Never would he forget how she waited for him, on her knees at the edge of the bed, braced on her elbows and ass upraised, as if the pleasure her cunt would give was an offering to him. Yet it was Aerax who would worship her on this altar of a bed, and he knew not what Vela had meant when she’d told him to become what he truly was—but his own meaning he found in Lizzan. He was the man who would do anything to see her safe. He was the man who would protect her with his very life. He was the man who would love her until the sky burned Temra to ash.
He was Lizzan’s. Fully and truly Lizzan’s.
Nothing else Aerax ever became would mean more than that.
And if there was pleasure to offer, it would be his to give. He’d told her to wait in the manner that she wished to be fucked, so no time did he waste before sinking full deep into the hot grip of her cunt. The sound she made was half gasp and half scream, her spine arching until her breasts pressed into the bed. Bending over her with his weight braced on his left hand, with his right hand Aerax played with her clit and his hips began a slow thrust.
“In this way, Lizzan?” he grunted against her ear. “Is this how you wish to be fucked? Mounted by your feral prince until your tight cunt teases the seed from his cock?”
Her sheath clenched as if his every word were a lick to her clit. An urgent cry muffled against the sheets was her response, its silent echo the slippery wetness against his fingers.
“So hot and slick you are, it will not take long.” Already pressure built at the base of his spine as he stroked deep, over and over, until her breaths were coming in sobbing gasps and her ass was grinding back against him. “Then I will kiss every span of your skin before having you on your back, legs widespread as I fuck into you again.”
“And again and again,” she demanded breathlessly, for it was Aerax who’d been restrained but only because one of them needed to be, and Lizzan had always been as hungry as he. “But harder now, Aerax. Please.”
Always he would give what she needed. Gritting his teeth, he surged deep, fingers working her clit to the same brutal rhythm, fighting the nearing of his own release though her need gleamed slick on his shaft, though the tight clutch of her sheath on the length of his arousal drove him full mad, though the slap of wet flesh and her breathy cries were sweeter than all of his dreams. Then she stiffened, gripping the sheets as if to pull away from the ecstasy bearing down on her and he dragged her back onto his cock as her cunt began seizing upon him. No longer did he hold back then, fucking in short savage thrusts until the force of his own need emptied his seed deep into her quivering flesh.
Lizzan lay beneath him, shuddering and then smiling when he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, then began kissing his way down her spine.
Slowly he fulfilled his promise, kissing every span of her skin before spreading her thighs and sinking into her again.
And again and again, until even her mouth would barely stir his spent flesh, and the softest brush of his tongue on her oversensitized clit made her push him away. There they lay together, all quiet but for their breaths, until Lizzan made a sound of amusement.
He swept his fingers through her hair. “What is it?”
“It is no different,” she said softly, lifting her head from his shoulder to look down at him. “Restrained and unrestrained. Always at the end, I feel in this same way.”
That was truth. For although there was no greater physical pleasure than being inside her as she came on his cock, lying together with her now was the same as it had always been. All sweetness, all contentment.
“But I know the reason,” she continued, fingers drifting through the hair on his chest and resting her palm over his heart. “Never have you been restrained in the pleasure you give to me, and never have you held back your heart. So always I end here in this way, so utterly satisfied and fully loved, the most blessed of all women.”