“Do not open your eyes,” he said, as if knowing where her thoughts led, and then his lips were claiming her again.
He wasn’t kissing her; Rumpel was owning her. His tongue shoved into her mouth, demanding she wrap her own around his, and she did, desperate for more. He tasted tart and rich, like smoked cherry, and she moaned, clawing at the front of him.
Depriving herself of one sense made the others flare to life even sharper. The rumbling growls that tore from his throat, the rustle of her nightshift as his hot hand shoved it upward, the strength and dexterity of his fingers as they crept along her inner thigh, each sensation was distinct.
“Oh gods,” she moaned, scratching so hard at his shirt that she tore it. The rending of fabric was like gunshot in her ears.
With a hiss, he clamped onto the shell of her ear with his sharp teeth. “Touch me, Carrot. Anywhere, everywhere. Touch me.”
Wild now, drowning in sensations, she thrust her hands beneath the tatters of his shirt and dragged her nails down his rock-hard stomach. Moaning, he leaned farther into her, pressing something hard and hot and thick into her thigh.
“Oh… oh.” It was all she could say; she prattled that one word over and over, walking a tightrope of desire so sharp it bordered on pain. Her body was alive, like a living flame, and his touch was inciting her to that same level of madness he’d claimed. Darkness clawed at her vision and demanded she open her eyes, especially as his fingers began a dangerous circuit upon the inside of her thigh.
“Tell me to touch you there.” His hot voice was in her ear and she banged her head against the wall.
She was a creature of duality, hot and cold, frenzied and yet completely rational. She wanted this, wanted him. As insane as this was, as much as she knew she shouldn’t do this, she could deny him nothing. Parting her legs, she wrapped one tightly around his thigh and moaned a heated “Touch me.”
Like a caged beast let loose, he had her pinned, every inch of her touching him, and then his hands slipped inside her and she groaned, intrinsically knowing to shove herself down onto him, taking him in deeper.
“Carrot,” he moaned, “you smell sweeter than the morning dew.”
Burying her face in his neck, she inhaled him. He flooded her. There was no her in that moment, just Rumpel. His body, the up-and-down motion of his fingers, the pain mingled with pleasure, and she needed so much more than this.
Whimpering, not sure what she needed, she clawed at him. There was something building deep inside her, a blunt, heavy feeling centering right where his fingers moved. Like a spiral, the energy gathered and built and she cried out, clutching his back, feeling as though she was going to die.
“I can’t,” she sobbed. “I… can’t.”
“Ssh, love,” he murmured, and then his fingers were out of her and that was even worse.
Because the magic, the power, it was all gone, but her body was still buzzing and she dug her nails into his arms. “No, don’t.”
Chuckling, his heady breaths feathered the side of her neck. “I’m not going anywhere.” Then there was a rustling sound, like he was sliding his shirt off.
And she knew she was right when he pressed against her and she felt his naked flesh. She had shoved her hands down, ready to fling her own garment off when he grabbed hold of her. Her scent was strong on him and made her blush with a sudden bout of embarrassment.
“Not this time, Carrot. This one is just for you.”
But the moment his hand slipped back inside her, the shame was replaced by the wanton and heady nature of a siren. Crying out in relief, she bit her lip.
“Bite me,” he whispered into her ear.
“What?” She almost opened her eyes, but he slammed a palm over them.
“No looking or this ends.”
“Why can’t I see you? I’ve seen your servants; I am not bothered by your form.”
His breathing was hard and when he whispered, it was full of grit. “I will show you passion and feed your siren, but never look upon me in this form, Shayera. Swear it.”
Curiosity burned inside her, but her need was brighter. “I vow it. I swear.”
His cheek pressed to her own. The touch was so intimate, so gentle compared to what they’d been doing, that for a moment it was easy to believe he was the tender lover she’d always imagined.
“Then bite me,” he ordered again, and this time she did not deny him.
Opening her mouth wide, she latched on to the curve of his neck and bit down onto the throbbing vein.
Grunting, he shoved his fingers up and down again, and the salty sweetness of his flesh beneath her tongue mingled with his touch, lighting her up like a firework. The spiraling became so tight, so potent, that she could either die or let it shatter her completely.