Rage

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Reverie

I have no idea what's come over me—or him, for that matter—because the way he's kissing me is more like he's making out with the most beautiful woman in the world.

The way he grabs the side of my face, like it's not laced with fur, and strokes my tongue with his like it's not being threatened to be sliced down the middle by my fangs.

When his hands trace stars around my scars, I gasp, and his rough, calloused hands find my breasts, rolling my pebbled nipple between his thumb and finger, creating a shudder that just won't stop.

He tucks a fall of inky locks behind my ear and mouths my neck, biting into my skin like it's not covered in fur, sending electric waves of glowing ghosts down my entire body.

He rips my tattered dress and throws it to the floor, peppering kisses down my body until he reaches my naval.

Even in my regular form, I wasn't a skinny girl—from what I can recall—but he sees no obstacles in my curves, treating my body as a treasure map he's destined to explore like it's his destiny to lay claim to my scars and map the constellations of my pain with his mouth.

As he dips lower to my clit, he looks up at me, the extended sharp features of his severe against my naked body. He looks like someone about to devour a four-course meal after being starved for days.

I taste smoke at the back of my throat as he tongue kisses my pussy, making me clench the cushions of the couch enough to rip into them, sending feathers flying into the air.

The gravelly moan crawling up his throat withers my mind to compost, the sort where bad decisions go to sprout. He adds fingers to his lustful meal, and I arch my back as I climb to the sun.

When he pulls me to the brink of release, he pulls his fingers free, dissolving my climax before it has the chance to curl over.

As he stands before me, the outline of his hard-on in his pants paints my arousal even brighter shades of want. I pull him toward me and rip his pants off, his giant cock springing to life before me. He removes his shirt, exposing his exquisitely defined abs and notches, pointing treasure hunters like myself toward the most delectable treasure.

Like coming upon the most delightful snack, my mouth salivates as I encircle the tip of his dick with my tongue, gazing up at him before sinking down the length.

Coaxing the most delicious sounds from his throat, I grasp him by his firm little ass and pull him into me as deep as I can. He grabs the back of my head and guides me fast, fast, slow, fast, fast, slow.

Every muscle in his body tenses up, and his dick hardens further when he pulls me from it to stop himself from cumming and kisses me, looking at me like I'm the one who shaped the sky.

He yanks me up from the floor and kisses me, then grabs me by the throat and throws me onto the couch.

Pulling my legs wide open, I feel on display until he says, "You’re fucking perfect," as he swirls my clit with his thumb while the other hand guides himself into me.

"Oh fuck," I utter as he swirls his hips in one long roll, seating himself to the hilt within my depths.

I moan loudly, and he swallows the sound in a crumbling kiss, tasting my ruin at his hands like he has a sword notched at my neck.

In and out, he pierces me, peeling back my skin and exposing my ribs and inner workings—the maiden within the beast. The inner woman fights her way to the surface, peeling back the beastly layers and laying herself bare before this sexy man.

My claws rake over his pecs, the swirl of chest hair soft and rugged beneath my fingers. I'm careful not to claw him, but when I do scrape his skin more roughly than I intend, the guttural growl he emits lets me know it's a welcomed pain.

The air is thickening as we trade pieces of each other, and he pulls me with him when he reaches the edge of the universe.

The crescendo of ecstasy implodes me from the inside out, and as he explodes within, he kisses me like I am the last bit of air in a sinking ship.

As he slows his kisses and is about to pull out of me, the room grows unnaturally cold. The air crackles with energy, and the hearth flickers blue before dying out. The manor, alive with its own magick, responds to my anxiety. A heavy, gilded mirror on the far wall appears in the room before us and begins to glow, tapping into something within my memory.

"What the hell?" Steele mutters, removing himself from me and gathering his pants.

I freeze, my claws retracting as fear overtakes me. "No," I whisper. "Not this."

"What is it?” Steel asks me as he steps into his pants.

"My curse."