A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

“Why not?” he asked. “I know that stablehand would have tried.”

His thumb brushed over a sensitive part of me, and I sucked in a breath. If my thoughts weren’t in a mindless haze, I would have stopped to consider what came out of my mouth. But I just didn’t care anymore; at this moment, I would’ve told this man anything he wanted to know. “He wasn’t you,” I breathed, arching my hips to move against him.

He hissed a curse. “Why did you drop your dress at my feet, Calamity? Why not another man’s?”

I shook my head, the languid pressure building and building to a burning flame inside of me, and could only manage, “Only you.”

He groaned against my neck, and with a blink, the alleyway morphed into his room in the palace. A whoosh of air and my dress was over my head, the softness of the mattress hitting my back as his body came down on mine. The heavy weight of him had me arching my back, pressing against him tighter as his mouth caught my own.

He kissed me hard, and my hands found his wrists on either side of my head. The smooth leather of his jerkin brushed my breasts with his every move, and it sent shots of pleasure straight between my legs.

He moved down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, a flutter of warmth erupting in my stomach. Moving to the other, he flicked a nipple with his tongue before sucking; a shot of pleasure raced through me. He did it until I was lightheaded, as if he had all the time in the world. We both knew we didn’t, though.

He trailed kisses down my stomach, and anticipation shot through my veins when I realized where he was going. My eyes rolled back, my fingers digging into the sheets at the first hot, wet, touch of his mouth.

My fingers threaded through his hair, pushing and pulling him without any sense of direction, my only thought sating this fire inside me. I arched my hips, the sounds of his rough breaths, taking away any reservations I had.

The pressure expanded, close to bursting. A guttural moan escaped my lips as his fingers slid inside me. And then he sucked—no, it was too much. I shattered, warmth sizzling throughout my body, and then flooding with languid heat.

“I knew there was a purpose for your mouth,” I said breathlessly as he trailed kisses back up my stomach. I yelped when he nipped my breast, and then sighed when he soothed it with his tongue.

His gaze was dark, hazy, as he came up to kiss me. I pulled at the buttons of his jerkin, undoing a few, but unable to get them all while he kissed me, his arms resting by my head. I wanted to see him, to run my hands over him. To trace his scars and brands.

He pulled back to his knees, getting the rest of the buttons himself. He watched me as he did it, his gaze heated. “You’re so beautiful it’s unreal, you know that?”

I stilled at his serious and rough voice before a sudden warmth flooded my chest. I’d never heard such admiration from him before, and a sudden shyness overwhelmed me. I swallowed under his stare, speechless.

His lips tipped up at the corners as he pulled his jerkin off. “Interesting. Now I know what will keep you quiet: compliments.”

I only looked up at him, feeling subservient for the first time in my life.

He cursed before dropping to his forearms and capturing my lips with his.

My hands came to the smooth muscles of his back, a moan escaping me when the hard length of him aligned perfectly between my legs.

His heavy weight lay against me, his mouth undecided between my neck, breasts, or lips, with the maddening sensation of his hips grinding against me.

“Weston . . .” I moaned when I couldn’t take it any longer. I didn’t care if I had to beg for it.

My mouth went dry when he sat up, undid his pants and pulled them off. I hadn’t really gotten a good look at him the last time, and now that I was . . . no wonder that had bloody hurt.

I wasn’t satisfied with perusing him just yet when he came back down on me, gripped my thigh, pushed it up to my stomach before I choked out a breath as he slid in. And in. So deep. The sting was minimal; the feeling of fullness so new, yet so incredibly right. Like I’d just realized how empty I’d always been.

He groaned so rough, his gaze running from my face to between our legs. And then he began to move. Pleasure sparking with each thrust. My hands gripped his arms, feeling a rush that I got to touch him any way I wanted.

With my legs wrapped around his waist, he found a perfect rhythm.

He gripped my face, kissing me soft and lazy, and I melted into his touch, into the pressure of his body on top of mine.

“Weston?”

He kissed down my throat, a palm gripping a breast. His thumb brushing a nipple back and forth, and I completely lost my train of thought.

“Calamity?” he echoed me.

His mouth was on my breast, his teeth grazing—

Ah, I could die from this. Happily.