Read Part One HereHis hands coasted down her waist before cupping her hips. Those hands were gentle, but a constant weight over the scars that crisscrossed there, as he suckled her sensitive breasts. She wanted to squirm, felt her body ache with it, but she couldn’t. Trapped by his hold, unwilling to either give up the pleasure he was giving nor risk pressing too close or too hard against his hands, she stayed still under his attention. She had no choice but to surrender to him.
It’d been a long time since she’d surrendered to anyone. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d done so willingly. Yet with Mac, she did, giving to him. Safe in the knowledge that, whatever she gave, he might take, but he would give back. She could give him control in this moment because, once it was done, he would never try to keep it. She could give herself over to him because she could feel, even in this moment, him give himself to her too.
So when his kisses headed south, she parted her legs for him, grateful when his hands moved with her, followed her every shift as if this were a dance they’d done a thousand times.
And, as if proving this was a deliberate act, he teased her with his teeth, nipping her waist, her belly, her inner thigh, making her jerk and yelp, as much from his playful bites as the sudden press against his palms. It was strange how the controlled shock made the sting different. It hurt, but the pain was quick, a sharp spark that was over before her mind could even fully register it, leaving a sizzling heat in its wake.
It shouldn’t have turned her on, but it did. The sensation of it, sure, but also just the thought that it was Mac doing this to her, causing this overwhelming whirlwind within her. It was its own kind of magic.
And then his mouth was on her. He licked at her labia, tracing every dip and vale of her heat swollen flesh, making her slicker as his tongue lapped at her. The tip of his tongue plunged deeper, flicking against her opening in a tantalizing tease. By the time his lips wrapped around her clit, sucking her deep while his tongue laved, she wanted to weep with want. She gripped the bedsheets as desperate sounds slipped past her lips. Her back arched as she sought to press herself deeper into his touch.
When his hands gripped her hips harder to hold her in place like an anchor, the pain of it only added to the sensations threatening to drown her. She cried out, her eyes blinking blankly, while her world exploded into pleasure. Her hand reached out to hold Mac’s against her hip, that touch grounding her while the rest of her world washed away.
Mac winced. He wanted to roll his stiff wrist. Wanted to take his hand away from her flesh, feeling the power against his palm like the threat of a stove.
But instead he just lay there between her limp thighs while her body shook with an orgasm that hit her in waves. Her strong body so vulnerable, almost fragile, before him.
Except for her hold on him. Her hand on his gripped him, held him still. He could feel her life in that touch. The pain of her past, sure, he felt that like a blistering pulse against his palm. But also the strength of who that past help shape. This was who she was. More than her power, this was why her world trusted her with Faere Trade, with one of the most significant haven places, a space that kept the peace and kept its people safe. For better or worse, she’d seen, done, and been more than most could even imagine.
And, after all of that, she’d been chosen, and more importantly she chose, to protect her people.
She was amazing.
Stretching forward, he kissed her hand, fancying he could feel that touch travel through her hand, through his, and into her.
He knew it couldn’t. Sex, even great sex, didn’t fix anything. Couldn’t heal. It wasn’t magic and neither was he. The only reason why he was even here, in her world, in her bed, was because magic had happened to him.
He knew that he couldn't take away her pain, couldn't change the past that had made her who she was today. Wasn't entirely sure he'd want to, even if he could—after all, who would anyone be without their past?
Still, with his lips against her skin, he furrowed his brow and wondered if there was anything anyone could do to make it better. Wounds were supposed to heal, weren’t they? Even if the scars lingered, the pain wasn’t supposed to. With all this woman had been through and all that she gave back, there had to be something someone could do.
He felt her hand, warm and soft, settle over the crown of his head. “Thank you.”
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