House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City #3) by Sarah J. Maas

Hunt met her tongue stroke for stroke, and the weight of his body on hers was joy and comfort and home. Home—he was home. Her ability to teleport to him had only proved that. Home wasn’t a place or a thing, but him. Wherever Hunt was … that was where home was. She’d find him across galaxies, if need be.

He tugged off her long-sleeved shirt, gently, lovingly. Bryce practically ripped his black shirt off his shoulders.

Hunt chuckled, rising up to unbuckle his belt, then unzipping his pants. “So impatient.”

She rubbed her thighs together, desperate for any friction. Especially as his impressive length sprang free, and—

“Commando?” Bryce said, choking.

Hunt smirked. “All the underwear they gave me on the Depth Charger was too small for this.” He palmed himself, pumping, and she groaned at the sight of the small bead of moisture at the tip of his cock. “Now let’s see what underwear you’re wearing, Quinlan,” he said, eyes dark with lust, and tugged down her leggings. She lifted her hips off the bed, coils screeching, and Hunt laughed at the sound.

But his laugh died in his throat as he beheld the cherry-red thong. “This is what they gave you on the Depth Charger?”

“Not the Depth Charger.” She grinned as he peeled off her leggings, exposing the tiny red lace thong. “I grabbed these from Morven’s castle—the guest rooms had whole unopened packs of them.”

Hunt’s booming laugh set her star glowing, and the breath whooshed out of her as he gripped her knees in either hand and spread her legs wide. “If that asshole wasn’t dead, I’d send him a thank-you note.”

Hunt pressed his mouth to the front of her underwear and huffed a hot breath.

“Damn, Quinlan,” he said against her, and she buried a hand in his silken hair. He slipped a finger around the front of her underwear, toying with her entrance. “Gods-damn.”

She clawed at her underwear, beyond words.

Hunt obliged her by removing the thong with cruel, brutal slowness. She growled, but he dangled the underwear on one finger before setting it aside. “I wouldn’t want to damage this precious thing.”

“I’m going to damage you if you don’t get in me right now,” she managed to say, opening her legs wider.

She nearly climaxed at the raw need, the ravenous hunger on Hunt’s face. Especially as he slowly, slowly lifted his gaze to hers, filled with pure lightning.

“Hunt,” she begged, and he lunged for her.

He gripped her hips, lifting her off the mattress, angling her precisely how he wanted as he slid into her in a long, smooth glide.

Bryce moaned at the size of him, filling every part of her, and she dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his ass, pinning him there for a moment. Luxuriating in the stretch of herself around him, the weight of his body against hers.

“How?” he panted against her hair. “How the fuck can it feel this good every time?”

Her fingers clenched harder, urging him to move. He withdrew almost to the tip, and plunged back in, hard enough that another moan slipped out of her.

“You like that?” He angled her hips again, his to play with. “You like my cock this deep in you?”

She couldn’t manage anything more than a nod. He rewarded her with another long stroke that had her seeing stars.

Those were … those were actual stars dancing around them, filling the room.

“Quinlan,” he breathed, eyes wide at the stars floating by. But she needed more friction, more pleasure. She palmed her breast, squeezing, rolling her hard nipple between her fingers.

“Fuck,” he exploded, and thrust into her again, so deep and strong that it pushed them up the bed. Another stroke, and then his lightning was sparking over his shoulders, across his wings, a band of it over his brow like a crown—

She lifted a glowing hand, and his lightning twined over her fingers, zapping her delicately.

He withdrew, and her moan of protest turned into one of pure pleasure as he flipped her onto her front and plunged into her again, the fit of his cock so tight in her that she could barely stand it.

Starlight poured out of her, and his lightning skittered over her spine, ecstasy in its wake.

“Hunt,” she cried, release hovering just over the horizon.

His fingers dug into her hips. “Come for me, Bryce.”

Release crashed into her, out of her, her starlight flaring, and the room was blindingly bright. Hunt pounded into her in sure, steady strokes, and his lightning was between her thighs, his lightning was in her very blood, and all that she was and he was blended into such light, such power—

His hoarse shout was the only warning before he spilled into her, and it sent her climaxing again, knowing how deeply he was seated in her, marking her.

His fingers slid to her clit, stroking her through the throes, amplifying it. She reared up against him, pressing back into his chest as his fingers circled and swirled, and nothing had ever felt so perfect as wave after wave of pleasure washed over and out of her.

And then the world stilled, the light fading, and they were kneeling on the bed, Bryce leaning fully back against Hunt, one of his hands resting between her legs, the other looped around her middle. He pressed kiss after kiss to the space between her neck and shoulder. “Bryce,” he murmured against her skin, his chest heaving into her spine. “Bryce.”