Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(47)

Distracting her, she realized as she felt her muscles ease, growing languid. His tongue dragged over hers, stoking a fire inside her, until she could focus on nothing more than his kiss. Before she realized it, he was as deep as he could get.

“That’s it,” he said as he broke their kiss. “You can take me.”

A string of curses fell from his lips as she clenched around him. The pain returned as he began to move, easing in and out of her with mind-numbing slowness, but with each stroke, the pain lessened until there was none, only the sensation of being stretched tight around his cock.

“Open your eyes.”

She hadn’t realized she shut them until that moment, forcing them open as she was greeted with their reflections staring back at her. One muscular arm was wrapped tight around her hips, but it was the way her legs were spread, giving an unobstructed view of her * and the shadow of his cock as he kept up those maddening strokes.

While he seemed captivated by her, she was lost in him. Feeling the tension in him was completely different from seeing the need reflected in his face—the way his jaw had gone tight, his brows drawn together in worry, as though he too couldn’t understand how it could be this good.

And when she arched in his hold, a pleading moan coming from her, Kyrnon cursed low, his hips snapping forward so hard it forced the breath from her lungs.

But there was no pain.

Just a pleasure so intense she was seeing stars.

Soon, he was thrusting into her so hard and fast that she was screaming his name, at least until he kissed her again. This one wasn’t slow and sweet like the last, but hard and wet and all consuming. Again and again, he pounded into her, his free hand snaking down to find her swollen clit, drumming his fingers over it.

“Your * is mine, Amber,” he breathed, the possession in his gaze making her dig her nails into the arm he had banded around her. “Say it.”

She wasn’t capable of words, not when he was manipulating her body in a way that she was focused entirely on what he was doing to her.

But he wanted an answer, whether she was ready to give it or not. Before she realized what he was doing, he was pulling his hand away, only to bring it back down over her sex in a hard smack.

“Fucking say it. I won’t ask again.”

“Oh, God.”

But that wasn’t what he wanted.

Another smack.

And a third before she was rushing to say, “My * is yours.”

“And you’re mine.”

This was said with every bit of the sexual frustration she felt, but the under currents of his tone told her they were more than just words said as he f*cked her—he meant them.

She didn’t hesitate as she said, “I’m yours.”

Every part of her.

Mind.

Body.

Soul.

Her agreement seemed to snap the last bit of his control as he urged her forward, her arms catching her weight as she went down, though keeping her back arched.

One hand curled around her shoulder, the other at her hip as he pulled her back to meet his thrusts. She was so full that she felt every ridge of his cock sliding over her walls, the feel of him making her quake around him.

He made her crave this—crave the pleasurable pain he was so good at giving.

And when he growled her name, like both a curse and a promise, she came hard enough that her legs were shaking.

Kyrnon cursed loud as he gave another brutal thrust of his hips, and a second until he was spilling inside of her, holding her tight as his chest heaved.

He pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to the top of her spine, directly over the crescent moon tattooed there. And as he slowly eased out of her, she could feel the change in him.

It was in the way he carried her back to his bedroom.

The way he held her.

As though he would never let go.



* * *



Amber was in love, and that thought terrified her.

She wasn’t sure when it happened, but she knew she realized it the night before when they’d sat on his floor, talking, and he had told her things that she never thought she would hear. Hearing it had been bad enough, but seeing that pain reflected on his face made her ache in a way she couldn’t describe.

It was a ridiculous notion to think she could change the way he felt—it had already happened, he’d lived through it—but in those dark moments, she wished with every piece of her that she could wipe that pain away and give him some peace.

But that didn’t necessarily mean she was in love.

She would do the same for anyone she cared about, but it was the way she felt when she was around him that made all the difference.

How he tucked her into his side whether they were in his bed, or walking through Brooklyn to grab food at one in the morning.

Or how he gave his undivided attention when she spoke to him about ideas she had.

And if she were at his place and he had to go and run an errand, he would always kiss her like it was the last time before he left.

Everything.

Just everything about him had quickly drawn her in and wrapped her up so tight that she didn’t want to let go.

“Why the face?”

Kyrnon’s voice dragged her from her thoughts, forcing her into the present as she looked across the couch at him. Since the moment they had woken up that morning, things had … shifted. She couldn’t describe the change, but it wasn’t a bad one.