I gasp at the cold rush of air between my thighs, but an instant later, his mouth sets me on fire as he drags his tongue from my slick entrance to my clit. White-hot pleasure streaks through my body like lightning, and I cry out, the sound filling the hall.
“This is what I fantasize about when I’m away from you,” he says against my heated skin. “Your taste. Your scent. The little gasps you take right before you come.” He settles in, his hands splaying wide on my inner thighs, pinning me in place as he uses his tongue to rob me of every thought. He swirls around that sensitive bud over and over, teasing, arousing, driving me higher and higher, but denies me the very touch I need. “Is this what you think about? My mouth between your soft thighs?”
Gods, how can he think, let alone form coherent sentences?
He scrapes his teeth over me delicately, and I gasp at the sensation, then whimper when his tongue follows. I can only moan when he slides a long finger inside me, and his answering groan vibrates through every nerve in my body.
“Yes.” It feels so exquisite that I muffle my next cry with my fist. “More.”
It’s always more when it comes to him.
He alternates between quick, teasing flicks and long, lazy licks, building an ever-tightening spiral of pleasure deep within me. Another finger joins the first, stretching me with a delicious burn, and my hips rock as he thrusts them in a slow, hard rhythm that makes me crave every part of him.
Power rises, scalding my already flushed skin, crackling in the very air around us.
Without stopping, he releases my thigh and reaches around my hip, then retrieves the conduit. “Take it.”
“I want you.” My fingers slide from his hair to grasp the orb, my hips chasing every stroke he gives me, my breaths coming in uneven pants.
“You have me.” I whimper at the mindless pleasure that rushes up my spine. “And I have you exactly where I need you.”
Even my hand can’t muffle the primal sounds he drags from me as his tongue matches the rhythm of his fingers, pleasure whipping through me with every stroke, gathering, building, stringing my body tight as a bow.
Gods, the sight of him kneeling, fully clothed, the leather of his flight jacket against my bare thighs, pushes me all the way to the edge and burns itself into my memory.
My thighs tremble when he curls his fingers inside me, stroking that sensitive wall that makes stars blink in my eyes. “Xaden…” My breaths stutter.
“Right there. Those gasps. That’s what I hear when I wake, already hard for you.”
With the next caress, pleasure and power crest through me, over me, in simultaneous waves that crash again and again. There’s no thunder, no strike, only the hum of energy in my hand that flares with the strokes of Xaden’s mouth and fingers.
But there’s no release, either. No gentle letdown. Only the waves of infinite ecstasy that come without breaking.
He lifts his head, keeping me in a suspended state of indescribable bliss as his eyes lock with mine.
“I can’t take it,” I manage to say as the waves come and come with no end in sight.
“Yes, you can. Look at where you are.” He grasps my hip and surges upward, propelling me deeper into the chair until my back hits the blackened wood, and still, he keeps stroking, holding me prisoner with my own pleasure. Brushing his lips over mine, he smiles. “Look at how beautiful you are, Violet, coming for me on Tyrrendor’s throne.”
Holy shit. I’d known that’s where we were, but I hadn’t known.
He grasps one of my thighs and drapes it over the arm of the throne, then braces his knee at the edge of the cushion and lifts my other leg over his shoulder as he slides down my body, lowering his head as he works his fingers ceaselessly, beckoning the endless waves.
Oh gods. I’m going to die. Right here. Right now.
“Every time I have to sit with the Assembly, I’ll be thinking about this, about you.” He slides his hand under my ass and lifts me to his mouth, then replaces his fingers with the thick stab of his tongue.
Searing pleasure rips through me, arching my back, and there’s no time to muffle the cry he wrings from me, but he doesn’t exactly stifle his deep moan, either.
“I can’t.” My heart has to give out at some point.
“You can and you will.” He strums his thumb lightly over my swollen clit, and my hips jerk.
The pleasure is sharper than a knife.
Shimmering onyx wraps around my mind and everything intensifies. A driving, pounding, uncontrollable need courses through me with every beat of my pulse, demanding an outlet, demanding I rip through the confines of the leather and trade her sweet taste for the incomparable perfection of sinking into her when she comes.
Xaden. I gasp for breath, gripping the conduit so tightly I prepare for the sound of breaking glass. It’s his desire flooding our bond, compounding my own. His desperation. His power brushing against mine.
I need to fuck her, to flip her over the arm of this throne and drive into her, but I can’t. I need her nail marks in the wood, need her cries filling this whole fucking house, need her knowing what I can be for her—anything and everything she needs. She’s heaven in my mouth. Flawless. Mine. And she’s almost there. Gods, yes, her legs are shaking, her walls are fluttering around my tongue. I love her so fucking much.
I shatter, splintering into a million glittering shards of bliss as I scream out his name. Power and light course through me without burning, and I arch again and again, coming apart at the seams of what I think is me but might be him.
He untangles from my mind, and I mourn the loss even as my body slackens. It’s my lungs I feel draw air, my own power that crackles through the orb in my hand before settling, my own heartbeat that finally slows as the last of the orgasm fades.
“What the hell did you do?” I lift my head, my eyes flaring when I realize Xaden isn’t tangled with me.
He’s three feet and a million miles away, backed against the Assembly’s table, gripping the shadow-covered edges with white knuckles, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly I wince.
“Xaden?”
“Just need a second.”
I manage the awkward task of sitting up and move to stand.
“Stay right there.” He holds his hand out.
Every line of his gorgeous body is drawn tight, and his leathers… Gods, that has to be painful.
