The kiss is reckless and consuming, and I give it my all, knowing it might be the last one. His tongue licks into my mouth with an urgency I return, angling to take him deeper.
“Quit telling Sgaeyl about my sleep habits,” I grumble at Tairn. “I’m not dignifying that demand with a response.” “Andarna is my favorite.” Tairn snorts.
“You were—” I pause. “I don’t even know how old you are now.” Mira was right. I know almost nothing about him.
First of all… this is simple math baby. If you have to be 20 when you join the quadrant.. and he’s 2 years older than you…you can guess🙄. Don’t be dramatic.
Maybe it was the first time I recklessly kissed you or when I realized I’m fucked because I can’t stop thinking about doing more than just kissing you.”
Just because your body is built differently than the others doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to keep your seat. It takes more than a few strips of leather and a pommel to define a rider.”
“Fuck, that stubborn, feisty look always makes me want to kiss you.” Xaden’s expression remains bland, bored even, but his eyes heat as his gaze drops to my mouth.
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I fling the dagger at the target. The satisfying sound of split wood tells me I hit true. “Fuck, that’s hotter than it should be.”
“You walk into a room, and I can’t look away. I get anywhere near you, and this is what happens. Instantly hard. Fucking hell, I can barely think when you’re around.”
“Look at you. You’re fucking beautiful, Violet. Let go for me.” His words curl around my mind, his mouth fused to mine, and the intimacy of it pushes me to the limit of pleasure and then right over it.
“I need all of you.” “You’re going to be the death of me, Violet.” Whatever’s left of his control slips, and he takes me completely with one hard thrust.
“You feel so fucking good.” He slams back into me, again and again, as he sets a brutal, steady pace, his mouth sliding down my neck as his hand rises to cup my breast.
I can’t even think around the maddening pleasure as my back pounds the armoire door with every thrust, filling the room with the sound of our straining bodies and creaking wood.