Taming the Queen of Beasts

AARYN

His entire body was aflame with a fizzing, sparkling love for her. His initial fear, the thoughts of losing her had driven him to pull her close. But as he did, as he stroked and kissed and tasted her skin, the fear morphed, become a shining, crystalline light that drew him, guided him, like the north star. 

He could not express the feelings welling in his chest with words. They defied articulation. He could only show her—fluttering touches to her cheek that was rosy and warm. Breathless kisses to her throat that she'd offered so willingly it humbled him. Groaning calls that spoke to the surge in his soul when she was close. The warmth of skin-on-skin, the featherlight stroke of fingers, hands, mouths…

He wallowed in her. He worshiped her. He prayed she could feel it. 

When he sank between her thighs, he braced himself on his elbows, framed her head with his hands and kissed her, shaking with restraint and sheer love. He savored the sweetness of her mouth, the ripple of her body, the hush of her breath.

Then he rolled against her and she arched, mouth open, unbreathing, her hands gripping his back, pulling at him. But he didn't give in to her urging, needing still more moments to taste her, to tease and to slide, to let the desire with him—fueled by love and the utmost value—build. To show her in a cascade of sensation, what he wanted and why.

She was precious. So utterly precious. He would take her within himself if he could, hold her away from the world to keep her safe. But the world needed her. He needed her. And so, he showed her with every touch and every taste, the value he placed on her. 

She was invaluable. Cherished. 

She was his prize. 

Everything within him expanded. His hands shook as he reached for her, stroked her hair. His breath shuddered as he kissed her. Everything within him ached, drove him towards her, and still he held back. Just for a breath.

Then stroking one hand up her thigh, he cupped it behind her knee and pulled her leg up. She arched, her voice breaking in her throat when he finally entered her, his body electric and gasping with the dazzling explosion of pleasure and sensation that washed over him from crown to toe.

Aaryn groaned the mating call, and she answered—her voice higher, sweeter than his, but her love no less deep. He shook with the urge to possess her, but pulled himself back, held himself in check, awed by the rushing, exhilaration of touching her.

He began to paint her with kisses, with the touch of his fingers, with the wash of his breath. Everywhere he touched her skin pebbled. She gasped and arched into him as he continued to roll into her slowly, pulling almost all the way out, only to slide back inside in a groaning hush.

Hands all over her body, she froze and held at the peak of each slow thrust, her head thrown back and throat bare. He tasted her again and again, the salt on her skin a counterpoint to the sweetness of her broken cries.

He opened his mouth over her jugular and let his teeth graze, either side, and Elreth shuddered and clung to him. 

His control was beginning to shred.

With shaking hands he cupped her face, held her there and met her eyes, let her see into the depths of his soul—and almost came when she stared right back and didn't flinch.

They rolled together once, twice, three times and she was beginning to whimper.

Aaryn sucked in, arching over her, pleading with her to understand the things he couldn't say, could only feel.

And her eyes begged him in return.

"You're mine," he breathed, then took her mouth again, her breath hot and demanding on his cheek,

She shivered and met him roll for roll, her breath coming faster, harder each time. 

"Mine," he whispered against her jaw, then dropped to suck at her throat again so she cried out, her hands slapping at his back as she gave herself so desperately, meeting his intensity. 

"Only mine, El," he croaked. "Only ever mine."

"Yes!" she cried, her voice breaking. "I am, Aaryn. Only yours. Please… let go… let go… I'm here…"

A tremor wracked his body as his control broke and he howled her name, pressing deeper and deeper into her, faster and faster. And she met him stroke for stroke, her words tumbling into ecstatic cries as they slowly climbed the heights together. 

The world disappeared. All that was left was her body, her skin, her voice, her eyes, her mouth open and seeking. The only thing that mattered was where they joined, the frantic, desperate quest to show love, to demonstrate need—to satisfy it. 

Unaware of anything except her, his brain and body fired, again and again, lighting up along every path that led to her—the warm softness of her skin, the rippling pressure of her body, the keening cries that told him everything that was right.

Cupping the back of her neck with one hand and her hip with the other, he pulled her in as he invaded her body—pleading with her to understand, marveling when she did, climbing the wave when she pressed back, gripping him, pulling him closer, always closer, begging for more. 

It wasn't enough. It was never enough. Aaryn felt himself crest the wave and cried out. 

"Elreth!"

She tensed, her eyes wide and shining and she groaned, her breath torn from her as she clenched around him, frozen in his grip.

For one, pure second, as they both rode the heights of pleasure together, there was no sound, no breath, no need except to be there together. Always together.

Then Aaryn gave a guttural moan and Elreth sagged in his grip, her body rocked with the aftershock of her orgasm, and they both slumped, sweaty and panting, to cling to each other.

Aaryn huffed, blinking, unable to even think for a moment until the world rushed back in. 

Elreth was giving tiny peeps, her voice breaking on each breath as she held him to her chest and shivered.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them had to.

They both knew. 

This was the True Mate's bond. This was two souls tied together by the Creator.

This was love as it was meant to be.

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