Chapter 21
Kylie
Rook’s throat flexes with his roar as he thrusts himself inside me. The sound that leaves him is not human. It’s not loud or performative, but low and rough and feels as if it’s pulled from somewhere primal. Somewhere ancient.
I moan and grip the flesh of his shoulders with my fingernails. They indent and bend the skin, cutting through to the next layer, but no blood comes out.
It’s a reality check of what he is—and, surprisingly, a rush like I’ve never experienced. There’s something about bringing something greater than man to his knees and reaping the spoils. And with the way he explained it, this moment means that power is mine to wield forever.
This man isn’t fragile. He’s not breakable. He’s a beast, and it feels like he could crush every bone in my body with his fucking pinkie finger.
That only makes me wetter, and I feel the ease with which his cock slides in and out of me. The sounds of my arousal mix with the guttural sounds of his thrusts.
And his cock. Holy hell. It’s big. It’s hard. And it’s throbbing inside me. I want this man to fuck me like this for the rest of my life. As long as he keeps doing this, I will do anything for him. Anything.
His mouth is set in a firm line, and the cut of his jaw showcases a restraint that must weigh a thousand pounds. He’s holding back. He’s not giving me everything, but goodness, I want everything.
The way my pussy tightens around him, the way my hips shake and my muscles tremble, the way my body reacts to him, isn’t something I have control over. It’s instinctual, as if my body and his body were meant to do this. As if we were made for each other.
“Rook,” I whisper, my body tight and rubbery all at once. Stars dance behind my eyes as he begins to move, and every primal piece of me I didn’t know existed begs for him to sink his teeth into me.
His eyes darken. The brown of his irises deepens—shadows cutting through them like something intense inside him is stepping to the surface.
“You feel it,” he says.
“Yes.”
This is my first time making love to anyone, let alone Rook—and yet, it feels more natural than anything I’ve ever done in my life. It feels like breathing oxygen but also needing the oxygen to stay alive.
It makes it easy to believe him when he says we’re each other’s destiny—every part of me can feel it.
And I just want to keep doing this. I want to stay connected to him like this forever.
But then Rook is sliding out of me, disconnecting us completely, and a half moan, half whine bubbles up from my lungs.
He kneels between my spread thighs, his hard, throbbing cock in his hand and my arousal dripping off it. And he stares at me, his eyes raking over every inch of my face and my breasts and my hips and my body.
But when his eyes fixate on the heat between my legs, his tongue sneaks out, licking across his bottom lip.
“Rook, please,” I beg. “I need more.” I need everything.
He lifts his eyes, meeting mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch and my hips tilt toward him. “What did you just say?”
“I need more.”
He shakes his head. “What did you just think?”
I hesitate, but then I whisper, “I need everything.”
His cock jolts forward at my words, like his body is literally trying to climb back inside me. And I just watch the erotic scene that is him stroking himself and staring at me while panting breaths vibrate my chest.
Can you hear my thoughts? I think.
He nods.
You can hear everything I’m thinking right now?
He nods again.
You can read minds?
“No, not like this.” He shakes his head. “This is different. It’s the bond. It’s…because you’re mine.” He lifts my hips up so they’re resting on his thighs, and he rubs the tip of his cock in circles against my clit.
Fuck, I have to hold back. This kind of intoxicating want is dangerous. I fear I’ll destroy her if I let go. The thoughts slip into my head, but I know they’re not mine. They’re his.
I want her mouth and her tits and her pussy and her perfect fucking ass. I want to fill her up with my come. I want to sink my teeth into her neck and feed off her. I want to claim every inch of her body until no one can touch her without knowing she’s mine.
I lock our gazes, my eyes searching his. “Don’t hold back,” I whisper. “Claim me. Take everything. Take it all.”
Rook stills, and I can hear his mind working overtime to understand what is happening. You can hear me?
I nod.
Our bond is so strong, Kylie. And fuck, I’m starting to fear how much I want you.
Don’t, I respond. Just let go.
He slides the length of his cock between the lips of my sex, not inside me but still pressing against my highly aroused flesh in ways that make more moans escape from my lips.
And I’m mesmerized by the sight. My eyes fixate on the hardness of his cock and the strength that lies in his forearm as he grips himself.
“What do you need, Kylie?”
When I don’t answer, he reaches down, gently puts his fingers under my chin, and lifts my eyes to his. “What do you need?”
I look at him. But I don’t say it out loud. I need your cock inside me, stretching me, filling me. I need you to fill me up with your come. I need fucking everything. I. Need. You.
A growl escapes his lips, and he lifts me to sitting with a gentleness and an ease I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. My legs are sprawled out over his thighs, and his cock is perched right at my entrance.
We’re face-to-face now, his dark and heated gaze locked with mine.
“Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you,” he says, his voice deep and throaty in a way that makes my nipples harden. He leans down and sucks one of my breasts into his mouth while he jolts his hips upward, driving deep inside me in one steady thrust.
And it’s this biting combination of pleasure and pain.
Euphoria and purgatory. But the pain isn’t from this being my first time; it’s from the realization that I don’t know if I can ever get enough of him.
It doesn’t matter that he’s well-endowed and his cock is stretching me to my limits—I don’t think it’ll ever be deep enough.
Simply put, I will never get enough of him. I will spend the rest of forever wanting more. Always wanting more.
There’s a masochistic part of me that wants you to tear me apart. That wants you to take every single thing I can give you. I would bleed myself dry for you.
“Stop,” he growls, lifting his head to meet my eyes.
But when he tries to stop the movement of his cock, I take things into my own hands and start riding him myself. And the more I ride him, the wetter I get, the arousal turning so obscene that I can hear it as I move myself up and down.
“Kylie.” He groans. “Fuck.”
“Don’t hold back,” I whisper. “Please, please, please don’t hold back.”
“You don’t know what that means.” His jaw tightens. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then show me.”
“Kylie.”
I reach up to grab his face between my palms, forcing his gaze to mine. “Don’t. Hold. Back.”
His cock throbs inside me. His grip on my hips grows tighter. And every time my panting breaths make my breasts brush against his chest, I feel his body tense up.
“Don’t hold back,” I repeat. “Claim me, Rook. Taste me. Feed on me.”
“Kylie.”
“Feed. On. Me.”
On a growl, his restraint fractures. He lowers his mouth to my throat, and when I feel the press of his teeth, I don’t tense. I relax. I open up. I fucking bloom.
The bite is sharp, and then heat pours through me like molten lava.
It doesn’t hurt. It ignites. My breath shatters into something desperate and needy, and my body reacts to the feeding as much as to the way he’s moving inside me.
The connection amplifies. Every sensation doubles, and I feel it in my arms and my legs and deep, deep in my core where the connection of the two of us burns.
His groan vibrates against my skin, deeper now, and edged with hunger.
You have no idea what you do to me, Kylie, he thinks.
I just want to be yours, my mind whispers to him. Forever.
And he sucks gently at my neck, feeding off my blood, while he continues to thrust his cock inside me.
My eyes fall closed, and my senses fall over a cliff of rapture.
It’s not like the orgasms I’ve given myself with a vibrator or my hand—it’s beyond any earthly thing I’ve ever experienced.
It is cosmic and celestial and transcendent of this universe and the next.
Rook Slater and I aren’t one person—but we should be.
His groan is low and deep as his tongue lashes over the wound at my neck and forces it closed, and despite the continued pleasure of our connection, I miss it.
I can see how I could get addicted to it—how he could have me begging for it day in and day out. Because I already want him to do it again. And again. And again. Self-preservation is no longer a thing. I’m reckless in my need for him.
“You’re mine,” he says against the new and tender flesh, and I nod vigorously in reply.
“I’m yours,” I agree.
His mouth finds mine and takes me in a kiss so intense, I almost lose track of everything else. Of the room, of the world, of time and space and matter.
“You’re mine,” I whisper when he’s done, testing out the words on my tongue and loving them instantly.
They aren’t just nice—they’re perfect.
“I’m yours,” he agrees. “In this world and the next and everything in between, Kylie Moon. I’ll be yours until time no longer exists.”
I wake to the smell of pot roast.
And the realization hits before I open my eyes, sinking deep into my chest like a weight I didn’t know I’d been carrying. The air is warm and familiar, laced with rosemary and onions and something sweet I can’t quite place.
I sit up too fast, heart slamming against my chest while the quilt covering my body slips down my waist. And instantly, my vision is filled with the sights and memories of the place I called home for most of my life.
Gammy’s house.
My eyes dart around my old childhood bedroom, taking inventory of pink walls and floral curtains and the old oak dresser with the chipped corner I used to stub my toe on as a kid.