I Fell for Myself by Stella Mira

Any Last Words?

A half-grin touched her lips – her tongue licked his aftertaste, the remnants of wet warmth, and she rose, stared at him. Peals of hunger thrummed in her blood, coursed through every vein and artery, as her eyes roved over the ravished body beneath her, slick with perspiration, glowing with satiation. Lust-filled, dark-hued blue traveled down her body, stared at her with another kind of heat now, sultry and thick and demanding. Sesshōmaru urged her to finish this. Lips peeled back, she felt a twinge of pain, of unrestrained need. Kagome couldn't wait any longer. This tightening sensation had become almost unbearable, clamored for fulfillment. Moving back, she submerged herself into the water, dragged him with her, thighs coiling around her, ankles digging into her sides. The water rippled and flowed around her, reaching up to mid-thigh, washed away the sweat with its coolness, but did nothing to alleviate this burn, the fires that laved her skin.

"End of the line. Any last words?" Kagome couldn't tell what prompted her to ask, but she felt the intrinsic impulse to do so. If the ritual was successful, this ordeal would end, but she couldn't bring herself to think of the consequences at the moment. There was only heat, raw sensation, self-willed.

"Do not mark me."

Languish, husky warning, his voice waxed her hunger, reminded her of the one consequence that must be avoided at all costs – and she laughed.

"Oh trust me, that's the last thought on my mind right now."

Kagome moved against him, slid between hot, wet flesh, stroked that bundle of nerves, the source of pleasure, reveled in his shivers, then sought the clutch of his body, sank into him, inch by inch, slow, torrid penetration. Her hands clasped his hips. She stilled, muscles flexing, almost shaking at the restriction, the binding of flesh – so soft and tight and warm. Then she was falling. Fire in the veins, a change of skin. It coursed through bone marrow, sinewy tissue and muscle, tendons and joints, devastated all in its path. A mass of spasms and sweat. Heathen desire and decalescent lust. She moaned, begged for something to end, something to begin. Power surged and swelled and pulsed inside every organ – her tongue, her heart, her cock – unsatisfied, unreleased. She took the magic within her – and died.

When Kagome came alive, nothing had ended, nothing had begun. That power was gone, but something else still flowed, still conquered all that she was. It craved to be sunk deeper, to be absorbed, into the pith of her cells. Nerves thrummed, drums of sensations, of taking and being taken. There was another body, another skin against hers. She raised her lids, painstakingly slow, breathed in the scent of male and sweat, saw sleek, taut muscles, felt the stretch of desire, the pulse of his flesh, still inside of her.

"Sesshōmaru –"