Page 462 - Fourth Wing

“You feel so fucking good.” He slams back into me, again and again, as

he sets a brutal, steady pace, his mouth sliding down my neck as his hand
rises to cup my breast.

I can’t even think around the maddening pleasure as my back pounds the

armoire door with every thrust, filling the room with the sound of our
straining bodies and creaking wood. Every stroke is better than the last. My

breaths stutter.

“Fuck, I’m never going to get enough of you, am I?” he says, his face
buried in my neck as I arch into him.

“Shut up and fuck me, Riorson.” Tomorrow is soon enough for regrets.

Reaching up, I grasp the top edge of the armoire with one hand so I can
rock back with more force, meeting the drive of his hips, taking him deeper,

harder. He drags one of my nightgown’s straps off my shoulder, and the
cool night air kisses the hardened peak of my nipple a heartbeat before his

hot mouth covers it. The sensations spiral, spinning and coiling, forming a

tight knot of pleasure so deep within me, the tension is sublimely
unbearable.

The armoire door groans, then splinters off the hinges, and Xaden’s
shadows whip out, protecting me as the frame snaps and wood crashes

around us. My power flares, rising in answer to his, sizzling beneath my

skin as I grab ahold of his shoulders, my mouth finding his.
There’s no stopping. We can’t stop.

“Fuck,” he curses as he takes me over and over, never stopping, turning

us again so there’s cloth against my back. But it’s not the bed. It’s the
curtains shoved to the side of the window.

Energy crackles again as our mouths meet, and still he drives on, winding

that knot inside me painfully tighter with every movement.
And the power…it’s too much. It’s burning me, heating my blood with

the need for release. “Xaden,” I cry out, simultaneously writhing yet
holding on to him like he’s the only thing anchoring me to the earth.