Chapter 11 #2
“You so sure I’m going to?” I said, breathless now, the way my body was beginning to ignite becoming impossible to ignore.
He tilted his head, lips barely brushing mine. “You already have.”
I closed my eyes, barely able to think straight, trying to grasp on to whatever sliver of sense I had left.
“I’ll admit it,” I said slowly. “I’ll admit I’m yours.” I didn’t dare open my eyes. But I could hear Blake’s breath catch—just slightly. I let the pause stretch, made him wait for it. “If,” I continued, “you’ll admit you’re mine.”
I felt him go very still. I opened my eyes. Blake’s gaze drilled into mine, not moving, not blinking.
Then, slowly, he smiled. A guileless smile that had no malice, no cruelty, only certainty.
“All you ever had to do,” he said as my heart flew to my throat, “was ask.” Blake leaned down, his hands flat on the door behind me, imprisoning me.
His mouth brushed my ear. “I’m yours, Pendragon.
Every brutal, broken piece. If you want me. ”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.
“And you’re mine, here, now, forever,” he whispered, brushing his fangs lightly along my throat. Teasing me. Promising me.
His hand gripped my thigh, yanking it up against his waist, pinning me even tighter against the door. I could feel his body, hot and hard against me, even through the trousers he still wore.
I shivered. “Prove it,” I whispered.
The bite wasn’t gentle. It was a claim. Merciless and possessive.
I gasped, gripping the front of his shirt, yanking him closer against me as his fangs anchored his mouth to my skin.
The pain was sharp for an instant, then melted into pleasure.
Pure need. Blake moaned against my neck as he drank, and the sound went straight to my core.
When he finally lifted his head, my blood slick on his lips, I stared at him with nothing but longing, dazed from his fangs, drunk on the intimacy of what we were doing.
“You’re playing with fire, Black Prince,” I warned him. But my voice was unsteady.
His eye gleamed. “Fire’s the only thing that can forge something worth keeping—though, you’re already priceless to me, Pendragon.”
He was on me before I could form an answer, lifting me off the floor, carrying me to the bed. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t. He laid me down, following me onto the mattress, bracing his weight on his elbows so he didn’t crush me.
“You’re mine,” he repeated, snarling against my mouth as he kissed me, fangs grazing my lips, my chin, the line of my throat. “Say it.”
I gasped as he raked a hand up my thigh, bunching the silk fabric of my nightdress at my hips. “You’re mine,” I shot back.
He laughed in delight, then caught my lower lip between his teeth. “You’re damned right I am, Pendragon.” He shifted, sliding the nightdress higher, tracing the inside of my thigh with practiced fingers. “Say it again.”
I arched up into him, gasping. “You’re mine.”
He growled, and the sound vibrated through my whole body, reminding me of Nyxaris. “Say it like you mean it, little dragon.”
My hands shot up, grabbing his hair, dragging him down closer until there was no space left between us. My mouth crashed onto his, desperate and hungry. “You’re mine, Blake Drakharrow,” I breathed against his lips. “And may all the gods of your world and mine help you if you ever try to forget it.”
His laugh rumbled against my skin. “I wouldn’t dare. Not in this life. Nor in the next.”
I froze at the words, trying not to think about them too closely.
And then he was kissing me back, as if tattooing me with his lips, branding himself into my blood, my bones, my every breath.
I clawed at his shirt, yanking it up, feeling the ripple of muscle underneath, the heat of his skin.
Blake tore it off, tossing it aside carelessly.
His fangs grazed my throat again, teasing, promising.
I gasped, raking my nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed under my touch.
His mouth crashed into mine again, but I pushed him back, hands against his chest, surprising him.
He let me move him, pressing him down until he was seated at the edge of the bed.
Sliding off Blake, I stood in front of him, watching his face as I slid the other thin strap of my nightdress from my shoulder.
The fabric slid down my body, pooling around my feet.
Blake’s eye darkened, his jaw tightening with barely contained restraint. “Pendragon,” he warned, his voice gritty and raw.
But I was done with warnings. Done with games.
The same feeling of being about to explode—the reckless desire to throw caution to the wind and burn everything down that had led me to drag Blake into an empty classroom the other day—was upon me again, urging me on, encouraging me to trade rationality for rebellion.
I wondered if Blake could feel it, too, that sense of snapped restraint.
I knelt before him. His breath hissed out from between his teeth.
“My Black Prince,” I murmured, sliding my hands along his thighs.
They were taut, lean, muscular, like every part of him.
I reached for the front of his trousers, unfastening them slowly, savoring the sight of him struggling for control.
He lifted his hips to help me, and I tugged the fabric down, freeing him.
He was hard and beautiful and mine. All mine.
I wrapped my fingers around him, and a low, guttural groan slipped from his throat.
Slowly, I leaned in, pressing a kiss to the flushed tip of his cock, tasting the bead of arousal there.
Blake’s hands clenched the sheets at his sides, knuckles white. “Pendragon,” he rasped, “you don’t have to …”
But I wanted to. Gods, how desperately I wanted to.
I ran my tongue along the length of him, savoring the way he shuddered, the way his body trembled.
He was barely holding onto restraint. Then, without mercy, I took him into my mouth.
Blake’s breath left him in a ragged gasp.
One of his hands shot out, burying itself in my hair.
I moved slowly at first, hollowing out my cheeks, sliding my mouth down his length, feeling the tension getting higher and higher.
Blake’s head fell backwards. “Fuck. You’re going to kill me, Pendragon,” he breathed.
I smothered a smile. Good. Let him suffer. Let him burn the way he always made me burn.
I dragged my mouth around him, swirling my tongue, then sliding back down. His hips jerked, fingers tightening in my hair. I drank in every broken sound he made, every strangled groan. Blake was losing it … and I loved every second of it.
“Pendragon,” he hissed, his voice wrecked and shaking. “I’m not going to last if you keep—oh, fuck.” His hand froze in my hair, but I didn’t stop. His free hand gripped the bed behind him, entire body taught, trembling. The muscles of his thighs quivered with the effort of holding himself back.
I felt it when he started to come undone. The low groan he made. The way his hips arched. His desperate hand clenching in my hair. He came with a hoarse cry, body shuddering, hips jerking. I swallowed every drop, drinking him in like he drank my blood, like a starving woman.
When he finally opened his eye and looked down at me, the expression on his face made my breath catch.
Pure. Reverent. I stopped myself before I could think too much about what that expression meant.
Instead, I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand and rose to my feet slowly.
Blake caught my wrist and pulled me into his lap in one swift motion, strong arms wrapping around me, holding me tight. It felt … good. It felt … right.
I leaned against him. He pressed his forehead against mine, still breathing hard. “Fuck, Pendragon. That was …”
I smiled, brushing his damp silver hair from his forehead. “Good,” I murmured.
“Good doesn’t begin to describe what that was.
” Blake had me by the waist and flipped me back onto the bed before I could even try to stop him—not that I would have.
He reared back for a moment, looking down at me, his very gaze a flame.
“Do you even know how perfect you are?” he said, his voice low, worshipful.
I squirmed at the compliment, reaching up for him. “Get back here, Black Prince,” I whispered.
He laughed, then his face sobered. “I mean it, Pendragon. There is nothing about you that is not perfect to me. Inside and out. Nothing you do could ever make me run, make me look away.”
I thought of the way he’d seen me pummeling the shit out of Larissa and winced.
He touched my cheek. “No,” he whispered, as if he were reading my thoughts. “Not even that. Let me see all of you, even your darkness. Let me be the one who will never, ever look away. I treasure you, all of you. The darkness and the light.” He chuckled. “Maybe the darkness a little more.”
But below the veil of laughter, his voice was sad in a way I disliked.
“Blake.”
He’d already begun to move again. His mouth found mine, his hands roaming everywhere—over my breasts, down my sides, across the curves of my hips.
His cock pressed against my thigh, hot, heavy, hard again.
I moaned as he caught my wrists, pinning them over my head with one large hand, as his other traveled down my body.
When his fingers brushed the slick heat between my legs, he grinned.
“So wet for me,” he murmured against my throat.
“Something you’ve been dying to ask me for? ”
I should have resisted. Should have snarled something mouthy back, but I couldn’t. I only arched into his touch, aching for more.
“Say it,” he demanded, voice low and edged. “Tell me what you want. Tell me who you belong to.”
“I want you to fuck me,” I gasped.“Please, Blake.” I hesitated, gritting my teeth.Why was it so difficult to speak the truth? Maybe because I’d been running from it as hard as I could for so long. “I’m yours.”