She suddenly stilled and wriggled, shifting up the bed and pulling away from him.
Had he done something wrong?
He lifted his head to look at her, sure that he had.
She did look angry.
But then her face softened.
“You keep doing that, and I won’t get you inside me and I need you inside me, Daimon.” She jerked her chin towards him and heat scalded his cheeks when he realised she was talking about him rubbing the covers.
“Been a while,” he muttered. “Got a bit carried away.”
She smiled softly. “Been a while for me too.”
But probably nowhere near as long as it had been for him.
She patted the covers beside her.
He crawled up the bed to her but rather than going where she wanted, he prowled towards her instead. Her smile gained a wicked edge again as he forced her backwards, as she hit the bedclothes beneath him and he covered her again.
She skimmed her hand down his arm as he kissed her, savouring the way her tongue tangled with his, how their breath mingled. A groan leaked from him when she took hold of his hand and placed it between her thighs, stroked herself with him before her fingers trailed away.
He kept stroking her, lost in how slick she was.
So lost he didn’t notice her hand moving until it suddenly wrapped around his cock.
He barked out a moan and gritted his teeth, shuddered as bliss rolled through him. Her hand was hot on his flesh, gliding up and down it, sending lightning striking along his nerves with every stroke.
“Gods,” he uttered and pressed his forehead to hers, unable to focus on kissing her as she stroked him, as her fingers closed around his shaft to squeeze it.
He was about to tell her to stop when she flipped him and rose over him, her hands pinning his shoulders to the mattress and her lips descending on his. She moaned in time with him as she brought her hips down, as her slick heat pressed against his hard shaft.
Daimon swallowed hard.
Fought the urge to roll her over and bury himself in her.
Because he had the feeling his little sorceress wanted to be in charge.
And gods, he was fine with that.
She stroked her right hand down his chest. His heart drummed hard against it, and he tensed as she reached his stomach.
“Relax,” she murmured against his lips.
Easy for her to say.
He breathed through the panic, through the spike in arousal, and focused on kissing her. It worked until she gripped his cock.
He reached for it too, needing to rush this part, before he lost his nerve.
He closed his hand around hers and positioned the blunt tip, groaned with her as it brushed through her soft flesh and nudged inside. The moment he began to inch inside her, he released his length and seized her hips, pushed her down onto it. A sweet cry left her lips, the sound drugging, his new addiction.
Together with the way she rotated her hips on him, swirling them in a maddening way.
He tipped his head back into the mattress, clutched her hips and pumped into her, lost in a thousand colliding sensations. She planted her hands to his chest, scalding him with her touch and kissed him again as she began to move on him, bouncing in time with his thrusts. Her breath stuttered against his lips, breasts brushing his chest each time he plunged into her, her soft cries guiding him.
Daimon pressed his heels into the bed and bent his knees, pumping her harder, losing himself as need built inside him, pushing him to the edge. He reached for release with every thrust, each downward plunge Cass made to take him back into her, every gasping moan that she breathed against his lips between kisses.
She murmured things in Russian again.
Demanding things.
Things that had him smiling as he gripped her hips, as he gave her exactly what she wanted, stroking her with the entire length of his cock on each long fast thrust.
She tensed, her moans growing more desperate, and his balls drew up as she gripped him, as she tightened around him and had stars winking across his vision. Good gods.
Cass broke away from his lips, feverishly kissed and nipped at his shoulder, and then pushed back. She threw her head back as she planted her hands against his chest, her black hair spilling like a waterfall down her back as she rode him harder. Her face twisted, bliss painted across it, and he groaned as he watched her.
As he watched his length entering her over and over again.
The dark possessive side of him snarled that she was his now.
He wouldn’t let anyone take her from him.
He grasped her hips and thrust harder into her, possessing her, losing himself to that darker side of his blood. She moaned louder, her face screwing up, lips parting as she tilted her head back.
“Oh gods,” she whispered.
And then screamed.
Her entire body tensed and then pulsed around him, her thighs quivering against his hips as she struggled for breath.
Daimon roared as he followed her, as seed boiled up his shaft and he sank it deep into her, spilling himself so hard his vision tunnelled. He held her on him as his length pulsed and throbbed, clutched her there long after he was done and couldn’t convince himself to release her.
He stared at her, keeping her on him, feeling himself inside her—connected to her.
Mine.
The darker side of his blood snarled that word and he felt it in every inch of him.
She was his.
And he was never letting her go.
Eventually, Cass sagged against his chest, her warm breaths skating across his skin, and he wrapped his arms around her, heart thundering, body tingling as he struggled to come down.
He felt her smile against his chest.
Smiled too when she patted it and whispered.
“Gold medal.”
Chapter 23
Cass lazed at Daimon’s side, sheltered in his arms, her legs tangled with his and her fingers maddening him as they traced circles on his chest, teasing his
