Chapter 84 Next full moon
SOMA
My body moves. I hate that it does, but I obey Brynne. Before I can switch back to my former position, he’s behind me. With deft fingers, he slides my backpack off my arms and tosses it in the corner. With that gone, he leans in, and I feel his bulge against my ass. I suck in a shaky breath, my thighs trembling at the thought of what he could do to me here.
Brynne cups my hips, his hands sliding up to lace with mine above my head. He’s so close I feel every inch of his muscle and the frantic rhythm of his heart. When his breath caresses my neck, I say the first thing I think of.
“Did you, did you take me to my room last night?”
He licks behind my ear. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Rotating his hips causes his erection to dig deeper into my ass. Tingles drag across my entire body, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from gasping or leaning back into him for more. My body lights up, wanting him to remove the flimsy barrier between us.
“Why not?”
“You could have woken me up,” I spit out.
“And ruin your sleep?”
Since when does he care? I make a sound of protest, and he spins me so fast I can’t process it. His mouth crashes over mine, and the taste of chocolate floods me.
Common sense demands I shove him, but that’s the last thing I do or want. He nips my lip, and I lose a sense of time and everything else. When his tongue pushes into my mouth, trying to taste me, I let him in.
A moan escapes, and his hands slide down to cup my ass. Tearing his lips away from mine, he tells me, “You look so beautiful when you sleep, I couldn’t possibly wake you up.”
How did we get here?
Brynne watches me with a smile, his finger dragging across my bottom lip while I try to catch my breath. He’s like a seed that has taken root in my heart. It’s not fully germinated, but I’m familiar with it—him now. I crave him when I shouldn’t. When I should push him away. This isn’t normal.
He captures my lips again, giving me no chance to act on my hesitation. A hand slides under my dress, cupping my center, and I rock against it, hoping he’ll use his fingers on me again. As soon as that thought settles, I blanch, but something within me giggles at the idea and aches for more.
When he grabs my hand, guiding it toward his thick, pulsing erection, I shove him. Precum beads at the tip, a few drops spilling onto his piercing. I force my gaze away from the beautiful view, hating how conflicted I am. Hating how much I hate him as much as I want certain parts of him.
“Stop avoiding it,” he says. We both pant heavily, my lips probably as swollen as his. “We have a connection.”
My throat tightens, and tears spring to my eyes. I hate that he’s right so much that I want to hit him. It might be only sexual, but it’s too much of a connection to share with him.
He places one hand beside my head, his other cradling my jaw so he can kiss me again. As his lips draw close, I look away. I don’t know his intentions, but I’m certain this is a game to him. A sick, twisted game. Once he’s done playing with me, he’ll return to his true lover to laugh at my pathetic self, at how easily I succumbed to him.
“Come on,” he mutters.
“I’m not interested in kissing someone else’s boyfriend.”
“Who says I’m with anyone?”
“Helga—”
“Means nothing to me,” he cuts in. “We haven’t even fucked.”
“Right.”
He grins. “You can ask her.”
Does he think I’m stupid?
“I saw you two,” I remind him. “In your room.”
“Because that’s what I wanted you to see,” he says. He twirls a strand of my hair around his finger, acting like we’re two lovers having a casual conversation. But I can’t bring myself to push him away. His proximity is calming. “I controlled the situation.”
“Whatever that means, I don’t want to know,” I tell him. He stares at my lips, his intention obvious. If he kisses me again, I don’t think I’ll be able to resist him, so I ask, “What did the priestess say? Did she perform the ritual?”
Brynne takes a step back, bringing attention to his length, and I whimper. He’s still too hard, his tip flushed dark pink from all the blood collecting in one spot. Doesn’t that hurt? I’ve never had a penis in my mouth, but the thought of him down my throat doesn’t scare me.
“Suck my dick,” he says, “and I’ll tell you.”
The request makes my nipples bead. I press my knees together, knowing he’ll find me wanting it if he checks.
“Forget about it then,” I say. When he closes the gap, an unrecognizable part of me hopes he forces me to my knees so I’ll take him. That way, I won’t feel so bad about wanting him. But he chuckles and curls my arms around his neck. His lips brush mine, and I whisper, “Brynne. Your highness—”
“You want this too,” he tells me.
This time, he locks eyes with me, his head coming down slowly as if giving me a chance to end it or refuse him. When his mouth covers mine, I stop trying to fight him.
The protest in my chest crumbles into something softer, something I don’t recognize. Though the door is cold against my back, everywhere he touches burns.
My fingers twitch against his chest. They’re meant to push him away, but instead they curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His hand slides up my arm, steady but trembling slightly, as if he’s as unsure as I am.
The kiss deepens. It’s not rushed or gentle, but hungry enough to make my pulse trip and my knees weaken. He lifts me into his arms, walking us to the couch. Without breaking off the kiss, he drops down into it and pulls me against him. His dick lies heavy between us, but we both pay no attention to it, not even when it jerks softly.
When he finally withdraws, neither of us moves. Our foreheads touch. His chest rises and falls against mine, becoming steady while I try to remember how to breathe.
He exhales against my lips, a rough sound that sends a shiver down my spine. The warmth of his palm seeps into my skin when he cups the side of my face.
“She wanted me to take care of you,” he whispers.
“I don’t need you to take care of me.” He brushes his lips against mine in a chaste kiss, shutting me up. I groan, unable to summon anger. “What about the ritual?”
Brynne brings my head down to his chest, his fingers threading into my hair. “Next full moon.”
I’m here to read, but this moment feels so good that I don’t want to move. This doesn’t change my opinion of him, but I let myself relax into him and enjoy his rare moment of niceness.