Crown of Ellova, Vol. 1 (Crown of Ellova Duology)

Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

I beg the crown over and over again, but the magic ignores my anguished cries. The magic is so far out of my pathetic control, attacking the man who has my whole heart in his gentle hands. The relentless water keeps Leon in tortured suspension in the air, entombed in the spinning waves.

Please, stop! Please please please, let him go!

STOP, STOP, STOP!

PLEASE!

I take gasping breaths to calm myself, and the magic listens; the water finally drops him.

“I’m all right,” he rasps as I reach him.

There are black spots in my vision from the dizzying pain the crown is causing, but I throw my arms around him, the lockkiss keeping us afloat. “I’m so, so sorry. It was the crown. I don’t know what happened. All of a sudden, the magic just started to attack. I couldn’t stop it.”

My head is on his rapidly heaving chest. His pounding heartbeats stabs at me with each ragged breath he takes, knowing this was my fault.

Weak arms wrap around me, and wet lips brush my forehead. “It wasn’t your fault?— ”

I cut him off. “Of course it was! I?—”

“Shhhhh, stop, stop. You don’t have control right now. The magic was just protecting you. I can’t say I enjoyed being on the receiving end of the crown’s wrath, but I am glad it’s keeping you safe.” His grip tightens, not painfully, just enough to emphasize his point.

I pull back my arms on each side of his waist, fingers digging into him. “Leon, stop being so understanding! I almost killed you.”

“It’s a good thing we took the lochkiss before .” He pushes some of my sodden hair behind my ears. I hope he doesn’t notice the evidence of my tears with the dripping spring water, but he does. Of course he does.

He cups my face, his thumbs wiping my cheeks. “Oh, Strawberries.” He looks at me with such kindness and warmth, understanding staring back at me. “It’s all going to be all right. I promise.” His words are gentle, kind.

He’s always so fucking kind.

Anger blinds my tear-filled eyes. “Do not patronize me. I do not want your pretty lies, Leon,” I cry. “You keep saying that! Just accept it’s not true. Accept, like I have, that everything will not be all right. Every possible situation has us dead or alone!”

His expression does not shift. He’s weathering my misplaced fury flawlessly.

The terror and joy, lust and longing, that all has been building in me takes over and I move without thought, without doubt, blinded by need, towards him. He eagerly meets me halfway.

Our lips brush and I almost collapse from the explosion of relief and lust within me.

The feeling of his body tight against me, his lips on mine, exploring, tasting. Gentle and sweet. Slow. Like we have all the time in the world and my magic didn’t just try to assassinate him.

Like the overflowing passion and pining between us isn’t trapped by an hourglass, the cascading sand of our time together quickly escaping.

Thanks to the lochkiss, Leon lies flat on the surface of the spring, pulling me closer, draping my body over his as I deepen the kiss. I open my mouth in a greedy invitation and his tongue rushes in to meet mine. His kiss is no longer careful and unhurried, but demanding, feverish, claiming my mouth with his over and over again.

I straddle him and we slowly sink to the bottom of the spring.

Fish swim out of our way as we descend and his back meets the soft sand of the pool’s bottom. My hair floats up, fluttering in the current. His kiss becomes slow and reverent until he breaks free from me, pulling back. We stare at each other before he moves in again and kisses me, hard.

Delicate touches transform into urgent pleas, gentleness vanishing from his kiss.

He kisses like the only thing he wants is to consume me, forging our bodies and souls together. My hands cup his rough jaw while he pulls me closer.

I love kissing him. It’s everything I’d hoped it would be, sweeter because it’s real and not just fantasies from a cold, lonely bed. His touch is demanding, as if he never wants space between us again. Fiery joy pours into me, burning away the hurt that has lain here for a hundred years.

I want more, need more. Kissing is not enough.

I want him thrusting roughly inside me.

I want those soft lips on my skin.

I want to tear off his clothes and taste him.

Leon tangles his hand in my hair at the base of my neck, his arousal evident between my thighs as I grind against him. His fingers tighten and he gently but firmly pulls me back, making me moan. He breaks our kiss with a loud gasp, his eyes widening at my pleased expression.

“Such a little tease,” he says, little bubbles escaping with his words, and pulls me down to continue, his hands leaving my hair to trail down my body, his mouth moving to my neck. I let out a blissful groan, melting against him.

He releases my throat with a pop. The spot he has abandoned pulsates; he has left a claiming mark on me. I hide my smile in the curve of his neck, delighted at how possessive he is .

The spring’s sunbeams dance over his skin. I want him so badly my center throbs, but continuing will only make everything worse. I was supposed to be keeping my distance. I needed to care less about him, not more, but he’s too intoxicating.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper into the water. “Please, don’t stop.”

His mouth captures mine again and he rolls us, my back pressed to the soft, glittering sand as he settles over me. The aquatic plants around us tickle my skin. One of his hands slides up under the cloth at my chest, cupping my breast, and he moans into my mouth at the contact. His fingers grasp at my nipple.

“I need this off.” He groans his request as he pulls at the bow holding it together. The yellow fabric falls away, releasing my breasts, and floats lazily towards the surface. The spring’s gentle current glides over my nipples. Leon wastes no time leaning down and taking one tip into his mouth, kneading the other with his hands, teasing me. I’m gasping; he is achingly eager. Every touch and taste is exquisite.

I claw at the fabric around his hips, reach into it, and caress his thick cock, pumping. He groans, releasing my nipple and resting his forehead between my breasts.

“Izadella, I—” His words are cut off in a strangle as I increase the speed of my stroke. I tease the head of his cock with a brush over his tip, and then slide my hand around him, noting how his body reacts to my touch. I need to make him feel good.

Leon’s lips recapture mine and he hooks my bottoms to the side, sliding two fingers into my burning core. “Fuck, Izadella, so tight for me.” I spread my thighs wider as his thumb grazes my clit, ecstasy taking over. We moan into each other’s mouths.

His touch is greedy, the perfection of it driving me closer and closer to release, plunging into me in a knee-shaking rhythm.

Leon’s slick fingers leave my core and swirl on my clit, his other hand still tugging in my hair as our tongues tangle together.

I grind myself on his touch, desperate for my own release and for his too. The sensation of his cock in my hands, his hips thrusting against my palm, drives me wild until I’m feverish with desire for him. I squeeze gently as he moves against me, his hand inside me matching the rhythm of my pumps. He breaks the kiss for a moment, his mouth returning to my breasts, sucking and teasing each one. He groans his own pleasure into my skin when it becomes too much for him.

His fingers plunge back into me and thrust over and over again as his thumb glides on my clit. His touch is intoxicating and I’m melting in my simmering pleasure, almost ready to burst with his searing fingers.

Leon’s frantic touch overpowers me, the pleasure peaking, and I scream. My thighs splay open further as he keeps up a breathtaking tempo with his trembling fingers. He groans before his lips find mine again, and we kiss through our joined pulsing euphoria. He pulls away briefly to bury his face into my throat, lavishing the sensitive spot there with attention as his fingers glide back into me, and he lazily pumps into me again, prolonging my waves of bliss, that teasing thumb of his circling my overstimulated center.

I am weightless, truly weightless, and the lochkiss floats us up to the sparkling surface. We are still holding each other as we gasp in the fresh air, lying at the top of the spring as if we weigh nothing, sunshine warming our skin.

His fingers slide out again and he brings his glistening fingers to his lips, licking and sucking my release off. When he is done, he turns to me for a deep kiss.

We float there, spent and sated.

“We should head back,” I whisper into his chest.

He swallows hard. “Gonna need a minute.” His breaths are rapid, his voice cracking just a little.

“Sorry,” I whisper, and I mean it. I should have had more self-control, kept my hands and mouth to myself. The water drips off him and I follow the rivulets down his body, wishing I could follow its path with my tongue.

He whispers back, “Don’t be. You are a treasure, Izadella. My treasure.”

We lie there together, bobbing atop the pool’s surface, his hands tracing lazy circles on my back and thighs, for a long time before he kisses my cheek and we swim back to shore. He grabs the fabric I used to cover my breast and gently ties it around me before pulling me in for one last long kiss. Together, we mount our steed and head back.