Chapter 6
LUKE
She's a fucking masterpiece.
Laid out on the red velvet, hair spilling around her head, skin flushed and glowing in the candlelight.
Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, her nipples tight peaks practically begging for my mouth.
And between her thighs, she's glistening—so wet I can see it from here, her arousal catching the light so fucking perfectly.
She's gorgeous, responsive, and completely surrendered to me.
I stand over her for a moment, just taking in the view. She's watching me through heavy-lidded eyes, her lips swollen and stained red from the wine. There's no more fear in her expression—just need. Raw, desperate, all-consuming need.
I built that need kiss by kiss, grape by grape, until she was begging me for more.
And now I'm going to reward her.
I reach for the wine bottle and pour a fresh glass, letting her watch. The cabernet is the color of old blood in the candlelight, deep and dark and rich. I take a slow sip, savoring the taste, making her wait. Teasing her just a moment longer.
"Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?" I ask, my voice low and throaty.
She shakes her head, swallowing hard as she watches me.
"I'm going to worship every inch of you.
" I set the glass down and kneel beside the chaise, bringing my face level with her body.
"I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your own name.
And then, when you're completely wrecked, when you can't think or speak or do anything except feel—" I lean in, letting my breath ghost across her stomach. "Then I'm going to fuck you."
Her whole body shudders at the words.
"But first," I continue, reaching for the wine glass again, "I want to taste you."
I tilt the glass over her body, letting a thin stream of wine pour onto her skin. It pools in the hollow of her collarbone, dark red against her flushed skin. She gasps at the temperature—the wine is cool, a stark contrast to her overheated body.
I lean down and lick it away.
The taste of wine and Seraphina explodes across my tongue, and I groan against her skin. She tastes like everything good in the world—salt and sweetness and an underlying note that's uniquely her. I drag my tongue across her collarbone, chasing every drop, then move lower.
Another pour. This time between her breasts, the wine sliding down the valley of her sternum. I follow its path with my mouth, licking and sucking, feeling her chest heave beneath me.
"Oh god," she breathes. "Oh fuck, that's—"
"Good?" I lift my head to look at her. "Tell me how it feels."
"Like nothing I've ever—" She breaks off with a moan as I drip more wine, this time directly onto her nipple. The dark liquid beads on the tight peak before sliding down the curve of her breast.
I catch it with my tongue, tracing a circle around her areola before finally closing my mouth over her nipple. I suck hard, pulling the wine-soaked flesh between my lips, and she arches off the chaise with a cry.
"That's it," I murmur against her breast. "Let me hear you."
I lavish attention on one breast, then the other, coating her with wine and licking it clean. By the time I'm done, she's writhing beneath me, her hands fisted in the velvet, her hips rolling in a desperate search for friction.
"Please," she gasps, eyes wild and desperate. "Please, I need—"
"I know what you need." I pour a thin line of wine down the center of her stomach, watching it pool in her navel. "And I'm going to give it to you. But you're going to have to be patient."
"I can't be patient." Her voice is wrecked, barely recognizable now. "I can't, I need you to touch me, please—"
I silence her with my mouth on her stomach, lapping up the wine with broad, flat strokes of my tongue. She tastes fucking incredible. I tongue her navel, swirling the wine before drinking it down, and she moans so loudly it echoes off the stone walls.
I shift my position, settling between her thighs. She spreads them without being asked, opening herself to me with a trust that makes my chest ache. I can see everything from here—how swollen her clit is, how her pussy begs to clench my cock, how wet she is from everything I've done to her.
I consider pouring wine here, too. But ultimately decide some things don't need embellishment.
I press a kiss to her inner thigh, and she jerks like she's been shocked.
"Easy." I smooth my hands up her legs, holding her open. "I've got you."
"Fuck." It's barely a whisper now. "Please, please, please—"
I stop teasing and give her what she needs.
The first stroke of my tongue draws a sound from her that goes straight to my fucking cock—a keening moan that breaks in the middle like a sob. She tastes even better than I imagined, absolutely addictive. I flatten my tongue and lick from her entrance to her clit in one long, slow stroke.
Her thighs try to close around my head, but I hold them open, pinning her in place while I feast on her. I've thought about this for months—having her spread out before me, making her come on my tongue in this cellar I built for her. The reality is better than any fantasy.
"Oh fuck, oh god, oh—" She's babbling now, her hips trying to grind against my face despite my grip. "Right there, please, right there—"
I focus on her clit, circling it with my tongue, then sucking it between my lips. She screams and I feel her thighs shaking against my palms.
"Come for me," I growl against her pussy. "Let go, love. I want to taste it. All of it."
She shatters beneath my hold.
The orgasm rips through her with enough force to bow her back off the chaise, her whole body going rigid as waves of pleasure crash over her. I keep my mouth on her through all of it, licking her through the aftershocks, drawing out every last tremor.
She's still twitching when I pull back, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed. Beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful.
"One," I say, and watch her brow furrow in confusion.
"What?"
"That's one." I press a kiss to her oversensitive clit, and she jerks violently. "We're not done."
"I can't—" She's shaking her head, but her body is already responding, her hips tilting toward my mouth. "I can't possibly—"
"You can." I slide two fingers inside her, feeling how tight she is, how wet. "And you will. Because I want you to."
I work her with my fingers and my mouth, building her up again before she's even fully come down from the first orgasm. She's so sensitive now that every touch makes her gasp, every lick makes her moan. I vary the pressure, the speed, reading her body like a map I've memorized.
The second orgasm is harder than the first, tearing through her with a violence that makes her whole body convulse. She's crying now and the sight of it makes an animalistic and primal feeling roar to life in my chest.
Mine. She's mine. Every tear, every moan, every shudder of pleasure—all of it belongs to me.
"Two," I murmur against her thigh. "One more, baby. Give me one more."
"I can't." She's sobbing openly now, her hands scrabbling at the velvet. "I can't, it's too much, I can't—"
"You can." I curl my fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her see stars. "You can, because you're mine, and I say you can."
I press down on her g-spot while sucking hard on her clit, and she detonates so fucking quickly.
This time there's no scream. The pleasure is so intense it steals her voice, leaving her silent and shaking, her mouth open in a soundless cry.
I feel her pussy clamp down on my fingers in rhythmic waves, and then the gush of wetness against my palm, and eventually her entire body goes limp as the orgasm finally releases her.
Three.
I withdraw my fingers slowly, gently, and press one last kiss to her inner thigh. She doesn't react—I'm not sure she's even conscious of me anymore. She's floating somewhere beyond thought, beyond language, beyond anything except sensation.
Exactly where I wanted her.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and move up her body, stretching out beside her on the chaise. She's still trembling, little aftershocks rippling through her at random intervals. Her eyes are closed, her face slack with pleasure.
I brush the hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "You did so well," I murmur. "So fucking perfect."
Her eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then slowly finding my face. She looks wrecked—lips swollen, cheeks tear-stained, skin flushed from chest to forehead.
She looks like mine.
"How do you feel?" I ask, tracing my finger along her jaw.
"I don't—" She has to swallow twice before she can speak. "I don't have words."
"Then don't use them." I lean in and kiss her softly, letting her taste herself on my lips. "Just feel."
She melts into the kiss, her body curving toward mine instinctively. I can feel the heat of her against my clothed body, the way her nipples drag across my chest, the way her hand fumbles at my waistband.
"I want—" She breaks the kiss to look at me, and there's desperation in her eyes. "I need to feel you."
Fuck. How am I supposed to say no to that?
I've been hard for hours, my cock straining against my pants since the moment she awoke. Every moan she's made, every time she's begged, every orgasm I've wrung from her body—it's all been building toward this moment.
I sit up and pull my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. Her eyes track the movement, darkening with want as she takes in my bare chest. Her hand reaches out, fingers tracing the lines of my tattoos, the ridges of my abs.
I stand and remove my pants, freeing my cock. Her eyes widen slightly, and I see her thighs press together, her body already preparing for me.
"On your back," I tell her, even though she's barely moved. "Spread your legs for me."
She complies instantly, her thighs falling open, her pussy glistening in the candlelight. She's so wet I can see it dripping onto the velvet, ruining the fabric. I don't give a fuck about the chaise. I'd burn this whole cellar down if it meant getting inside her.
I position myself between her legs, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. She's so slick I could slide in with no resistance at all, but I hold back, savoring the moment.
"Look at me," I command.
Her eyes meet mine through the mask, and I see everything there—trust, need, surrender. Complete and total surrender.
"Tell me you want this," I say, even though her body has already told me a thousand times. I need to hear the words. "Tell me you want me."
"I want you." Her voice is hoarse but certain. "I want this. Please fuck me."
I thrust forward and bury myself to the hilt.