Chapter 311
Wake steps inside with slow, deliberate movements. His armor is gone, replaced with dark fabric draped low across his hips and trailing behind like kelp caught in a current. His upper body gleams with droplets, his crimson and obsidian scales glowing faintly in the low light.
His eyes meet mine—and they burn.
He doesn’t speak.
Neither do I.
I rise slowly from the bath, water cascading off my skin, catching the soft blue light as it flows down my body. I feel it—the way his gaze trails every curve, every inch of me like he’s memorizing the map of my skin.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
“I thought you were with Lovelace,” I murmur, my voice rough with heat.
“I was,” he replies, stepping closer. “He talks a lot.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
His gaze darkens. “Petra said you were tired. But you don’t look tired.”
“I was,” I whisper. “Now I’m… not.”
His hand finds my waist. My skin lights up like it’s remembering something it never forgot. He leans in, his mouth brushing mine.
And I let myself fall into the warmth of him, into the storm I’ve been holding back since the moment we got here.
I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, letting the water slide off my body onto his skin.
His hands are gentle. Reverent. One slides around my hip, the other up my back, pulling me closer.
His mouth brushes over my jaw, my throat. A soft, desperate noise escapes him, and the sound sends a thrill through me.
He wants me.
My lips find his. He kisses me with a tenderness that steals my breath. He pulls back, his forehead resting on mine, his hands cradling my face.
He breathes in, breathing me in.
He kisses me again. Slowly, deeply, until my head spins.
One hand trails down the side of my body, and the next thing I know, his arms are around my waist and he glides forward, his powerful tail working as he crowds me, pushing me back into the pool.
He lifts me, one hand on the small of my back, the other gripping the back of my thigh. I wrap my legs around his waist, the water splashing up my sides.
I run my hands along his shoulders, his chest, down his stomach. He shudders beneath my touch, his muscles jumping.
He pulls back, his breathing ragged.
His eyes—they are pure, brilliant green fire.
Wake presses his lips to the hollow of my throat, and my head falls back, my body arching toward him.
I gasp, the sound echoing off the walls.
He freezes.
His voice is strained, almost pleading.
His breath is warm and damp against my neck, and it takes everything in me not to push my body against his, to beg him to touch me, taste me, claim me.
My voice is barely a whisper.
My eyes meet his.
His body is a landscape of smooth, coiled muscle. The lines and curves of him are all sharp edges, cut like marble.
He's beautiful.
His mouth is hot on my neck. A sharp, bright pain blooms as he bites down, hard enough to make me gasp, then soothes it with a kiss.
Heat pools low in my belly, heavy and urgent.
I feel his cock—a hard, pulsing length against my belly.
Heat rushes between my thighs. My pussy pulses hungrily.
I want him.
Every part of him.
And I need him to take me. Now.
My hands roam over his broad, powerful back, his waist, and hips, before trailing down his front. I grip his thick cock, stroking it in my fist, enjoying the way his entire body trembles.
He lets out a low, guttural sound, a mixture of pleasure and frustration.
My hand grips the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and he complies, pressing his forehead to mine.
Our breaths mingle, labored and wanting.
"I need you," I whisper, and the words send a ripple through his body. "Now, Wake."
He moves us through the water, until the wall presses against my back. He reaches down and wraps his arm around the back of my left thigh, pulling it up so my knee rests against his side. He holds me there, pinned, his eyes searching mine, the muscles in his arm bulging.
Then his hips move, his hard length rubbing against me, sliding over my clit in the most delicious way.
I moan, throwing my head back against the stone.
"Is this what you want?" he asks, his voice ragged.
"Yes."
He rubs himself against me, his movements sending sparks of heat through my core.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No."
"Do you want more?"
"Please."
His mouth moves along my jaw, and his cock rubs against me again, sliding up and down, making my head spin.
"Wake," I whisper, a soft plea, an entreaty.
His cock presses against my entrance, and I gasp.
His hips shift, his cock slipping through my folds.
His fingers dig into my thigh, hard enough to leave bruises.
I don't care.
He presses inside me, filling me slowly, stretching me, until his cock is buried to the hilt, and we both groan in pleasure.
His thrusts are deep and relentless, each one punctuated by a low growl. I cling to him, lost in the sensations, my body rocking against his, our moans and gasps echoing through the room.
I pull his mouth to mine, and he kisses me hard, his tongue thrusting into my mouth in time with his cock.
He pulls back, his face inches from mine, his gaze burning into mine.
His voice is raw, intense.
I gasp, pleasure rushing through me. I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him tight, my nails digging into his shoulders.
"Come for me," he says, his voice rough.
He picks up the pace, pounding into me, and the pressure inside me builds until it breaks. I cry out, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm.
He groans, his hips stuttering, and then he's coming too, his cock pulsing inside me.
He holds me close, his head bowed, his breathing harsh. “Feel better?”
My chest heaves, my limbs trembling, and my vision goes blurry.
“Not even close.”
I pull his mouth back to mine, desperate to do anything to slake my hunger. Even if it takes all night.
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