagined her hips grinding with his, how warm and wet she would feel as he slid into her, as he clenched his hand back and forth over himself. His breath began to come in short pants, his eyes still closed as images played over and over, of her back arched and that raven hair wrapped in a fist as he took her, of her sighs and how her body would look without a stitch of clothing over it.