Chapter 34 Helena #2
“Decadent creature,” he said. “You taste as good as your soul. So, I think… I will just have all of you.”
A small whimper escaped me when he moved again, a blur of shadow and smoke until he materialized beneath and behind me, capturing me in those muscled arms, my spine pressed to his chest, his long, jean-clad legs on either side of my open bare ones.
I tried to shift toward him, my knees coming together, but a hand seized me by the throat, holding me steady against him, rings digging softly into the delicate skin of my neck now.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, the fingers of his other ring-lined hand slow-creeping between my knees like a spider.
I didn’t try to answer. I just brought my hands up to clasp the muscled, tattooed forearm of the hand that clutched me to him.
“I want you like this first,” he rasped, burying his face in my neck, lips brushing skin, breath teasing me as he spoke. “You’re wet, but I’m gonna need more.”
If he kept talking to me this way, I might just come from that.
All my fantasies about him. I hadn’t let myself fully indulge in them. Because I’d been trying not to want something I couldn’t have. Someone who didn’t like me back. Couldn’t. Now he was hand-feeding my daydreams to me. More even than what I knew I’d wanted.
I trembled in his grip, trying not to fall apart just from words.
“Legs. Open,” he grumbled.
Caught, helpless to make any other move, I parted my knees as he’d ordered, but only slightly, suddenly timid again. Or maybe I wanted to test him? Tease him back.
For fun.
What was one more death wish?
“Are you really still afraid of me?” he asked, flipping his hand over, rings and knuckles gliding down my inner thigh, the promise of their picking up where they left off coaxing my knees open farther.
“Yes,” I murmured, which was true. But we both knew I also liked being a little—a lot?—afraid of him.
“Good answer,” he murmured into me, “you should be.”
Pinning me against him, tightening his grip on me, he flipped his hand again, fingertips trailing down, falling fast. I opened my legs for him a little more but then gasped when those fingers lost their warmth and softness along the way, turning to bone before he drove first and second into me.
I gasped—then moaned, legs collapsing open for him, fingernails of one hand digging into his arm while the other went to clasp him behind the neck.
His muscles tight, grip restricting, he disallowed me to watch while he laughed, that dark, soul-shaking voice taking over as he pumped those cold, hard digits into me before bringing them up to circle my clit.
I fell apart with a shriek as the orgasm that had been begging to rip through me came barreling down, merciless as him as it wrecked—wracked—my system.
With this dastardly ambush, there could have been no stopping it.
A low wail fell out of me while I quivered in his clutches, helpless but to submit to the pleasure as he ushered me through it, bone fingers prolonging the rippling aftershocks.
“Oh, it is incredibly fucking dangerous,” he said, murmuring the words into my neck, “for me to know you were telling the truth about that.” He meant what I’d said at dinner. About still asking him on a date if I knew what he looked like under that hood.
Did he think I would lie about wanting him in his darker form?
Maybe he just hadn’t thought I’d meant it that way.
No secret now that I had.
Ooohhhhh well.
“Helena, Helena,” he chuckled. “You’re fucked now.”
“Oh,” I uttered, an involuntary sound as, while he continued to hold me in place with his human hand, his skeleton hand—and arm—traveled up my torso, fingertips clicking against one another before they snuck under my bra, bony palm sweeping up to engulf and grip the whole of my breast.
I squirmed, pressing myself into him, the impression of his erection pronounced against my lower back, his touch making me long for him to make good on his threat. His latest one.
“You perfect luscious thing,” he groaned, his two voices mixing as if his control over them, over himself, had once again reached a critical point. His hard thumb brushed over my pebbled nipple, then wickedly back again, increasing my building want. “How shall I ravage you next?”
Again, he half unfurled, half shifted out from under me, his smoky essence catching me, guiding me back to the mattress.
Remaining corporeal amid the roughly human-shaped collection of smoke and shadows, his skeleton hand stole away my bra.
Then, rematerializing on his knees in front of me in full human form, Grim tossed that last scrap of clothing away, as naked now as me.
Something that had me staring wide-eyed at his daunting size.
“Um,” I said.
Instinct—and maybe worry—had me sitting up. Or attempting to.
Placing his hand to my sternum, Grim shoved me flat onto my back again, leaving me no time to ask the question I already craved answering the hard way.
The question of whether he really was going to fit…
“Don’t worry,” he said, my misgivings obvious in my actions.
“We’ll take it slow,” he assured me in his human voice, breath playing on my lips as he guided himself to my opening.
“Until you beg me for more,” vowed that darker voice as he kissed me, open and hungry, tongue seeking mine ahead of his lips, those last two ominous words emanating from his being rather than being formed by his otherwise-occupied mouth.
With another whimper, that buzzing voice sending my eyes rolling back again, I clutched him by the back of the neck, holding on to whatever I had left of my dear life as he pressed into me.
I hitched in pleasure—and in fear—as I took the first inch, eyes wide, lids fluttering. And even that much brought with it a delightful burn of pain-tinted pleasure.
“Fuck,” he gasp-muttered, wincing, his voices twisting into one another again, arms trembling as they held him above me, the one on my right shifting to bones before, just as swiftly, morphing back again.
I took his face in my hands, relishing this deterioration of his command over himself, the little he’d been operating under until now.
I loved him in control. Telling me what to do.
Warning me about what I was in for before following through on whatever he wanted to do to me.
At the same time, the thought that I had him struggling this way, fighting his appetite, battling the buried parts of himself that must have lain dormant for so long, had me teetering again on the edge of ecstasy.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growled between his teeth as we fast ran out of room. “I think this is going to kill me. But fuck, I’ve never been more ready to die.”
He said this, but he wasn’t really daunted.
“Please,” I said, even if I wasn’t sure what—exactly—I was begging for.
More. Everything. For this never to end.
“Breathe,” he commanded. I did. He gave me a moment—just one—then, impossibly, between exhales, he continued his intrusion, making room.
“God,” I managed when he just kept coming, stretching me, filling me.
I opened my legs wider for him, as wide as I could, determined to take all of him, the sharp burn consuming me in the best way possible. But just when I thought I could handle the rest, that’s when he paused.
He drew back an inch. Panicked, I caught him around the shoulders before he could escape any farther.
“Grim… please.”
“Please what?” The smallest smile ghosted across his face before he kissed me, like his name on my lips was something he wanted to catch the taste of.
“Please don’t stop,” I pleaded.
“Is it too much?” he asked, words cool as he traced my bottom lip with a once-more-skeletal thumb, his hair falling soft around us, tickling my cheeks.
I moved under him—tried to—wanting to win back the lost ground, but his skeleton hand grabbed me behind one knee, his grip tight as he held me still.
Those lips shifted to the shell of my ear. “Answer me.”
“I love it,” I whispered.
He froze. Then he took in a shuddering breath as though I’d just seriously shaken his ability to hold himself at bay.
“That is not what I asked,” he admonished, speaking slow. “I want to know if it’s too much.”
“Yes,” I said honestly, my own voice tight with truth—and hope. “But I don’t want you to stop.”
An eternity seemed to pass before he replied, though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.
“Good girl,” he said, the words falling out of him like he already knew the answer anyway. Knew and agreed. “Because I’m not planning to stop until you’re so wrecked you barely remember your own name.”
He slammed into me, hips snapping against mine.
My mouth fell open again, wide in a silent scream the moment he bottomed out. My grip on him tightened—that of my hands and my body. My mind left me before I knew I’d even had it to begin with, and I came. Hard.
The waves of this orgasm rolled through me, tinged almost with an ache, the shock of its suddenness robbing me of awareness.
“Oh, fuck, Helena,” he groaned. “Again already? Starting to wonder if there’s going to be anything left of you.”
God, I hope not.
“Mmm,” he murmur-growled into me, nuzzling my neck while giving me another moment, perhaps, to adjust. “You’re in a world of trouble, aren’t you?”
Understatement. Had been for the both of us since the second that cold hand had caught me on that balcony. “Grim,” I said again, pleading.
“Oh, I will,” he promised with the next stroke, this one dragging and drawn out.
That bit of assurance, he’d uttered it like he understood my plight because it happened to be his, too. Like he was currently pacing himself in the act of killing us both but wanted to extend the sweet torture for as long as possible before annihilation.
I didn’t want to think about how that wasn’t so terribly far from the truth…