53. Seraphina
53
SERAPHINA
T he weight of the cavern, the flickering of dying magic, the whispers of something ancient still lingering in the air—all of it fades into nothing.
Only this remains.
Only him.
Rylan’s hands are rough, gripping, pulling, claiming , as though he’s afraid I’ll vanish between his fingers. As if I’ll slip away like smoke if he doesn’t hold tight enough.
His breath is ragged, his body shaking against mine. This isn’t just hunger. It’s desperation. It’s relief and ruin wrapped into one.
"You almost—" His voice is hoarse, breaking against my lips. "I thought you were gone."
I drag him closer, tearing at the fabric between us, needing to feel him, to remind him that I am here, that I am not a ghost.
His hands slip beneath my tunic, hot, rough, desperate, dragging against my skin as if he’s memorizing every inch.
As if he needs proof.
My back meets the cold stone, but I barely feel it. Not with his mouth, his teeth, his tongue burning a path down my throat. I gasp as he bites, not gentle, not soft—he wants me to feel it.
To feel him.
"Rylan—"
He growls, shoving my tunic higher, baring me to the cold air, but it doesn’t matter. I feel heat everywhere.
His fingers skim over my ribs, spreading fire in their wake. He dips lower, lower?—
I arch beneath him, my breath stuttering, a broken, desperate sound escaping my lips.
His mouth follows the same path as his hands, worshiping and ruining in equal measure.
I claw at his back, at the scars and muscle and strength beneath my hands, pulling him down, needing more, more, more.
He curses, his breath a shuddered wreck against my skin.
"It's done," he rasps, dragging his teeth over my collarbone, his hands gripping my waist like he’s afraid to let go.
I smile, dark and wicked, threading my fingers into his hair, pulling his head back so his gaze meets mine.
"Let's make the most out of it, Rylan."
Something snaps.
Whatever control he had shatters.
Rylan yanks me forward, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that’s all teeth and desperation. His hands tear at the last barriers between us, ripping away fabric until there’s nothing left but skin against skin, heat against heat.
His body presses me deeper into the stone, into him, until there’s no space left, no air, no thought—only him.
I feel the hard, insistent press of his cock against my thigh, and gods, I want him. I burn for him.
His mouth crashes against mine again, but this time it’s slower, darker, as if he’s savoring the moment before it consumes us both. His tongue slides against mine, and I shudder, dragging my nails down his spine, raking, marking, letting him feel what he does to me.
His breath hitches, and I smirk against his lips, my hips rolling against him, feeling him shudder in response.
His hands grip my hips, spinning me around and pressing me hard against the surface. His body cages me in, his chest hot against my back, his cock pressing insistently between my thighs.
It’s hard, huge and hot. And he’s humping me, and I grind into him.
“Yes!” I gasp, every part of me screaming for him.
His mouth finds my neck, my shoulder, biting and sucking until I’m breathless, my fingers clawing at the rock for something to hold onto.
His hands drag down my back, gripping my thighs, spreading me open for him. He leans in, his breath hot and unsteady against my ear.
“I’m not going to be gentle,” he growls, his voice rough, feral.
I laugh, breathless and wrecked, my body already trembling with anticipation. “Good.”
He thrusts into my pussy, hard and deep, and the world fractures.
I cry out, my fingers digging into the stone, the feeling of him stretching me, filling me, consuming me whole. There’s no space between us anymore—only this, only him.
My eyes roll back as ecstasy threatens to take me under. “Oh! Gods!”
His hands tighten on my hips, pulling me back against him, forcing me to feel every inch, every pulse, every raw, aching moment.
“Little thief,” he growls, driving deeper, harder, rougher, his rhythm relentless, unforgiving.
My breath is a wrecked mess, gasps and moans spilling between us, lost to the night air. “Yes,” I whisper, shaking, breaking beneath him.
His grip tightens, his pace brutal, unrelenting, each thrust sending fire curling through my veins. I don’t just feel him—I feel everything.
The raw, aching stretch of his cock inside me, the heat of his skin against mine, the desperate grip of his hands, the way his body claims and consumes me as if he can merge us together, make us one.
My body tightens, coiling, trembling, a pulse of pleasure building too fast, too sharp. I reach for him, my fingers curling over his wrist, his arm, anything to hold onto as I fall apart beneath him.
“Rylan—” My voice shatters, a scream of pure ecstasy slipping past my lips.
“Come for me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my jaw, his thrusts relentless, driving me closer and closer to the edge.
I break.
Pleasure rips through me, blinding, all-consuming, endless. My body arches, tightening, clenching around him as I cry out.
“Seraphina!” He groans, his rhythm staggering, his body shuddering as he follows me to the top.
His breath is ragged, his arms locking around me, holding me close as he buries himself deep, releasing everything into me, into us, into this moment that neither of us can take back.
The world settles.
The only sound left is our uneven breaths, the crash of our hearts, the lingering heat between us.
He doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
His forehead rests against the back of my shoulder, his hands still gripping my hips, his breath ghosting over my skin. I feel his heartbeat, still too fast, still echoing mine, as if we are still one.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers relaxing, the tension in my body slowly unwinding.
But Rylan?
He doesn’t relax.
Not fully.
His grip on my hips softens, but his hands don’t leave me. His lips press against the curve of my neck, my shoulder, soft now, lingering.
“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs, barely a whisper, his voice raw, broken.
I close my eyes, my heart twisting.
I turn in his arms, my fingers brushing his cheek, my forehead pressing against his.
“You didn’t,” I whisper.
But even as I say it, something cold and unknown lingers in my veins.
Do I mean? I don’t even know if I came back as me.
But right now?
I don’t care.
I kiss him again, slow this time, deep.
I let him own me for just a little longer.