CHAPTER THIRTY #2
He doesn’t hesitate. He smacks my clit, provoking a whimper to tumble from my lungs, but in a flash, his tongue is a soothing caress.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Like that. Right there.”
He plunges two fingers into me, and the sloshing sound of my arousal sails through the room. The fullness and the vibrations and his tongue—all of it is too much and not enough.
“Your taste is so damn addictive. Pixy Stix and terror. A sweet royal nightmare.” His teeth scrape along my clit with a grin before he flicks it and goads me into a climax. “Told you I’d be your good boy.”
Lick. Swirl. Pump. Nip.
“You are,” I agree, drunk on the visual of us in the glass and every touch. Pressure mounts low in my belly, and a sheen of sweat lines my pores. “I’m so close. Make me come, Mad.”
His mouth and fingers and effusive growls are everywhere, blending with the seductive playlist and enhancing every brush so that each one penetrates my veins and muscles and bones. My eyes water, and my limbs quake within the bindings. I spin and soar and unravel.
A rumbling moan pours from me as I pulsate around his fingers and tip over a rapturous cliff, flying into ecstasy.
He keeps devouring me for the entire flight.
A tremble scampers through me, goose bumps erupting as I stifle the scream announcing my peak.
His tongue never forgoes his serving-the-monarch mission, whirling my too-sensitive clit so twitchy zaps of overwhelming pleasure shower over me.
Even through the floating-down haze, all I can think about is that I want my fingers in his hair. And my legs wrapped around his waist. And his cock deep inside me.
“Untie me, Maddox. I need you inside me. Now.”
“You’re willing to give up control for my cum, baby?”
“Please,” I plead.
In a heady blink, I’m unbound and cradled and tossed onto the bed with my hauntingly beautiful madman hovering over me.
He folds me in half, my legs slung over his shoulders as he glides his steel length inside me.
My ass is still full of the vibrating plug, so his piercings and substantial girth require a stretch that sends a quiver romping up my spine.
I lock my ankles and squeeze my thighs, forcing him deeper. “Rough, Drac. I can take it.”
“That’s my girl. Of course you can.” He gathers my wrists in one of his hands, holding them to the bed, above my head, while his other hand squeezes my throat, and he pounds into me.
“I might be your good boy when I’m on my knees, eating that delectable pussy.
But you are always my perfect slut, my good girl, my queen.
” He smacks the side of my breast, issuing another exquisite sensation with his declaration. “My beautiful Nightmare. Fucking mine.”
And the heart of the nickname clicks. Everything he tried to run from, but couldn’t.
“You’re everything I was afraid to want, but couldn’t escape. We were inevitable, Tess. You’re my home.”
Being owned by Maddox Noire is liberating.
“Yours. More,” I pant as he releases my wrists and circles my clit in an enchanting cadence that matches the rhythm of his punishing thrusts and the beat of the music.
An erotic dance of dominance.
My fingers weave through his silken strands, and my eyes latch to the carnal, stormy grays that see the parts of me that others have asked me to hide. And the realization that I think I’m in love with him assaults me like a cresting wave. I can’t seem to say it, but I think he knows.
His lips descend upon mine, and he kisses me wildly. Still gripping my throat, still pumping viciously, all while lapping up my soul, claiming every dark and messy piece. And I return every ounce of passion, eager to let him have my all.
Love is an action.
My back bows, arching into him so my pebbled nipples graze his taut chest, shooting another quiver of euphoria through me. The room fades in and out, swaying so the only constant is him.
He bites my lip, never breaking the ferocious tempo of his thrusts or his foray on my clit or this kiss that reaches depths and dreams and deep-seated fears. Healing me with promises and plans. And blinding pleasure.
But then he slows, and what has always been feral between us blossoms into something soft and smooth and supremely pivotal. It’s that realm that gets mentioned in movies or books, a far-fetched fairy tale that I never believed existed.
We become one. Whole. No me without him.
“Home,” I murmur against his mouth, breathless and blissed out.
This connection transcends every guard I had around my heart, every preconceived notion I had about what could be conquered with another person. My walls crumble. And so do his.
“That’s right, baby girl,” he praises as we both teeter on the summit, trembling in one another’s embrace.
The room streaks to amber and indigo with shadows of hope. Hot jets of his cum stream inside me. And we surrender to his song. Slamming and shaking and warbling a harmony of rhapsodies.
Once our aftershocks calm, he scoops me up and rolls us so I’m lying on top of him. He removes the plug from my ass, holds me tight, and scratches up and down my spine, reminding me who I am. “You are my forever home, Tess. And I’m yours.”
Several serene minutes later, he’s still buried inside me, but when some of our release leaks out, he pushes it back in with a low growl. Yet another attempt to mark me as his, which brings me back to the catalyst for the claiming.
I lift my chin to rest on his chest. “How long is forever, Maddox?”
“Eternity, baby. This life and the next and every fucking one after that. My soul will always belong to yours.” He smiles and pecks my nose.
But the impending turmoil we’re engulfed in is written in his features.
The afterlife might come sooner than we’d like.