My cries tore my throat raw as wave upon wave of pleasure broke me, put me back together again, and broke me once more. There was no end to one climax or start to the next, just a rolling, drowning eternity.
When I could open my eyes, he had my thighs over his shoulders, one hand splayed over my belly, and his lips fastened around my bud while his tongue flicked over it.
That was enough to send me over the edge once more—this orgasm not powered by our magic, but still sublime.
As I sank from it, he lowered me to the bed and gave a self-satisfied smile. “I’ve missed that. Sounds like you have too.”
What would the guards make of my cries? My cheeks warmed, but before any old voices could whisper in my head, Bastian kissed me, long and deep, and I forgot there was anything outside of these cracked walls.
When he pulled away and unbuckled his belt, I sat on the edge of the bed. At last it was my turn to see him. Somewhere along the way, the sun had set and fae lights drifted through our room, gilding his body. I bit my lip as he unbuttoned his trousers, revealing trimmed, dark hair, and when he lowered them, his cock sprung free, thick and hard already, and—
My eyes widened. “Oh.” On the underside, behind the flared head, sat another piercing. A barbell, like his nipple, but instead of small spikes, a steel ball sat at each end. “Oh.”
“Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad one?” He stroked a hand down his length, pulling back the skin so I could see how the bar pierced a fold of skin Ella had told me was highly responsive.
“More… intrigued. Is it like your nipple—more sensitive?”
“A little. But lovers like it too, especially in certain positions.” I could hear the smirk in his voice.
I glanced up at him, one eyebrow raised. “I hope you’re about to show me those positions.”
He made a low sound as his pupils grew wide.
I had that effect on him. Me. Not my weakness or my silence, but my desire and the promise of sharing myself with him. It was powerful.
And maybe I was powerful.
Perhaps that was what drove me as, on impulse, I darted forwards and ran my tongue along his underside. Soft, warm skin, followed by the uncompromising hardness of his piercing.
“Fuck,” he blurted, grabbing the upper crossbar of the bed like he needed it for balance.
I grinned up at him. My turn to be self-satisfied, especially with his salty taste on my tongue.
Narrowing his eyes, he crowded me. “You need to warn a man before doing something like that.” A growl edged his voice.
I blinked, all innocence as he forced me back onto my elbows. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“Wicked Lady, indeed.” He kissed me, body pressing mine into the bed.
My heart hammered. Faster. Faster. Faster.
Not with climbing pleasure but with a need to break out from his weight. I screwed my eyes shut and went still, going through the motions of kissing him back. Keep him happy. It will be over soon. It will be…
But, no. This wasn’t him, it was Bastian.
“Stop.”
He did. Instantly.
Lifting his weight onto his hands, he widened his eyes. “Kat? Are you all right? I’m sorry, I—”
“Just”—I caught my breath and gave a reassuring smile—“not like that. Not on my back under you.”
He eased onto his side, not withdrawing but also not touching, leaving me space. “It can be not at all, if you want. We don’t have to do this tonight.”
I stood, and I could breathe again. “I want to.” With my panic subsiding, the need was still as sharp as it had been moments ago.
“Are you sure? We can just—”
“Shut up and show me, Bastian.”
With a low sound of warning, he rose from the bed and strode into me. Without stopping, he lifted me against him, kissing my lips, my jaw, my throat as he carried me across the room, only stopping when my backside landed on a narrow sideboard.
This. This was what I wanted.
Legs around him, I kissed the line of his scar and chased the angle we’d found before when fully clothed, letting his cock slide along me and over my clit. As one, we groaned.
He palmed my breasts and nipped at my throat, tangling me in so many sensations it felt like I was losing my mind.
With the scrap of sanity I had left, I trailed my fingertips along the edges of his ears and smiled as his moan hummed over my skin. “Please,” I breathed into his ear.
He pulled back and caught my hand, pressing it against the wall. “You’re going to finish me before I even begin.”
I bit my lip and shifted my other hand to his cheek, enjoying the scrape of stubble over my palm.
He slid along me once more before pulling away. I made a small sound of complaint before he placed his tip at my entrance.
We paused there, chests heaving, eyes locked.
Despite how huge this moment felt, pulling on every strand of my being, for once in my life, I was not afraid.
“Don’t close your eyes, Katherine,” he murmured. “Keep them on me. This is real. We are real. I swear it on all that I am.”
Yes. I knew it. Felt it. Believed it.
Then, slowly, slowly, he sank into me. Tension thrummed in every inch of his body, a tightness that told me just how much he was holding back, easing the cool ridge of his piercing inside.
Drawing a shaking breath, I savoured the way my body stretched for him. Like the wild drumming of Calan Mai, my pulse pounded in my chest and throat and around his length.
A question raised his eyebrows, and I nodded. I was fine—more than fine. I could take more. With a low groan, he slid that last inch home.
“Bastian.” I pressed my forehead to his, catching my breath and adjusting to the sensation—the pleasured fullness that was not quite pain.
“You feel…” He shook his head and kissed me. “Incredible. Impossible.”
Gradually, he withdrew, and I whimpered at the contrast of how empty that left me. His piercing sliding out seized my breath, pleasure streaking through me.
He wore a pleased smirk. “You like that?”
I nodded and edged closer, aching to have him back inside me.
“Tell me. I want to hear you.”
“I like it. Give me more.”
A soft laugh, then his gaze slid to my fingers, which were pale against the dark wall. “Hmm.” He nestled at my entrance. “Let go, love.” His voice went raw as he thrust into me, faster but shallower this time. “Let go of everything else and just be here with me, now.” He gathered my hand and kissed my fingertips. “There is nothing else. Just this. Just us.”
I hadn’t even realised I’d been holding on until with his next thrust I exhaled a moan and the purple stains crept over my fingers. For the first time since waking up in Elfhame, I gave up trying to hold them back.
“That’s it. You can be yourself with me—all of yourself.” With another kiss, he drove into me again.
Each time, a little deeper, a little harder—letting me acclimatise, I now understood. The feel of him skimming along my clit, filling me before pulling out again, sparked along my nerves. So bright, it was as though part of them had been consumed with trying to control my magic and now they were free.