Filed to story: When the Moon Hatched Book
Not just closer …
As close as we can be.
This strangest need to kiss him surges through my veins. For us to clash against each other until we fuse in intangible ways. To taste him and feel him move inside me …
A luscious, hungry shudder crawls up my spine.
Another flash of lightning ignites the fierceness in his stare, and his chest deflates, like all the breath just shoved from his lungs.
Slower than a rising aurora, he pulls his arms from beneath the pillow, one strong hand settling on my hip. Gripping hard. The other settles around the side of my face, cupping it in a way that feels so jarringly familiar. So right it makes me want to crack my aching heart into shards because it’s obviously confused.
“I see you, Raeve …”
My breath hitches, the scale still indenting Kaan’s throat. “I don’t … I don’t know what—“
“You,” he growls, tightening his hand around the side of my face with a tender jerk, eyes lit with a soul-crushing blaze. “I fucking see you.”
His voice is a jagged wound—raw and grisly. Painful in a way that makes that sensation in my chest ache with a deeper, more destructive throb I’m so desperate to dislodge. Or at the very least, distract myself from.
It’s too real. Too piercing.
And this …
Why does this feel so right?
The room ignites again, illuminating him in devastating detail. Strong, proud body slashed in too many scars to count, hair mussed, lips a perfect pillowy shape I imagine pressed against mine, moving with mine, claiming mine—
Fuck.
“What do you need, Moonbeam?”
To scratch this primal itch in the hopes it’ll assuage the emotional blade now lodged in my chest.
With fumbled motions, I reach for my waistband, untethering the bind and loosening the cinched material before grabbing his hand that’s sitting on my hip and urging it down the front of me.
A rumbling sound spawns in his chest, vibrating up my spread legs where it meets my tender core now pulsing with a hungry beat. A sensation I intend to fall into—headfirst with a blindfold on.
“You want me to touch you?”
The words are a flint scored down my spine.
Lower.
My muscles loosen, making my flesh heat as I nod—the motion fast and desperate. “Yes,” I plead, grinding my hips, trying to rock myself against his fingers that aren’t quite where I want them. “Please.”
He growls, his thick manhood swelling beneath my ass, growing impossibly hard. Another grind of my hips ignites every nerve in that sensitive spot between my legs, and I groan, this deep, heady sound that’s like a wanton fracture in the room.
Kaan pushes his hand closer toward my aching center, making my flesh pebble, my nipples pinching into hard, sensitive peaks from the coarse feel of his skin against my needy softness.
I throb with anticipation, knowing he’s close.
So close.
Another hitch of my breath as his finger sweeps across my wet flesh, the tender tease zapping me with a ravenous bolt of pleasure.
“Cut me if you want me to stop,” he rasps, his thumb sliding across my cheekbone. “I’ll gladly bleed beneath you, so don’t be shy.”
“Touch me,”
I groan, my voice shrill with a neediness I don’t recognize.
Not in myself.
His fingers skim my stretched expanse, feathering around my flushed, swollen slit.
My mind muddies—
empties
—another deep, heady groan pouring up my throat.
He makes a gravelly sound as he traces a path around me, slow, steady circles that wind me up and unravel me in the same luscious motion. His other hand drops from my face and weaves beneath my stolen shirt, palming my aching breast, tweaking my nipple, sending zings of electric pleasure through all my fine ligaments.
Fuck.
I let my head tip back, bottom lip tucked between my teeth.
Surrender to his ministrations.
“More,” I groan, and he pinches the sensitive peak. I gasp, my attention tuned to my breasts, then struck with a bolt of shock when he sinks two fingers into me.
I moan to the slashing sky as he pumps them deep, then stills.
Holds them there.
Another flick of my nipple, another zing of pleasure that pours into my throbbing core. “Take what you want, Moonbeam.”
The words till something inside me, my mind drifting somewhere bright and breezy.
A dream, maybe.
Somewhere that smells like salt, spices, and sweet, succulent flowers. A place where the only thing that matters is …
this.
Us.
I snap from the luminous tendril of thought woven up from beneath my icy lake.
Desperate to scrub that beautiful, impossible feeling of rightness from my chest, I chase the pulse of rapture between my spread thighs. A heady, primal distraction that I can make sense of.
“I need you,” I groan, tossing the scale aside, hearing it clatter across the ground. “Now.”
“You fucking have me.”
“No, I need you,”
I growl, trying to tip us sideways.
Seeming to catch on, he makes this throaty sound, and in one swift, powerful motion, he flips us, making my breath catch.
He shoves my pants down and tosses them aside, my legs now splayed beneath him. Flushed core bared, aching and ready to take his thick, hard length now resting against the inside of my naked thigh.
I’m just about to reach down and grab him—to guide him toward my throbbing entrance—when I catch him looking at me with the intensity of a chapped wasteland desperate for even a drop of rain. The sort of look that consumes. That clutches heartstrings and braids them together for eternity … forever bonded.
Can’t he see that my heartstrings are stubby and frayed?
He grips my leg with one of his calloused hands, right up by my knee. Widening me. The other comes up and cups the side of my face with captivating tenderness, his thumb dragging back and forth across my parted lips.
My pulse slows …
Stills.
He’s so beautiful, poured over me like molten lava. So, so fucking beautiful that it’s tempting to let him fall into the illusion I think he’s woven over me.