Elara's pov
His pace quickened, losing some of its careful control as his own need began to overtake him. The bed frame creaked in protest, a rhythmic thudding against the stone wall that matched the erratic pounding of my heart.
The friction was exquisite, a tight, wet heat that dragged moans from my throat with every breath. I could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his jaw clenched as he fought for restraint, and I knew he was close.
His hand moved from my hip to cradle my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, forcing me to hold his gaze. The intimacy of it was more devastating than the pleasure. I was bared to him, not just in body, but in soul, every secret I had kept revealed in the desperate arch of my back and the wetness gathering between my thighs. "Mine" he growled, the words a demand against my lips. "Let me feel you."
