Shadow's End (Elder Races, #9)(31)

Sharing this kind of raw, carnal intimacy with her was incredible. He would be more awed if he wasn’t so immersed in her.

As his fingers connected with her clitoris, she cried out and lifted her head off the ground. Enchanted, he rubbed her rhythmically, while her hands roamed his body with a frantic urgency. With one hand, she cupped his balls and stroked his erection, while with the other, she stroked and caressed his chest, plucking at his nipples.

Then she stiffened, her lips parting on a gasp, and her wide, dark gaze flew to his. He looked deeply into her eyes as he stroked her, transfixed by the way she shivered and groaned as she climaxed.

Events cascaded, and suddenly, they were moving too fast. The urge to be inside her was too strong. Growling, he moved between her legs, covering her body with his, and she guided the broad, thick head of his cock into place.

Gazing into her eyes, he entered her, and she was so hot, so wet.

Her inner muscles tightened on him as she wrapped both legs around his waist, and he couldn’t help but move. He couldn’t stop. He pinned her down, hips flexing, and she cradled his entire body as she tilted up for every thrust.

Making love vanished into animal rut. He needed to get deeper, to dominate. Fire overtook his body. Gripping her by the hip, he increased his tempo until he was pistoning into her. She cried out, winding an arm around his neck.

His own climax slammed up the base of his spine, and it was all too fast. It came on too strong, sank invisible teeth into him, and it wouldn’t let go. Groaning, he spurted into her. He was so blinded by the extreme pleasure, he was only vaguely aware of how she rocked with him, encouraging every last ripple.

It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t ever be nearly enough.

He needed to continue, to go deeper, spill more of himself into her, until there was nothing left of him to give. Until there was no turning back.

A shock of realization slapped him.

What he needed to do—it was absolutely the one thing he shouldn’t.

Gasping, he withdrew. It was the hardest thing he had ever done. His cock was still so stiff and aching, he couldn’t bear to touch himself, while he buried his face in the extravagant dark pool of her hair.

I can’t fall in love with you, he thought.

But it was too late for that. He was already in love with her.

It had been too late from that moment at the masque when he took her hand and tucked it gently into the crook of his arm.

He had always been a little in love with her. How could he not be? Falling the rest of the way had felt so effortless, so right. All it had taken was spending a little time with her, talking to her, holding her in his arms.

I can’t mate with you and leave you. And I can’t stay with you either. There’s too much distance lying between us, too many impossible barriers.

She cupped his cheek and tried to meet his eyes.

“It’s not you,” he said. He sounded too harsh, and concern darkened her expression. “It’s not this. It’s me.”

“What can I do?” she whispered.

“Nothing. I just want this too much.” He yanked her cloak off his back and shoved it into her hands. Everything he did was too rough, but he couldn’t control himself. He realized he had been so on fire to get inside her, he hadn’t even gotten fully undressed.

Tearing off his clothes, he stood when he was entirely nude. His cock ached fiercely. So did his soul.

He realized he could see more of the clearing than he could earlier, and he looked up at the eastern sky. The pale gray of predawn crowned the neighboring trees. It was almost dawn. They had run out of time.

Striding away, he headed for the river. When he reached the bank, he dove in. Icy water closed over his head.

It was the only way he could think to quench the fire that ran in his veins.

I can’t mate with you and hope to live.





EIGHT


Left alone by the fire, Bel curled on her side and drew her knees to her chest. She stared sightlessly at the dying flames.

Making love with Graydon had been more raw and elemental than she could have imagined. It had also been over much too quickly. Sharing that sense of closeness and pleasure, the urgent need for each other. His body was so powerful, and he used it so gently. She fingered one of her nipples, still sensitized and swollen from his mouth.

She loved sensuality, and she enjoyed making love. She’d had other lovers besides Calondir, both before marrying him and after they had decided to reunite for the sake of the baby.

But the community they had established in South Carolina was a close-knit one, and she hadn’t taken a lover since they had created the Elven demesne, so long ago. She had set that part of herself aside and focused on the many other aspects of her life.

She felt as if she had drifted into a state where she had been only half-alive, partially awake, but now her sexuality had flared to life again, opening all her senses.

The ground felt harder, the air cooler, the fire warmer. Her skin was hypersensitive to the weight of her cloak and the uneven folds of his coats underneath. Unaccustomed to being with a man, the private place between her legs throbbed.

The look on his face as he left her. Her emotions felt heightened too, and the pleasure she had felt turned to ashes. Her eyes filled.

Blinking back the wetness, she searched for the handkerchief from the parcel of food. When she found it, she used it to clean the inside of her thighs. Then, as the clearing lightened with dawn, she dressed.