Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

Another orgasm started to build. She angled her body, trying to hit the right spot, but then his touch disappeared and she felt him fumbling with the button of his jeans.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a panicked whisper.

“Let me feel you,” he said. “Skin on skin.”

This was dangerous, her mind screamed, but her body was past caring. In this, her mind had never stood a chance. She leaned back, giving him space to pull down the zipper. He freed his cock, heavy and thick, so hard with desire. For her.

He dragged her closer. “Do it again, just like before.”

Cradling her face, he stared into her eyes as if he might find answers to riddles as she slid back up his thighs. The minute their naked skins touched, her eyes drifted closed. Desire was sharp, a gemstone with rough, shining edges cutting through her defenses. His skin felt like velvet against hers, hot and hard. Her arousal made her slick, aiding her movement when she dragged her folds over his length to the head of his cock.

He hissed when her clit touched the crest. She opened her eyes to look at him. His features were distorted, his face pulled into a grimace, but with something different than pain.

“Put me inside,” he said.

Her lips parted.

“Only the tip,” he coaxed. “Just give me a taste of how tight you are.”

The thought made her burn. There was no way she couldn’t obey. There was no way she could walk away without feeling just the tip of what could never be. Or maybe what could, her hopeful heart whispered.

“Wait,” he said when she lifted herself.

He spread out his coat on either side of him so her knees had someplace soft to land. Stradling him on her knees, she folded her fingers around his cock.

He let out a groan. “You’re going to make me shoot fast.”

Nervous with uncertainty, she fumbled a little. As if sensing her need for him to take control, he stilled her hands and placed them on his shoulders. His eyes rested reassuringly on hers, burning with heat but offering a smile. She held onto the anchors he offered as he gripped the base of his cock in one hand and her hip in the other. He brushed the crest from the bottom of her slit to the top, ending on her clit.

“Christ,” he said, his shoulders going rigid under her palms.

She shivered with need, but when he positioned the head at her entrance, she turned crazy with want. He parted her carefully, pushing the head gently inside.

Fire consumed her from the inside out. A primal need demanded one thing only, that she consummated this.

“Deeper,” she said, tightening her fingers on his shoulders.

“You sure about that?” he asked against her lips.

It was too late to back out. She couldn’t return to being nothing, to exist unnoticed. She wanted to own this piece of him. Tomorrow didn’t matter. Tomorrow, she’d go back to living her life through others, a spectator looking through a window, but tonight she was here. Tonight, he saw her. Tonight, she could have this stolen moment.

“Yes,” she said, the word a sigh.

He crushed their mouths together, kissing her hard as he angled his hips and slipped another inch inside. She gasped into his mouth. The stretch burned. The insatiable desire wasn’t enough to eliminate the discomfort, but somehow it seemed fitting. What was happening between them was too big for only sweet pleasure. Without the duality added by the pain, the sweetness couldn’t exist. The moment needed the razor-edged side of the spectrum to be the complex, intense, and perfectly beautiful experience it was.

With the strain that his control was taking etched on his face, he clasped his hands around her middle and guided her down over his length. A path of fire burned up inside her. She whimpered as he kissed her and swallowed her sounds. He didn’t stop, didn’t give her a reprieve until he was buried so deep their groins pressed together.

“Doing okay, sweet girl?” he asked, nipping her bottom lip.

Her breath caught when he rolled his hips. Nothing would ever be okay again. How did she go back to normal after this?

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

When he moved, some of the discomfort lifted. Nerve endings came to life, making her need climb again.

More of the haze cleared from his eyes. “You’re tight, sweetness. How long has it been?”

She clenched her knees on his thighs and lifted herself before forcing down past the burn. New pleasure surfaced through the pain.

When he pressed a thumb on her clit, she opened her legs wider. She didn’t care about the stones and grass blades hurting her knees even through the protection of his coat. Their rocking was messy and rough, their timing somehow synchronized, because when her inner muscles tightened, his body went rigid.