Chapter 19 Sinful
nineteen
Sinful
Miralyte
He'd kissed me and, once again, I was left breathless and wanting.
There was a ferocity to it, something I hadn't expected. I'd expected him to withdraw, to put an end to this before it spiraled out of control. But he didn't. He seemed just as hungry as I was.
This was insanity. Pure, reckless madness.
I didn't even know what I was doing anymore.
I'd come here because I'd wanted to scream at him, to rage at him for what had happened.
I'd come because I'd wanted to remind him of what he was, of who he had chosen to become, so that he might realize his terrible mistake.
But I hadn't. Instead, I'd kissed him. And now, I didn't want to stop.
"What are you doing to me, Miralyte?" he breathed. His voice was low and rough, and there was a desperate edge to it, as if he was barely holding back. As if a dam had broken, and all the lust and hunger he'd been repressing was rushing out.
What he was doing to me was maddening. Every part of me ached with a need I couldn't quite define.
A need for him, and him alone. A need that thrummed through my veins and lit a fire in my soul.
It was like I was lost in the midst of a storm, the wind and rain whipping through me, and the only anchor I had was him.
He suddenly stepped away from me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to end it. But then he smiled, his eyes dark and hungry.
"Get on your knees, Miralyte," he commanded.
His voice had taken on a dark, seductive edge, and the effect it had on me was undeniable.
I didn't question him or fight him, I simply obeyed. My mouth was dry, my hands trembling with anticipation as I knelt before him.
He stood before me, the dark power swirling around him like a storm. His fingers gently pushed back my sopping wet hair from my face, tracing along my lips.
He grinned wickedly. "Mother above, you look so beautiful on your knees."
My tongue darted out to lick his finger tips, circling the tip. I saw his cock harden, his eyes becoming heavy lidded and he groaned. "Open."
My hands tightened at the rough, commanding tone. Without a word, I obeyed, parting my lips. His thumb slipped between them, and I wrapped my tongue around him, sucking gently.
He groaned softly, his eyes fixed on my mouth. He slowly pushed deeper inside, the rough pad of his thumb stroking my tongue. The sensation was maddening. Just when I thought he would pull away, he slid further in, until I could feel him in the back of my throat.
I tightened my lips around him, sucking hard, my tongue swirling around his thumb. He let out another low groan, his free hand reaching down to grasp my breast.
"Good girl." He pulled his thumb free with a wet pop, leaving me breathless and wanting. He crouched in front of me, his dark eyes roving over my face. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To be my good girl."
Yes. Mother above, yes, I would. I would love it. I would do anything he asked, as long as he looked at me the way he did right now. As if I was the center of his world. As if I was something precious and treasured.
He took my chin in his hand, tilting my head back. "Tell me."
I met his gaze, the dark desire in his eyes sending a shiver down my spine. "Yes."
"Yes, what?" His voice was low and rough, like thunder rolling through the mountains.
I swallowed. "I want to be your good girl."
His thumb stroked my cheek. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He took a deep breath. "Do you trust me?"
I paused, something twisting in my chest. Did I trust him? The Zydar who had ripped me away from my old life? The Zydar who could kill me with a glance, or shred me into pieces if I made a wrong move? Did I trust him?
"Yes."
His hand slid around to my throat, his fingers curling possessively around my neck. His grip was strong and firm, but not tight enough to cut off my air.
His gaze grew intent, his dark eyes filled with heat and longing. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against mine.
"Mine," he whispered.
That one word, spoken in his deep, sensual voice, sent a tremor through me, lighting a fire in my veins. I could feel the truth of it, deep in my bones. There was no going back from this, no denying what we were to each other.
He lowered me gently onto my back. The cold stone was a sharp contrast to the heat of his body. His knee pressed between my thighs, parting them as he settled on top of me.
His breath was ragged against my mouth when he growled, “If you tell me to stop, it has to be now.” His lips brushed mine, almost a kiss, almost a warning.
He sounded desperate, like he was fighting himself, every breath ragged with restraint. As if he was trying to find a reason not to do it. Not the gods, not the curse, not even his own will could stop him now. Only me. Only my voice. One word and he’d stop.
"Say it. You have to say it. Tell me to stop." He inhaled, his body trembling. "Or I'm going to tear those little pants right off you, and I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember anything. Anyone. But my name."
My heart raced at his words. The thrill of it all, the pure desire, the sinfulness.
There was no way in any realm I was telling him to stop. Even if everything burned to ashes tomorrow, this was worth it. "Don't. Stop."
It was like a switch had been flipped. Instantly, he gave a guttural sound that was more feral beast than man.
I never knew a sound could be so damned erotic. He released my neck and gripped my hips, shifting his weight on top of me, his hard cock rubbing against me.
Even through the fabric of his breeches and my linen pants, I could feel how big and thick he was. Excitement and fear battled within me. Could I take him? Would he fit? I wanted it, desperately.
To hell with the fears. To hell with the consequences. This is what I want. And I was determined to make sure there wouldn’t be a single fucking obstacle left to stand in the way of me taking it. I lifted my hips, pressing against him, signaling to him what I needed him to do.
Pulling back slightly, he looked into my eyes. There was so much raw need and hunger written across his face. He reached between us, cupping me, his thumb stroking over my aching core. I gasped, my hips bucking against him.
With a swift motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband, yanked hard, and the stitching gave way with a sharp tear. The fabric split down the seam, baring my skin to the cold air. The thrill of it sent shivers up my spine and I gasped, leaning into him, wanting more.
His head lowered, rain-slick hair brushing my skin, and his mouth found a slow path down. He kissed every exposed inch of my neck, collarbones, chest, pausing to lick and suck each of my nipples, marking them with tiny red welts, drawing gasps and whimpers from me.
My hands plunged into his wet hair, tugging and tangling. The more I tugged, the harder he sucked, until my hips were lifting, desperate for him to go further. My core burned, unbearably hot.
Slowly, Zydar worked his way lower, trailing his mouth down my belly. He used the tip of his tongue to trace patterns across the smooth curves.
My breath caught as he neared the apex of my thighs.
My gaze darted down, suddenly conscious of the pale scars striping my thigh, and the bruises.
Bodies weren't made of pristine perfection, mine even less so.
Especially a fighter's body. I knew that, and yet, the thought of him looking and seeing it, made me squirm.
I kept my eyes on him, fearful, yet hopeful of how he would react when he saw them.
As if he sensed my hesitation, he gently kissed the first raised mark, his eyes coming up to meet mine. He leaned down and lavished each one with attention until a pool of arousal began to form between my legs.
"So beautiful."
I flushed all over, my cheeks blooming bright. I took a deep, ragged breath. No one had ever called me beautiful except for my sister or friends. And something told me, they hadn't meant it like this.
A mischievous grin spread across his face. He bent his head and resumed tracing the path he'd left off. Slowly, agonizingly, his mouth moved closer and closer to where I really wanted him.
Zydar cupped his hands under my ass, effortlessly lifting my hips to his face. His breath was hot against my damp core. He looked at me once more, his red eyes filled with wicked promise.
Holy stars. Was he really going to...?
Before I could think, his mouth was on me, devouring me like a starving man. My hips jerked violently, but his powerful arms held me in place, pinned beneath his tongue.
He swirled and licked and sucked, setting me on fire from the inside out. I bucked against my will. It was glorious. As he slid his tongue up inside me, I moaned.
My cries seemed to fuel his need for more and he doubled his efforts.
The slick wet, sucking sounds he was making were new to me.
I cried out once more, pawing at his shoulders, willing him to give me a break, even as I panted for more.
I saw him look up for a moment and smirk and I knew I was gone.
He continued his sweet torture, sending sparks of pleasure rocketing up and down my body.
I felt his tongue slide back out, circling and teasing my sensitive nub before dipping down, slipping back inside me, curling and retreating back out. All while his red eyes stayed locked on my face, hungrily drinking in every single sound, every shudder and whimper I gave him.
Gods, his tongue felt incredible, and all I could do was cry out and dig my fingers into the wet stone as he mercilessly brought me closer and closer to the edge.
It didn't take long before the world around me completely dissolved, swallowed up by the massive wave of pleasure that swept through me, eclipsing everything. I cried out his name, my whole body quivering beneath his tongue.