Chapter 11 #3
I moaned into his mouth. He swallowed it with those devouring lips, drinking down my submission like a man dying of thirst.
I dug my nails into his broad shoulders, the hard muscle flexing. Flames skittered over his skin, licking at my fingertips as if even they wanted to pull me deeper into him.
I curved my body into his with shameless hunger. My breasts crushed against the hard plane of his chest, nipples so sensitive I whimpered pathetically into his mouth at the brutal pressure.
Dalkhan’s hips rolled forward with deliberate precision, grinding his cock against the soaked centre of my need. Shockwaves of pleasure radiated outward from my core, lighting up every nerve ending in my body with white-hot intensity.
“Fuck,” he whispered into my mouth, his voice shredded with lust.
Then he ripped away so violently, so suddenly, I nearly collapsed in a boneless heap.
I choked on a frustrated sob at the sudden loss, my body screaming in protest. I needed him against me, pinning me. Caging me against him.
But he only watched me, close enough to reach him if I wanted, but far enough that his loss of heat was unbearable. The space between us might as well have been an ocean.
His eyelids hung heavy with lust, his breathing just as ragged and uneven as mine. A prominent vein pulsed in his neck, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if fighting the urge to tear my clothes from my body.
“Why do you torment me?” he rasped, the words dragged from somewhere primal and deep inside him.
I swallowed hard.
Was I supposed to answer? I didn’t even know I was tormenting him.
My hair stuck uncomfortably to my skin, plastered to my neck and forehead with sweat. I wanted to tear it away, but I was paralysed with terrifying certainty that any movement would shatter the moment, and he would disappear into the shadows like smoke.
I stood frozen. Waiting.
His predatory eyes roamed over me, drinking in my flushed skin, swollen lips, the heaving tension of my chest beneath the delicate silk.
His expression sharpened, tongue dragging over his teeth as stroked his beard.
“You let him touch you,” he repeated, quieter now—which was somehow more terrifying than his earlier rage.
A spark of defiance cut through the haze of my lust.
“You had women all over you,” I shot back, jabbing my finger at his chest with reckless courage.
What the fuck am I doing?
Dalkhan’s smirk unfurled slowly. He took a step forward, forcing me back. His body closing in like a rising tide. My spine hit the wall again, trapping me between the unyielding stone and his equally hard body.
“Did that bother you, little flame?” His voice was a whisper of pure sin.
Another step, until there was nothing—not a breath, not a thought—left between us.
His thick thigh pressed insistently between my legs, applying just enough pressure to make my breath catch painfully.
To feel the damning evidence of my arousal soaking through the thin fabric still clinging to my trembling body.
“You didn’t like it when she ran her tongue along my throat?” He traced one finger down the column of my neck, mimicking the action.
No, no I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
My teeth sank into my already swollen lip as I fought the overwhelming urge to tell him exactly how much it infuriated me, how it made me want to rip her tongue from her mouth with my bare hands.
But he saw it all—saw the jealousy, the rage, the want that had consumed me. I was so transparent he could probably see right through me.
Dalkhan chuckled, the sound rich and dark. His fingers trailed up my arm, teasing, before slipping beneath the fabric at my hip.
“Would it please you to know,” he continued, lips grazing the sensitive skin of my jaw with each word, “that I was only thinking of you?”
Yes, it pleased me. Fuck, I wanted to scream that it did, but I was too enthralled by his touch to even form the words. My head fell back against the wall with a soft thud.
His hand slid up, rough skin brushing the tender swell of my breast.
“When they fuck me,” he whispered, “I think of you.”
I made a strangled, needy sound, beyond caring about anything but the raging fire burning between us.
He traced the curve of my waist, skimming lower with maddening restraint. Teasing at the edge of my thighs. He gathered my skirt slowly in his fist, inching it upward to expose more of my burning skin to the cool air.
“When they take me in their mouths,” he continued, wicked and unhurried, “I close my eyes and pretend it’s your lips wrapped around my cock.” His voice dropped even lower. “I imagine how pretty you’d look on your knees for me. How desperately you’d take me. How you’d choke and still beg for more.”
My entire body trembled under the crushing weight of his words.
Dalkhan seized my hip hard, and in a single, fluid motion he lifted me completely off the ground. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, locking my ankles and drawing him closer.
He gripped the backs of my thighs, holding me against him effortlessly as he rolled his hips. A broken moan escaped me. The friction sent a sharp, aching pulse straight through me, liquifying my insides.
Dalkhan’s grip tightened. Fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thighs hard enough to leave marks.
“You feel that?” His forehead dropped to mine, our ragged breaths mingling in the small space between our parted lips. “How hard my cock is for you? That’s what you do to me.”
I was dizzy with want. Aching with emptiness.
Another slow roll of his hips dragged another desperate moan from my throat. I couldn’t have supressed it even if my life depended on it. I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair and tugging.
He growled low in his chest.
His hands slid up, rough palms pressing against my lower back.
Squeezing me closer, as if he wanted to meld his body with mine.
He brushed my temple with his lips, surprisingly gentle, before he moved to my cheekbone and skimmed down to my jaw.
His teeth scraped against my racing pulse, biting down hard.
I cried out.
Then, with a physically pained sound, he tore himself away again. The sudden loss of his body left me cold and disoriented.
Dalkhan moved to the edge of the bed and sat down, his legs spread wide and hands resting against his thighs. The very picture of dark command. His eyes, still burning with hunger, held mine captive. He squeezed himself through the straining fabric of his pants.
“Bow,” he commanded.
I sank to my knees before him, my pride suddenly a fickle, worthless thing in the face of this all-consuming need.
The stone floor was cold and unforgiving. My hands rested on my thighs, fingers splayed wide, trying to steady myself.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
I gazed at him through my lashes. My lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them. He tracked the movement, his own lips thinning as he held himself back.
His voice dropped to a sinful whisper. “Who do you worship?”
“You.”
He surged forward, gripping my chin.
“Tonight,” he murmured, “I will worship you.”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
The weight of his promise sent heat flooding between my thighs.
He released my chin with a rough push. “Get up and lie down.”
I stayed still for a beat, my body and mind working against each other. I knew I shouldn’t—that I should stop before I regretted it. Yet my body sung a different tune. Yearned for him. For his touch. His pull.
He dragged a thumb over my parted lips, pressing down.
“Move.”
With shaking hands and trembling legs, I pushed myself up. Each step toward the bed felt like wading through fire. The mattress dipped as I sank down onto it, the sheets a cool whisper of relief against my feverish skin.
Dalkhan didn’t move. He watched me with hungry eyes, like a beast that had waited far too long to devour its prey.
The instant my back hit the bed, he was there. His body blanketed mine, forearms braced on either side of my head. His muscles, like stone, vibrated with restrained force. I was caged in, his weight pinning me down in the most delicious way.
I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to.
I parted my legs, my thighs brushed the thick ridge beneath his pants. A shiver tore through me.
He didn’t move at first, just settled between them. Then he dipped his head, mouth grazing the line of my jaw before dragging down my throat. His hands roamed with maddening control, memorising me like a man who intended to own every inch.
He breathed deeply, savouring the scent of my arousal.
“I have stroked my cock to the thought of you,” he confessed. “Of your sweet cunt soaking my tongue.”
His hand glided over his erection, palming himself through the material. The fabric strained desperately against his size. His movements were slow, meant for me to watch.
My lashes fluttered, my bottom lip held firm between my teeth. I squirmed helplessly beneath him, hips rolling upward. My body seeking more friction—more pressure.
He smirked, smug and wicked. “You want that, little flame?” he murmured. “Do you want me to fuck you with my mouth until you break on my tongue?”
My breath stuttered as his fingers finally slipped between my legs, agonizingly slow, parting my soaked folds. My entire body clenched. His other hand still squeezed his cock through his pants, dragging over his length in time with the tease of his fingers.
I moaned, eyes fluttering closed as he brushed against my swollen, throbbing centre.
“Yes… yes!” I gasped. My hips jerked up into his hand, wild for more.
His thumb slowly circled my clit, each pass a taunt. “You’re dripping for me.”
My hips bucked, a strangled sound escaping me.
Then he stopped.
He brought his hand to his mouth, and with a sinful groan he licked his thumb clean, eyes closing in dark satisfaction at my taste.
I clawed at the sheets, waves of heat and want consuming me.