Bound to the Battle God - Ruby Dixon Page 0,187

confused, and in the next moment, I feel it.

Oh fuck. He’s tickling something deep inside me and oh fuck, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt. My hips surge off the chair and I cry out, the fruit forgotten. It slides out of my grip and slaps wetly on the floor as my hands go to his head. Impatiently, he lifts one of my clamping thighs and pushes it over the arm of the chair, making sure that I remain spread wide for his pleasure.

Because even though this is turning me inside out with ecstasy, I know this is for his pleasure, too. He rubs my G-spot as his mouth moves over my clit, and I’m babbling his name and clutching at his long hair even as he makes me come so hard that it feels like the thunder crashing outside is in my veins. He continues to lick and suck at my clit, finger working inside me as my hips buck with the force of my orgasm. Aron’s determined to wring out every bit of pleasure from me, and it feels like he makes it go on forever, beyond the point of comfort, but he won’t pull away, no matter how many times I tug on his hair or pant his name.

Aron finally listens for my pleas for him to stop, that I can’t possibly come any longer, and lifts his head to give me the most arrogant, most Aron smile ever. “I liked that.”

Oh god. I’m totally going to melt into a puddle at the sight of that smile. “Yeah,” I manage breathlessly. “That was pretty good.”

He arches that scarred eyebrow. “Only pretty good?”

He starts to lower his head again and I squeak, grabbing his hair before he can go down on me again. “W-wait! Wait. I need to catch my breath.”

I love the rumble of his laughter. He merely kisses the inside of my thigh, slides my legs together, and gets to his feet. He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet, then tugs me into his arms and kisses me so hard that I’m left dazed. The taste of my orgasm is all over his mouth, and I find it strangely erotic to taste myself on his tongue. I cling to him as his mouth lazily explores mine, lost in the play of our lips.

Aron caresses my head, his fingers in my hair, and then nips lightly at my mouth. “Shall we climb into bed?”

Bed? I nod, dazed. I’m tired, but more than that, I want him to hold me. Bed sounds like a very good idea right about now.

He slips an arm behind my thighs and lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bed like a bride on our wedding night. In a way, I guess this kind of feels like one. I feel as if Aron and I are starting a new life together. Instead of just anchor and Aspect, we’re man and woman, together.

I won’t think about the future. Not right now. Not until we leave this tower. It can wait. It can all wait.

Aron’s gaze is locked on me as he gently pulls the buckles free of my wide belt and then slowly removes my long gown. When I’m naked on the bed, he straightens and begins to undress. I always forget just how powerful Aron’s body is. There’s not an inch of fat on him, and he’s all corded muscle and obliques. His six-pack ripples down his abdomen, and he’s no longer as pale as he was when I met him, as if he’s gained color—and life—simply by being in this world. Scars cover practically every inch of his skin, though, and I forget just how many he has until he undresses and shows me again. The long-healed gashes show red and sometimes white against his skin, some smaller and rougher, others large and long and deadly. The one on his face that crisscrosses over his green eye is the one I’m most familiar with, and I look up at him, worried. So many scars. So many brutal battles. Seeing him like this can get a little overwhelming, and every mark of a blade on him is a reminder that we might not win.

“You’re frowning. Do you not like my scars?” Aron asks, and there’s amusement in his voice as he stands over the edge of the bed, looming in that arrogant way of his. Of course he’s arrogant. He’s a god, but more than