He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down her throat, over her collarbone, following the path his hands had blazed. When his lips finally closed over one taut peak, Yueshuang's fingers tangled in his hair, not to pull him away, but to hold him there, anchored to this moment, to this feeling. His tongue laved and teased, and the sensation was so acute, so overwhelmingly intimate, that it felt less like pleasure and more like a piece of her fractured soul clicking back into place.
He worshipped her this way, with his hands and his mouth, until she was pliant and boneless against him, her earlier fears drowned in a rising tide of sensation and a love that felt as ancient as the mountains. There were no more thoughts of cages or chains, only the undeniable rightness of his skin against hers, his breath mingling with her sighs, and the storm outside that paled in comparison to the one they were weathering in each other's arms.
