Chapter Twenty-Two

Aamon

In the quiet of my dimly lit chambers, after the chaos and terror finally subsided, I hold Thorne close. My heart is still pounding with residual fear of nearly losing him. In this moment, all that matters is the warmth of his body against mine.

My fingers tremble slightly as they trace the contours of his face, memorizing every detail as a reassurance that he is truly safe. I rarely allow myself to feel so openly, showing so much vulnerability, but for once it feels unavoidable.

"I thought I lost you," I whisper, voice thick with the weight of everything I have felt since he was taken. "When I realized you were gone, my rage consumed me entirely. I thought of nothing but destroying everything in my wake to get to you."

My hand slips behind his neck, pulling him closer, needing him.

Thorne's breath hitches, and his eyes search mine with gratitude and a softness that leaves my heart trembling. "Aamon…" His words are lost as I press my lips against his in a desperate, tender kiss.

This kiss holds everything I have never said and wished I had. All the moments I hid behind my crippling fear. My love and relief pours out of me as tears wet my eyelids.

Immediately, he grabs hold of me so tightly, his blunt ugly nails dig into my flesh, but the pain grounds me in the moment, savoring his adoration fully. His tongue darts into my mouth, and I open for him eagerly, toying at his tongue until I pull away.

As our mouths part, our foreheads rest upon each other, and my voice trembles as I consider the words I ache to say. "I love you, Thorne. More than anyone I have ever known. I swear I will never let anything or anyone take you from me again."

I see the tears in his eyes, and my heart swells. "I love you too." His voice is steady and full of conviction.

I break.

Tears continue to leak from my eyes, and I smile a rare and gentle expression I had thought forever lost.

For the first time ever in my bed, we don't allow ourselves to sate our lust; instead, we hold one another, gently kissing until Thorne straddles me. "I want to fuck you gently for the last time until we see one another again."

How can I say no to him?

Thorne begins to kiss down my chest until my cock aches. The moment it extrudes from my pouch, he takes it in his tiny hands. This is the first time he has pleasured me of his own accord, and yet he does so adeptly without need for instruction. Each stroke of his hand stokes the fire. Once I am panting, I feel him seat himself upon me.

My eyes flare open as I watch my soon-to-be-betrothed writhe upon my cock. His movements are slow, tantalizingly so. His hips move in such a way, I swear he must have been a dancer. I grind into him, matching his speed and depth as if the two of us are dancing a slow waltz.

Strangely, this deliberate speed amps up every burning emotion I feel for Thorne, creating a suffocatingly intense desire to come. It is as if I can't last a moment longer. The love I feel for him and the way his tight little ass hugs me tightly are enough to drive any sane man to derangement.

"Thorne…baby, please." The endearment flies from my lips, and I half expect him to gaze at me with disgust. I am satisfied when his eyes grow softer and his hands plant themselves upon my chest.

Thorne's speed increases then, and he grinds and writhes upon my cock with such tenacity that I hardly keep up. His cock throbs, leaking precum in thick rivulets down my chest. Grabbing it in my hands, I begin to stroke it in tandem with his undulation until his breathing becomes nothing more than pants.

"Aamon, please let me come."

The plea ignites our orgasms as we, in unison, scream out in ecstasy as release overtakes us in bliss.

"I love you," I say, though it sounds breathless and weak. Thorne makes me weak for him and only him, and I will make him stronger. Together, we will let nothing tear us asunder.

"I love you too, Aamon." He plants soft kisses on my throat until he reaches my cheek. "I will always love you."