"No," Kassam murmurs, and pulls away slightly to gaze down at me. "No, I am going to savor this today. This is not hedonism. This is Kassam and his wife, Carly."
I gaze at him, surprised. He pulls me against him once more and then tugs me down onto the soft grass. As he does, the deer nearby move away, and we're alone—or as alone as one can be in a clearing full of magically called wild animals of all kinds. He holds me against him, searching my face before he leans in to carefully kiss me again. Instead of the frantic, desperate need of before, this kiss is soft. Tender. It's like he realizes I'm not going anywhere, and he can slow down and enjoy. The kiss changes, and he licks at my mouth as if I'm a delicious treat that must be savored. I whimper against his mouth, digging my hands into his tangled, thick hair.
"My wife," he breathes against my lips, and it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard.
He caresses my breast through the cup of my bra, teasing my nipple until I'm pressing up against him with hunger. I forget about the wolves, the shitty day we've had, my endlessly growling stomach, everything in light of his touch. When he undresses me, it's with reverent fingers, as if he's seeing me for the first time. He touches me all over, skimming his hands along my flesh and watching me with such awe that everything feels different. When he touches me between my thighs, I gasp and cling to his neck, our gazes locked as I ride his hand until he makes me come. As I shudder with my release, he works me with delicate touches, whispering about how beautiful I am, how special, and that I belong to him and no one else. It's a bit of possessiveness tangled with the sweet, and it absolutely makes me hot.
When he pulls me into his lap and seats me atop his cock, it means that we're making love facing each other. There's no getting away from looking at him, not like when we're in missionary style and I can just close my eyes and lose myself to the feelings. This feels ten times more intimate, and I cup his face and kiss him as he rocks his hips in time with me moving over him. Kassam gazes at me the entire time, not breaking eye contact once, and just the intensity of his stare adds another level of arousal. I come again, lost in his eyes, and then come a third time before he comes.
I collapse against his chest, sweaty and sated, even as I'm still speared atop him. He presses delicate kisses to my face and murmurs my name over and over again, and I don't think I've ever felt more cherished or more seen in a relationship.
It's absolutely wonderful…and absolutely terrifying.
I know this thing with Kassam isn't going to last. I'm his “little light,” his expendable human sidekick. For all that he's feeling things right now, it's not going to last. He's said himself he's had plenty of anchors before and he can't remember their faces. He probably won't remember mine once this is over, and I resign myself to that fact. He can call me “wife” all he wants, but the reality is, he's a god and I'm a mortal. Meeting Seth made me start to realize just how vast that gap can be.
But that's something to worry about tomorrow. For now I cuddle against Kassam and run my hands over his skin. "I'm here," I whisper. "I'm here." He needs me right now. Maybe he won't in the future, but at least I can be there for him right now.
34
I wake up the next morning to the sound of the griffins screaming.
I jerk upright, terrified as two of the largest griffins settle in the clearing, clawing at one another with their oversized eagle-like beaks. Nearby, Kassam watches with an almost bored expression that turns to a smile at the sight of me. "My little light," Kassam declares. "You are awake."
"I don't think anyone could sleep through that," I point out, moving to his side and carefully avoiding the griffins that circle and snap at one another. They won't attack me—they're obedient, unlike the conmac—but it doesn't mean I can't be accidentally trampled by a clawed foot. "I've never heard anything so damn loud."
Kassam just chuckles and slings an arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my temples. "I seem to recall someone crying out just as loud last night as she rode my lap—"
I smack him lightly to silence him, blushing. Okay, so I get a little loud during sex. But it's not griffin-loud. The griffins are screaming at the top of their lungs, and they sound like cats in heat—or cats that have been stepped on—but with megaphones strapped to their faces. I've never heard anything like it, and it's completely jarring. "Why are they so mad?"