Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,66

shimmered between brown and gold, like he was struggling against his inner beast. Fighting for control—for me, for my comfort.

“Hell yes,” I whispered back. I stroked his hands as they held me, then his cheek, the coarse stubble along his jaw, my smile blooming into something tender. There he was—a glimmer of the good guy I knew Elijah to be. Concerned. Thoughtful. Patient. Checking on me, making sure I was okay. The fact that he could be both, that he possessed such an exquisite duality, only made me want him more. Knowing he was still in there beneath the rugged, harsh exterior, beneath the glittering gold, the animalistic snarls, had me craving both sides of him.

In different circumstances, somewhere far away from here, he could ravish me all night long, fuck me within an inch of my life while I screamed for more, and then after, Elijah could be tender. He could cuddle me, hold me until dawn. He was my silver lining in Xargi. Him and Rafe, two men who intrigued me, two men who I’d quickly and unwillingly become infatuated with, were the only things keeping me from falling apart and giving up. This should have felt like a mistake, like I was ruining what we had and sullying the status quo. Instead, I swept his hair back, then rocked my hips. “Don’t stop.”

Elijah ducked his head with a groan, then nipped at my palm, my lower lip, and kissed me like he wanted to claim me. The first harsh thrust had me seeing stars, the sweetest ache burning bright between my thighs. Nibbling a blazing path down my throat, Elijah gripped me by the thighs again, almost like he was determined to bruise me, mark me, then pumped hard and fast, furiously driving me into the door.

Hopefully Jensen hadn’t meandered back in, because there was no subtlety in the way the door creaked and groaned, in the rapid-fire thump of my hips against the wood. If I could walk after this without limping, it would be a miracle—but in that moment, I preferred the limp.

Needed the brutality.

Craved this dragon’s fire.

Time fell away around us, and what could have easily been minutes or hours later, I imploded in his arms. My climax came out of nowhere, bright as the north star, savage as Elijah’s snarls, ripping through me like raging floodwaters hellbent on destruction. It soaked me from head to toe, fire in my blood, pleasure blooming like fireworks again—like a whole display of them, one explosion after another. I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle a sob, but Elijah soon yanked it aside, replacing mine with his, driving into me harder, faster, prolonging the ecstasy until I thought I’d just die.

But… what a way to go.

Elijah’s pace stuttered for the first time since he’d started, faltering from a savage pounding to a breathtaking grind, milking another ounce of bliss out of me. His hand clamped down harder over my mouth to silence my cries, and my heart leapt into my throat at the first true brush of teeth over my shoulder. I blinked hurriedly, the dim pantry coming back into focus, his teeth so sharp and present.

I’d heard shifters bit their lovers.

Sometimes they marked them, the scarring permanent.

But that only happened when the pair were—

“Fuck, Katja—fuck,” Elijah gritted out, his teeth replaced by his lips, dragging an openmouthed kiss along my shoulder and up my neck. He nipped at my ear when he finally stilled, hips jerking ever so slightly, spilling himself inside me. That little nibble wasn’t what I imagined a shifter’s bite to feel like. It… It wasn’t. He hadn’t marked me.

I let it go, ignoring the thought as best I could, hating the bitter stab of loss in my chest. Because I hadn’t lost anything. The sex had been spectacular—best I’d ever had, despite the circumstances.

So…

Why did I feel like something was missing?

We untangled slowly, neither of us ready to stop touching the other just yet, all lingering caresses and brushing hands and bodies hovering in personal bubbles. A heavy, tangible silence hung over the pantry, one that surprisingly didn’t make me nervous. Sure, I wasn’t smiling like an idiot after a phenomenal orgasm or anything, and neither was Elijah, but it wasn’t guilt thickening the air. That didn’t slow my movements or make my mind sluggish.

As soon as I straightened, panties on, something oozed out of me—something hot and sticky. Elijah glanced my way, eyes dipping down to my thighs, and