CHAPTER 73
JINGYI
This kiss was deeper, hungrier—a claiming that trembled with all the nights they’d gone without. She parted her lips and returned it with equal ardour.
He lifted her, carried her past the swaying curtains, and laid her on the bed beneath the gossamer canopy. She looked up at him, chest rising fast.
He made quick work of her nightgown. His mouth found her neck—a hot, open kiss—then trailed lower, over her throat and collarbone. He lingered there, breathing her in. Then his lips found the swell of her breast, pressing a kiss just above her frantic heart before taking her nipple into his mouth. She trembled beneath him.
“You are . . .” he murmured against her feverish skin, “ . . .a miracle.”
His mouth dipped lower, down her stomach. He reached the gentle slope of her hip—the one that often ached—and anchored a kiss there. Then another, just above her inner thigh. A sob caught in her throat, but Alexander didn’t stop. His lips trailed down her wounded leg, worshipping the very source of her limp and transforming it into an altar.
Calloused hands parted her. His palm slid beneath her right knee, nudging a silk cushion into place. The deliberate care of it—this warrior tending to her comfort—unravelled her.
Then he lowered his face between her parted thighs. He groaned—a raw, broken sound. “Gods, JingYi . . . You smell of rain and sunlight.”
He bowed his head and laid his tongue against her in one long stroke. Her spine arched off the bed, fingers twisting into the sheets. He licked again, firmer, dipping inside. The sound he made was pure, desperate need.
“Alexander—” His name shattered on her lips.
He flattened his tongue and dragged it through her seam, then focused on the aching core of her, teasing the swollen nerve with soft, maddening circles. A wave of sensation crashed over her. Her back arched, hips lifting—a movement that sent a lightning bolt of strain through her weak side.
Alexander’s hand pressed to her lower belly, anchoring her. “Shhh, I have you. Let me learn you. Let me worship every part of you.”
He devoured her with patience, mapping her responses with his mouth. When he finally slipped one finger inside her, then two, she clenched around him, so close she could barely breathe.
He lifted his head, lips glistening, eyes burning. “Come for me. Let me watch you fall apart. I will catch you. I will always catch you.”
The coil snapped. Her release tore through her—a searing wave that bowed her body and broke a long, shuddering moan from her throat. He gentled her through it until she lay spent. Boneless. Gasping.
Only then did he rise, crawling back up her body to hover above her. His eyes, when they met hers, held not just satisfaction, but a profound, soul-deep reverence. He kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips.
“Alexander,” she breathed, her hands slipping down his arms. “That was . . .” Small tremors of pleasure still coursed through her, stealing all her words.
When he pulled back, his eyes were dark, asking a silent question. She reached for the fastenings of his robe. Her fingers, still unsteady from her climax, fumbled on the ties.
“Let me,” he told her. He made quick work of his clothing, tossing them to join hers on the floor.
Naked, he shifted above her, knees settling on either side of her hips. His torso was so broad he blocked the lamplight, casting her in shadows. The sight of him there, hovering, face taut with a need so raw it stole her breath, sent fresh heat through her.
She watched as his hand slid down his abdomen. His breath hitched as his fingers wrapped around himself and gave a slow stroke. The groan that followed was pure agony. His head fell back, the cords of his neck standing out in relief.
“Alexander.”
His gaze snapped to hers, blazing.
“Come here,” she said, reaching for him. “I want to pleasure you.”
A shudder wracked him. He moved as if pulled by her words alone, shifting forward on his knees until he straddled her torso, his hands gripping the bed frame behind her.
He was utterly exposed this way. Her world narrowed to the sight of him—the sweat-sheened muscles of his stomach, the thick length of him jutting toward her.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She knew the theory, had heard the whispers, but this was all new—the weight, the scent, the vulnerability in his stillness. She leaned in, her breath ghosting over him, and heard a sharp intake of air above her.
She began with a tentative lick from root to tip. He jerked as if branded, a punched-out grunt escaping him. Encouraged,she focused on the broad head, swirling her tongue around the crown, tracing the sensitive seam beneath. A broken whimper fell from his lips. She closed her lips over him and gently sucked.
His answering groan was ragged. The bed frame creaked under the strain of his grip.