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Pleasures of the Night(22)

By:Silvia Day


Gratitude and affection closed his throat.

Feeling the shaking of Aidan’s arms, Lyssa stared up into his flushed face and felt tears well. Deep inside her, he pulsed, every beat of his heart echoed in the throbbing of the hard flesh that filled her.

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted, needing him to know that he was important to her.



His jaw tightened, and he nodded. She knew he had missed her, too. Not just because he was here again, but because she felt it radiating from him. His need and longing were tangible.

“Give me the top,” she murmured, gripping his shoulders as he complied.

For a moment she stared, taking the time to absorb the feel of him beneath her and inside her. It was because of him that she couldn’t move forward with Chad. Chad couldn’t make her feel like this. Chad wasn’t the voice that had found her in the darkness, or the strong arms that held her in sleep, or the quiet strength that made her feel safe. Aidan was her anchor.

“You were right,” she said softly, lifting onto her knees, her eyelids growing heavy at the feel of his cock caressing her as it withdrew.

“About what?” His large body shuddered as she lowered again.

“About making love.” Her hands stroked over the tops of his shoulders.

“Lyssa…” He laced his fingers with hers, supporting her as she began to ride him with greater urgency. She whimpered in pleasure.

“That’s it,” he crooned, watching her with intense blue eyes. “Take me any way you want.”

Sweat beaded on his forehead as she began a steady rhythm of lifting and falling, stroking the thick length of his cock with the adoring clasp of her body. He was too big for her, his hips spreading her thighs wide enough that the lips of her cunt kissed the root of his erection with every deep lunge. A moan escaped, and then another, as she struggled to rub the spot inside that ached for him.

“I—I can’t…”

Knowing what she needed, Aidan took over, releasing her hands to hold her hips as he pumped upward in steady drives. It was perfect, the way he moved, the variations in the depths of his thrusts, the circling of his hips. She could barely breathe, barely think, her body helplessly lost to his skill.

Leaning forward on all fours, she let him have his way, let him kill her with feeling and sensation, let him take her where he would. The sound of his luscious voice, husky with lust and purring heated sex words, made her cunt flutter along his cock, then clutch tightly in orgasm.

“Ah god…!” The cry that left her throat was not her own. She didn’t know where it came from; it poured up from the same place as her pleasure, from deep within.

“Sweet Lyssa,” he growled, his mouth to her ear as her arms collapsed, leaving her hips suspended by his strength alone. Now he took what he needed, using her body to satisfy his own, his face buried between her breasts, wallowing in her scent, as he drove upward into her spasming depths with long, deep plunges.

His entire frame convulsed when he came, the words he groaned were in some ancient language she couldn’t understand. Except for her name. She heard it, heard the possessiveness in it, and she held him, rocked him, soothed him as he emptied himself inside her in hot, pulsing streams. Giving her all that he was. All that she wanted to keep.

But would be forced to lose when the night was over.





Aidan held Lyssa’s damp body tightly to his, hearing the rasping of his own labored breathing, feeling her raging heartbeat against his chest.

Around them, the soft summer breeze blew, cooling their burning skin. How long had it been since sex had truly satisfied him? He couldn’t remember. He knew only that it had never left him feeling like this.

“Aidan,” she breathed in her soft, innocent voice, a sound filled with wonder and satiety.

“Hmm?”

She sighed and attempted to move off him. Unwilling to be separated, he turned carefully, keeping his cock buried deep inside her. Side by side they faced each other. He lifted a hand to brush the damp hair from her face, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. One of gratitude and joy.

This morning, death had been almost welcome. Exhausted and disheartened, the flow of shadows from the Gateway endless, he’d wondered why he should keep fighting. What good did it do?

Now it seemed so simple. His battle kept Lyssa safe, kept her alive and well. That was enough reason to go on.

It was then that the rustling sounds of papers in her drawing pad caught his attention. He reached over her, his intent to tuck it beneath the blanket, when a soft gust of wind flipped the page. His heart stopped at what he saw, his chest tightening in the viselike grip of pure fear. Everything faded away, even Lyssa, as he stared at her drawings with horror such as he’d never known.