Page 11 of Ashborne Forged

I would have questioned him—he’d seemed to like it a great deal—but then he dropped to slide one arm behind my knees, the other behind my shoulders, and he lifted me, still kissing me, carrying me to the nearby bed and laying me down.

There was a moment of chill when the cold air brushed at damp places on my skin, but he hurriedly toed off his boots, shoved his trousers off and kicked them aside, before crawling onto the bed, already stroking a hand up the inside of my leg, his mouth open on my belly, the heat of him slowly drawing up my body, until he lowered himself between my knees, pressed me into the mattress, and kissed me so deeply, everything else faded.

I gasped and writhed, my skin alight as if it were in flames of joy. But Voski became hunger personified.

Weight pressing me into the bed, he growled and dipped his head to suck at my neck, my ear, his teeth grazing my jaw. He stroked and filled his hands with every curve, the soft scratch of his callouses following every dip and peak of my form. His touch tingled everywhere and I arched into it. Pressing myself into his hands, his weight, his kiss—until finally he rolled his hips and drew himself up, sliding against me, creating a jolt of such intense pleasure, I gave a small cry—and in the distance, the dragons called.

My body hummed, jangling with the promise of that incredible, crashing wave I’d felt in the cave when Koa’s heat drove me to touch myself.

Then Voski eased off—I slapped a hand to his back, clawing nails into him, about to beg him to stay, when he arched and his length slid against me again, and that howling pleasure coursed through me once more.

Arching into him, trembling, I clung. “What—what is that?” I gasped.

“It’s your peak. Your climax… or it will be,” he whispered, kissing me, then nipping at my chin. “Have you never—?”

“Only once,” I said breathlessly, my lips brushing his. “When Koa was first in heat. I thought it was from her.”

He lifted his head then and smiled down at me, wicked and thrilling. “Oh, no, beautiful. It’s all you.”

Then, with a ravenous smile, he dropped his head again, kissing his way down my neck, then my chest, rolling his hips to bring more waves of that pleasure, but as he slid down my body—kissing my ribs, then my stomach, then further down, I watched him, waiting for him to crawl back up, to take my mouth again.

Instead, he pressed my knees wider and pushed up to kneel between them, staring at the sensitive skin he’d just been teasing, his erection tall and full, as he stroked fingertips up and down the insides of my thighs.

Right alongside the rush of his touch, I felt the first flush of embarrassment at lying there, fully exposed. But when I moved to cover myself, he caught my hands and frowned, shaking his head.

“You’re beautiful, Grace. Let me see you.”

“But—”

His eyes snapped to mine and the words died in my throat. “You’re beautiful to me.”

Then, flattening palms on my thighs, he parted me and to my shock, bent forward to kiss me there.

“Voski, don’t—oh!”

His tongue slid against me, fast and firm and my hips bucked—but he kept me pinned to the bed. He licked again, and I squeaked, and grabbed for him. But then he pressed harder, and sucked—and I caught fistfuls of his hair and cried out.

Every moment I told myself I’d stop him before the next slide and flick of his tongue. Every breath I swore would be the last I’d draw before telling him to stop. But his ministrations—given enthusiastically, and with stern sounds when I gasped a protest—were slowly unraveling my mind.

Soon, I could do nothing but lie there, gripping his hair, body writhing, and beg.

“Voski… Voski…” Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—

He applied his tongue in firm, flicking strokes, again and again, leaving me quivering and gasping his name. Then he touched me, one finger, curling inside me in response to his tongue—and the moment the two sensations peaked together, he might as well have picked me up bodily and thrown me off a cliff of pleasure.

I cried out, arching so acutely, only my bottom and shoulders remained on the bed.

His tongue lapped and he sucked as I quivered and cried, waves of sheer ecstasy rolling through my body, pebbling my skin, and setting my soul alight.

I hung there in that wordless, mindless, pleasure as my body detonated in waves, and then, as surely as the crashing wave washed into shore, the thundering ceased. A rush flowed out to every extremity. I sucked in the breath I hadn’t been able to take when my lungs were frozen, and slumped back to the bed, trembling.

“Holy shit, you’re stunning when you come,” Voski rasped, then crawled up my body, as I lay there, feebly reaching for him, curling into him as his heat and weight pressed me down once more. He kissed his way up my body—and when he reached my mouth, I was so hungry for him, so startled, I sucked on his tongue, and he groaned.

His kiss was heated, and demanding, tongue delving, his hips rocking, once again, pressing himself against me—only now, my flesh was so sensitive, I bucked and whimpered with every pass. But I still ached. For more. For him. So, I clung, pulling him closer, clawing nails into his back, gasping pleas.

And he arched over me, looming, one hand cupped over the top of my head, the other squeezing my breast, and he rolled his hips and found me—and froze.

Both eyes wide, both panting, we stared at each other in the growing dark. He swallowed, and stroked hair back from my face.