Page 68 of The Last Hunt

She pushes back against him, searching for some kind of friction. They’re both still wearing the vast majority of their clothes and it’s frustrating. He doesn’t let her get any kind of relief, pinning her to the dash. She feels his teeth graze the side of her neck, his tongue flicking out against her pulse point sending fire down her spine.

Then Aethon releases Maeve’s arm and grips her hip. He pulls her up to stand, holding her body tight to his with one hand secured to the spot between her shoulder and neck, the other splayed across her lower stomach. He walks them two steps over and then presses Maeve up against the wall. He leans against her again with all his weight and Maeve lets out another moan of frustration, pleasure, and want. She braces herself against the wall, both palms flat on the metal.

“Or should I take you here?” he says. He props his chin on her shoulder and grinds against her, his hips hard and forceful. One hand slides down to squeeze her ass. “Should I leave a couple handprints behind, Bladesbearer? Claim what’s mine?”

“What’s yours?” Maeve replies with a growl. She can’t help herself. She has to see if he’ll meet her challenge. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Is that right?” Aethon says.

Then with rough, deft fingers, he undoes her belt and hooks his hands into her waistband, tugging her pants and underwear down to her knees. Maeve turns over her shoulder and watches as he undoes his own belt and fly, only shoving his pants down just below his ass. His cock juts from his body, hard and flushed, the tip already glistening. Before Maeve can take a full breath, Aethon shoves her against the wall again. He doesn’t waste time with any more foreplay. He grips the nape of Maeve’s neck, pressing her firmly against the wall, and then she feels the head of his cock between her thighs. She automatically cants back toward him. With a fierce thrust, he’s inside her. Maeve gasps at the sudden intrusion, the friction more intense than usual, just on the edge of pain. Her mind goes blissfully blank as her body is overwhelmed with sensation. Aethon is giving her exactly what she needs. He stills for a second, his cheek pressed against Maeve’s, their foreheads braced on the wall. Maeve can hardly breathe - he fills her so completely. His hand grips her hip bruisingly hard.

“This is mine,” Aethon growls into her ear. “This pussy is mine. Feel how wet it is for me?” He withdraws and then slams back in, and Maeve can’t deny him her mounting arousal. His cock slides into her easier now, her body responding to his. She can feel every inch of him like this. She groans at the overwhelming heat and size of him, and at his demanding insistence that she is his. That her body is his.

“Feel how hard I am for you?” he hisses as he grinds into her. “This is what you do to me.”

“Give me what’s mine, then,” Maeve says, her voice stuttering as Aethon thrusts into her again.

“It’s all yours,” he replies. “Maybe it always has been.”

“Fuck,” she chokes. “Harder.”

Maeve loses herself in the act. She feels everything. The tiny imperfections in the metal wall beneath her fingertips. The slide of her pants as they inch down her legs. Her feet arching as she goes onto her toes with every thrust. And Aethon. Aethon’s hand on her neck, her pulse wild under his thumb. His breath on her shoulder, his mouth open in gasping pleasure against her skin. His cock filling her again and again until she’s quaking at the brink of coming.

“Aethon -” Maeve chokes out. “I’m almost -”

But then he pulls out of her with a curse. “You don’t get to come yet.”

Maeve turns to face him, her mouth open in frustration and surprise. “What -”

“You asked me to fuck you,” he says, his eyes dark. “Actually - you demanded it. But we’re doing this my way. Now take your clothes off,” he orders. He’s already pulling the rest of his clothes off. His shirt falls to the floor, he kicks his boots off, and his pants and underwear quickly follow. In a second, he’s gloriously naked before her. All freckled, firm skin, scars, tattoos, and muscles. Maeve follows suit until she’s just as naked as he is.

“Good girl,” he growls. Maeve blinks in surprise as arousal shoots down her spine at his praise. She steps forward and raises a hand to touch his chest, but Aethon points to her captain’s chair.

“Sit,” he orders.

Maeve narrows her gaze. “What?”

“You’re not very good at following my orders,” he says. He grabs her hips and lifts her up like she doesn’t weigh almost as much as him, his shoulders and biceps bunching. Maeve yips in surprise and braces herself on his shoulders. Before she can either protest or wrap her legs around his waist, he puts her down in her captain’s chair. The chair comes up to her shoulders, and has wide armrests inlaid with buttons and screens. Aethon taps a few buttons and disables the controls, retracting the joystick back into the armrest as well. Then he grabs her knees and hooks her legs on either side of the armrests, splaying her wide open for him. The air is cool on her flesh, and she tenses automatically until Aethon leans forward and kisses her hard. He ducks his head and scrapes his teeth along one of her nipples, sending a wave of goosebumps over her skin.

“Beautiful,” he says, withdrawing. “Stay just like that for me.”

Maeve inhales shakily and braces her hands on her knees.

“Good,” he says. “My perfect girl.” Maeve bites her bottom lip as Aethon looks down at her pussy like a man possessed. He fists his cock and strokes himself a few times before kneeling down between her legs. “I want to taste what’s mine.”

Maeve watches, one hand covering her mouth, as he leans down and licks her throbbing pussy. He plunges his tongue inside her, the soft firmness a torture. Maeve moans and shoves her hand into his hair, holding on. He sucks at her, but purposely avoids her clit. He bites at her inner thighs, sucking red, tender marks along her flesh. He plunges a finger into her core and stretches her, lapping up her arousal so that Maeve is panting. He teases every inch of her with his tongue. His exploration is thorough and Maeve soon finds herself thrumming with unreleased tension. She needs to come. She would explode like a rocket if he would just touch her clit. Maeve tries to pull his head up to it, but he growls and digs his fingers into the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

“Please,” she begs, her voice trembling.

But Aethon ignores her. Maeve supposes this is what she gets for asking him to fuck her. Exquisite torture. Every muscle in her body feels coiled tight, ready to spring free. She pants and begs and tugs at his hair, but Aethon doesn’t touch her clit.

Finally he leans back. His face is a wet mess with her, his mouth open as he gulps air. He wipes his face off on his arm. Maeve is slumped in the chair, her legs still splayed out, one hand slipping from where it was tangled in Aethon’s hair. Her legs are trembling, her heart slamming against her chest, her pussy aching with need.

“Do you want to come now?” he asks. He stares into her eyes and Maeve draws in a shuddering breath.

“Yes,” she replies. “Please.” She barely recognizes the wrecked, pleading tone as her own.

“So polite, that’s my Bladesy.” Aethon licks his lips slowly and then leans down, inches away from her clit which is throbbing and feels swollen. He blows cool air over it and Maeve jerks and moans.