pumps into me once more. Not as hard, but when his hips begin to rock in a steady rhythm, it sends all kinds of new sensations through me. I don’t know if this is better or worse—killing me fast with each hard, rough stroke, or killing me with small, quick pumps.
All I know is that it all feels amazing.
“You’re mine,” he whispers as I cling to him and try to set pace with his rhythm. He moves so fast that all I can do is hang on to him while he fucks me. As he moves, his hands go back to my hips and then he’s drawing me down with rough strokes even as he spears into me, making each thrust as hard and fierce as he can.
And oh god, it’s so good that it doesn’t take long for that tingle to spiral through my belly. He’s not even rubbing my clit and I feel as if I’m going to come. “Aron,” I pant. “Fuck, Aron, I need—”
“I know,” he murmurs, and then, impossibly, shifts the angle of his thrusts.
I cry out as it rubs something inside me, something white hot and so good that my legs jerk like a puppet’s, and then I’m coming, everything clenching and growing tight as he fucks the hell out of me. He growls low in his throat again, and his thrusts change, becoming hard and rough, and thunder crashes overhead as he comes, burying his face against my throat as I gasp for breath.
We rest against the wall, panting and breathless, until I’m vaguely aware that the insides of my thighs are sticky with come, both his and mine, and I’ve thrown my head back so often that half of my hair feels stuck to the spiderwebs on the wall. Aron lazily kisses my neck, pressing his lips to my pulse. I’m not ready to move yet.
My stomach growls.
Aron chuckles. “Hungry?”
“Always,” I admit.
He leans in and kisses me again, this time softer, gentler, and then he eases his cock out of me, leaving me feeling as hollow as one of those chocolate Easter bunnies. I wonder if anyone would notice if I walked bow-legged back up to our rooms? Probably.
Aron sets me down gently on the ground and my knees wobble, and I have to lean on him for support. This time, he frowns. “You are weak?”
“Aron,” I say, exasperated. “You just fucked the shit out of me. Of course I’m weak in the knees.”
He studies me, as if to reassure himself, and then the look he gives me is definitely post-coital smugness. “I was excellent, wasn’t I? Not rusty at all.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not giving you a trophy, if that’s what you’re aiming for. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that your other Aspect slept with Yulenna. You’re not as unskilled as you pretend.”
Aron grunts at that and helps me adjust my skirts. “I thought about it for a while, because she holds no interest for me and I tried to understand my other Aspect. Why he would do that.”
“What was the reason, then?”
“The wizard must have wanted her. I—that Aron—would have taken her just to prove he could.”
“Well that sounds dickish.”
“I never said I was a nice man, Faith. Or that I was a just god. I am a god of battle.” He caresses my cheek, gazing at me thoughtfully. “And of storms. That means I have a temper. I rush into decisions. But I will never touch another human, not when I have you. So you need not worry over such things.”
“Oh, I’m not worried.” And I’m not. Aron could have had Yulenna a hundred times over. It doesn’t matter that she’s upstairs messing around with Solat. She’s made it quite clear that she’s here for Aron’s pleasure and no one else’s. As for Aron? He’s pretty much looked at her like he’s looked at the others - as people to be tolerated, not enjoyed. Strangely enough, I’m not threatened. I smile fondly as he carefully pulls my hair free from the spiderwebs on the wall, because even now he’s taking care of me.
“What made you change your mind?” I have to ask. “You said it was a bad idea for us to get together.”
“It is.” He frees the last bit of my hair and then puts an arm around my waist. “It’s a mistake for any warlord to focus on anything but the battle at hand. You are a distraction I don’t need, but I am already lost.” His