Chapter 37
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Violet
M y dreams take an erotic turn.
Warm lips are gliding over my flesh, making me throb inside and ache, making my nipples peak.
Hands slide up over my bare skin, flaring sparks where they touch, making me wet, and all I can smell is the erotic secret edge to oak.
He captures a nipple between his teeth and sucks hard, and I cry out, feeling it everywhere. He releases it, biting and licking a path up my throat, to my ear where he bites down, making me gasp and clench and sigh.
The touch is magic, like lights coming on within, like I’m a network of pressure points, receptors for the pure ecstasy he brings.
The beard is both soft and a delight of roughness that surges arousal higher .
“Princess…”
I moan low. This isn’t a dream; the hair between my fingers, thick and soft, is Stephan’s. I’d know the power of his touch anywhere, but I hover between dream and awake, liking the way it expands horizons. Not pleasure, but it blurs edges, and like this I don’t need to think, I can just be .
Pulling him closer, I urge his mouth to mine, kissing him deeply, sliding my tongue into his mouth and taunting his. I kiss him first. I tease the way he teases me, I find all the hidden depths and pleasures in the heat and wetness, the taste of him.
He’s hard.
So hard. His cock is pressing at my thigh. I push up, flowing over him and then I straddle, reaching down to squeeze, tease his turgid flesh.
I rub him against my opening before I sink down, rising and falling, loving the stretch, the way he opens me, fills me, makes me complete in a way I don’t understand.
He drags me down, kissing me hard, our tongues a duel of madness. My hips undulate on him and then he flips us, thrusting up into me, so deep he hits a part of me that aches each time he slams in. The kiss grows deeper, more lush, more filled with desire and all delicious things.
Is he going to knot?
He begins to slam, movements slipping into wildness, and my breath catches as he kisses down to my throat to bite me like he’s claiming me all over again. I wrap my legs around him and?—
Stephan lifts his head, stills, deep inside me, and then he kisses me again.
“I fucking love the taste of you. ”
“Keep going.” I move under him to start that wild ride again.
Stephan groans, pushes my hands away as I reach for him, and pulls out of me.
“No!”
“Yes…” He kisses his way down my body, finally coming to a heated rest right between my legs. “This fucking view,” he mutters, sucking on my clit, making the flames inside lick so high I just might combust.
And yet I need more. I need him. All of him, I need the heights he can take me to, the wild depths. All of it.
Stephan doesn’t need to ask. He knows me now. I lift my hips to him as he buries his face between my legs and he starts to suck and lick and nibble, making the ache in me flare into wild need. I don’t know if it’s just arousal or slick, but his fingers slide into me so easily, even as he widens them to make me stretch, something that shakes me down to my soul.
How he can wring out these deep moments from me, make me want more, is the kind of mystery I’ll happily spend my life exploring.
Stephan starts to thrust with his finger as he sucks around my clit. I whimper, shifting, trying to get his mouth exactly where I want it, exactly where he doesn’t want to go.
He’s a monster, building and building the pressure, his fingers sliding in and out, turning me into a ball of excited, needful energy. If I could just get him to close his mouth around my clit, offer me the heat and soft stroke of his tongue, I’d be happy. I’d be there, almost there.
But he dangles the orgasm out of reach.
Oh my God, now he pushes his thumb into my ass, the place he invaded and brought me to a wild and pagan pleasure last night, before?—
I block out the talk, going to bed, being in his arms, my lonely tangled thoughts, I block it all out and latch onto the renewed tendrils of pleasure.
And then he does it, while thrusting into me, pistoning in gentle pumps. His mouth finally takes my clit, and I’m consumed by that burst of warm wetness, the gentle suck that won’t stop.
“Stephan…” He’s built me up and up and now…now it’s almost too much. Because that suck stops being gentle. It has force behind it, and tongue now, tongue that pushes and stimulates beyond what I can take. I shudder, trying to twist free.
He won’t let me.
His arm pins one of mine, his free hand grips my other hip, and I’m caught, at his mercy. The pressure changes again; it’s aggressive now, a scrape of teeth added to the suck and lick and thrust of fingers.
I’m gone, I’m fevered, my clit’s too sensitive, I’m too sensitive, I need him to stop, I need…
“Oh, God .”
I need more.
He doesn’t stop.
Stephan doesn’t stop.
He keeps licking, sucking, nibbling my clit, and his fingers keep working me, keep working that spot.
I thrash, trying to get away, the throbbing spasms of my orgasm still ricocheting through me.
“No, no, it’s too much, please.”
Stephan has turned into a sadist, and he keeps going, not letting up, not even to speak to me. And I can’t escape him. I sob, everything fluttering to get free, to find a moment to breathe. And then…and then it changes again, into something deeper, like I have to pee, a pressure starting up inside me and the throbbing beats of the orgasm don’t dissipate. They start to build in a different way.
Like it’s coming, this time, from beyond my clit, and not like how it was when he fucked my ass. This is different. It’s a clanging throb. The beat is from inside my soul, and as the orgasm blooms once more it takes all of me on that journey, and I come so hard I think I pee.
I’m sobbing, a mess, on the verge of blacking out, as I’m hit by wave after wave of chaotic pleasure.
“That’s it, Princess. You’re doing perfectly for me. I knew you could take it.” Rising up over me, he starts to fuck me again. It’s so hard and deep, it makes the bed shake and creak loudly.
“Stephan…” His words light an inferno in me, and my back arches as every part of me catches fire.
This time, when he comes I can feel him. His cock twitching as spurt after spurt hits inside.
He kisses me again, this time tiny kisses, butterfly wings over my lips. When he pulls out, I’m exhausted, happy, and he tucks me into his side and whispers, “Sleep.”
Next time I wake, I’m aching, sticky, and alone. I touch the other side of the bed, but Stephan’s not there and the pillow is cold.
I lie there, the mid-morning sun streaming in through the curtains. I know he didn’t knot again last night. The need for it is still there in me.
Was he close?
Frustration swamps me as I drag myself up and shower. The thing is I don’t know. I’m not experienced.
I’m not his first love, or even love at all. I can’t hate a dead girl. I can’t be jealous of her having him before I ever met him.
The heaviness settles on me, in me, and it’s hollow, too. A strange feeling and one I’m not used to, the hollowness.
I miss my sisters.
When I get dressed, there’s a message from Mari on my phone. And my heart leaps.
Mari
There’s some kind of Omega thing today. You’re exempt, like that Jade girl who’s marked and Tamborine. Want to go gloat? You would enjoy that. I’ll draw them for posterity, and then we can go check out all the hot men on the Lower Side. With you as chaperone, of course.
Who’s Tamborine?
It’s Mari so I never expect her to pay attention to people that don’t interest her. It’s either a noisy girl or a musical one or someone with a name that sounds like…tambourine?
I call Iris. “Who’s Tamborine?”
“I know what one is but not anyone with that name, Vi. Shouldn’t you be naked and hanging from the ceiling?—”
“Iris!” I head down to the kitchen, wanting coffee. There’s a glass of juice sitting there, condensation on the glass and cold to the touch, with a little handwritten note stating drink me .
I don’t know where Stephan is. He’s not here. I can’t smell him, and the place feels empty.
I drink the juice as I set up the coffee machine.
“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry in the least. “Who’s tambourine?”
“Mari said there’s some thing for the singles, and we should go and gloat and someone named Tamborine got marked?—”
“Oh! Tamara. She’s one of the quiet Omegas. I’m shocked you aren’t friends.”
I finish my juice. It’s a little too pulpy today, making it slightly gritty. But I don’t want to complain. “You make being quiet sound boring.”
“I don’t know her. She seems nice, which is why…” Iris stops. “Are you okay?”
“I just miss you guys.”
“Well, we’ll collect Quinn and we can all go gloat.”
“Mari wants to then ogle boys.”
“I can do that. Ogle. But beyond that—nope.”
I laugh. “Fine, we’ll meet you there.”
“You. No mated Alphas allowed.”
There’s a moment of hesitation, but then I say, “Okay. Let me know what time and I’ll see you.”
I text Mari:
Coordinate with Iris, and I’ll be there.
Mari
Excellent. Mom says we need to bring Rue. She’s hosting a mothers’ lunch and is in a tizz.
Probably, I think, because a lot of the other mothers are competitive. I know for Mom the Season might be deemed a success for me, and other parents would rest on their laurels, but she has four other daughters, and one son who’s using our father’s death to escape a lot of the scandal he caused by not participating before Dad’s death. Not really. Never with intent. Before, he was having too much fun. Now, he’s full of burden.
I sigh and take my coffee, drinking it as voices fill the downstairs.
My heart skips a beat at the sound of them. And I smile. Heath and Stephan.
“Oh, good, you’re up, and you had your juice. Heath’s here.”
“She can see, Ashford.”
“I’m going to meet my sisters.”
Heath straightens. “Duty calls. Raincheck, Ashford?”
“Not you,” I say. “My sisters and I, just the girls. It’s fine. Mom knows.”
If my brother’s here, it’s good for me to go out, let them bond properly. I know there’s still some feelings on Heath’s side about this union with his friend.
I go to leave, and Stephan slides an arm around me and kisses me.
“Okay, okay, Jesus, dude. That’s my sister.”
“Deal with it, Gardener. ”
“Not a chance.” Heath mutters something crass under his breath.
“I’m going,” I say.
“We’ll talk when you get back,” Stephan says.