Iron Flame (The Empyrean #2) Read Online Rebecca Yarros

Categories Genre: Dragons, Fantasy/Sci-fi, New Adult, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: The Empyrean Series by Rebecca Yarros
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Total pages in book: 295
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
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Searing pleasure rips through me, arching my back, and there’s no time to muffle the cry he wrings from me, but he doesn’t exactly stifle his deep moan, either.

“I can’t.” My heart has to give out at some point.

“You can and you will.” He strums his thumb lightly over my swollen clit, and my hips jerk.

The pleasure is sharper than a knife.

Shimmering onyx wraps around my mind and everything intensifies. A driving, pounding, uncontrollable need courses through me with every beat of my pulse, demanding an outlet, demanding I rip through the confines of the leather and trade her sweet taste for the incomparable perfection of sinking into her when she comes.

Xaden. I gasp for breath, gripping the conduit so tightly I prepare for the sound of breaking glass. It’s his desire flooding our bond, compounding my own. His desperation. His power brushing against mine.

I need to fuck her, to flip her over the arm of this throne and drive into her, but I can’t. I need her nail marks in the wood, need her cries filling this whole fucking house, need her knowing what I can be for her—anything and everything she needs. She’s heaven in my mouth. Flawless. Mine. And she’s almost there. Gods, yes, her legs are shaking, her walls are fluttering around my tongue. I love her so fucking much.

I shatter, splintering into a million glittering shards of bliss as I scream out his name. Power and light course through me without burning, and I arch again and again, coming apart at the seams of what I think is me but might be him.

He untangles from my mind, and I mourn the loss even as my body slackens. It’s my lungs I feel draw air, my own power that crackles through the orb in my hand before settling, my own heartbeat that finally slows as the last of the orgasm fades.

“What the hell did you do?” I lift my head, my eyes flaring when I realize Xaden isn’t tangled with me.

He’s three feet and a million miles away, backed against the Assembly’s table, gripping the shadow-covered edges with white knuckles, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly I wince.

“Xaden?”

“Just need a second.”

I manage the awkward task of sitting up and move to stand.

“Stay right there.” He holds his hand out.

Every line of his gorgeous body is drawn tight, and his leathers… Gods, that has to be painful.

“Come here,” I whisper.

“No.”

My head draws back. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to let you get me off twice, let alone whatever the fuck that last time was, and not—”

“That’s exactly what’s happening.” His eyes flash open, and the heat, the longing, the desperation I see there feels like it could be my own…because a few seconds ago, it was.

“I felt how much you need me.” I shift forward to the edge of the chair— throne—whatever. “You want me over the side of the throne, right? Grasping onto the arm so my nails scar it.”

“Fuck.” The table groans under his grip. “I should not have done that.”

“Oh, you definitely should have. It was quite possibly the hottest moment of my entire life. You ever want to bring me to my knees or win an argument? That’s a sure bet.”

A tight smile curves his mouth at the reference to his words from last year.

My toes touch the dais. “You gave me what I fantasize about—”

“Please don’t.” The words are forced through gritted teeth. It’s the “please” that stops me in my tracks. “I’m hanging by a thread, so I’m begging you. Please. Don’t.” He hangs his head, and shadows slip across the dais, pushing my clothes toward me.

Confused is an understatement, but I stand up and quickly get my clothes back on down to my socks, then pick up my boots. “Do you want to clue me in on why you’re keen on torturing yourself?”

He exhales just a shade short of a sigh. “Because I need you to see I’m more than capable of worshipping your body without reciprocation. You’re not a convenient placeholder for me to fuck.”

This is about Cat?

“I know that.” So much for the afterglow of the world’s longest orgasm. I’m right back to pissed.

“But you don’t.” He releases his death grip on the table and points at the throne. “Sit.”

“For a repeat performance?”

A corner of his mouth quirks upward. “So I can help you with your boots. You’re too short for the chair.”

“Well aware,” I mutter, sitting back on the throne and letting my feet dangle. “I don’t like…not reciprocating.”

He lifts my left foot, slipping on my boot.

“I don’t like you thinking you’re not the center of my fucking world, yet here we are. And before you start another argument, I’ll fuck you later tonight. Trust me. I’m making a momentary point, not a lasting vow of masochism.” He braces my foot on his thigh and ties the laces.


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