His fingers found me, already wet, already aching and slid inside me without warning. I cried out, my nails clawing at his back as he set a ruthless rhythm with his fingers. His mouth was closing around my nipple, drawing another broken sound from me.
My thoughts were completely shattered. There was only him, his hands, his mouth, the way he drew reactions from my body I couldn’t control, arching me helplessly into his touch.
When his fingers finally pushed me over the edge, the pleasure ripped through me so fast it stole my breath. And almost immediately, disappointment followed. I already missed him. Missed the way he made me feel undone.
Lorik studied me as I stood there, still panting and my body trembling. I wanted more of him, even though he’d already given me everything. It still wasn’t enough.
I couldn’t stand that he was seeing all of me, wrecked, open, craving, while he was still only half undressed. With one clean, desperate motion, I shoved his pajama pants down, freeing his hard length. My hand wrapped around him, squeezing firmly, confidently, and claiming.
A low, rough growl tore from his chest.
“You are going to be the end of me,” Lorik breathed, his voice strained, barely holding together.
His mouth crashed into mine with bruising force, reckless and hungry, and I welcomed it. Our tongues tangled as I moved against him, slow at first, then harder, needing to feel every reaction I pulled from him, needing to feel him lose control the way I already had.
The Moonveil in front of me was not the disciplined and restrained one I knew. That version was gone, and in its place stood something raw and wild, his desire pressed against mine, fierce and unyielding, mirroring the ache bearing tight in my chest. We had waited too long, that much was clear.
“Take me to your room,” I demanded. “Now.” The world blurred.
Seconds later, we were there. He lifted me easily, my legs locking around his waist as he carried me to the bed and laid me back against the cool sheets. His body filled the space between my thighs, his head pressing insistently where I needed him most.
His lips parted as if he were about to ask for permission again. Before he could, I spoke, cutting through the hesitation with a certainty that surprised even me.
Lorik had drawn something to the surface inside me, a version of the princess I barely recognized. One driven by want, by pleasure, by the undeniable truth that there was only one person who could undo me. Him.
“I want you,” I said.
Lorik’s eyes darkened, something dangerous flickering there as he didn’t hesitate. I had given the Moonveil permission. Permission to cross the line, to drag us both into madness.
He pushed himself inside me in one firm thrust, stealing the air from my lungs as my body stretched to take him. My back arched instinctively, his name tearing from my throat as a raw sound rumbled from his chest, wild and unrestrained.
He stayed there for a moment, filling me so deeply it felt deliberate, as if he were savoring my complete undoing. My hips rocked helplessly beneath him, instinctively begging for more. No, I was demanding it.
Then, finally, he moved.
He set a perfect rhythm, slow at first, then relentless. Each thrust stole more of my breath, scattered my thoughts further, until I couldn’t tell where I ended, and he began. There was only the motion, the heat, the way he made me feel.
“More,” I murmured into his ear, grabbing him where I could to bring me closer to him. I didn’t begin to have enough of him.
There would never be enough of his scent, his body, his strength. I shattered. I saw stars as he drove me to a pleasure I had never felt. My breath was short, and I was asking for it.
“Don’t hold back. Be loud,” Lorik said while driving me into madness again. “We will wake up the whole Nacht Tower,” I said, between my breaths.
“I have an auroric silencing veil around my room. Scream all you want.” He challenged me.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking him to me, refusing to let him pull away. Lorik Draventh was mine in that moment, and I was his. I moved my hips to match him, demanding more, demanding all of him.
My moan filled the room, raw with need, with want, with the ache of being taken exactly the way I craved.
I held his gaze. If there was silver in his eyes, I couldn’t see it. Lust had stripped away his
faction and danger alike, leaving only the male I wanted. The male who craved me, hovering on the edge of his own unraveling.
I watched him give in to it, his control slipping as his movements grew stronger, faster, and desperate.
Lorik let out a final, rough sound, low and broken, as he gave in to me. He pushed into me once more, deep and claiming, as if he still weren’t ready to let go. As if he wanted—needed—more.
We stayed like that, foreheads nearly touching, breathing hard, saying nothing. Words weren’t needed.