Chapter 11 #4
He dove back in, his thumb swirling mercilessly over my swollen clit. His gaze locked on mine. Every flutter of my lashes, every parting of my lips in a soft whimper was fuel to his fire.
He released his aching cock and fisted my hair, yanking my head back until my throat was exposed beneath his hungry teeth.
“I should fucking ruin you,” he rasped. “Make you feel exactly what you do to me.”
His fingers pressed harder, faster—the tension in my body winding deliciously tight.
Please. Heavens, yes.
I hadn’t even known I did that to him, but after everything he said—I wanted it. I wanted to feel—to be claimed, marked, and ruined in the best possible way.
He kissed his way down my body, devouring every inch.
I was mesmerised, helpless to stop him. Helpless to look away. The way his full lips parted as he dragged them over my skin—the flick of his tongue as he tasted me, groaning softly. The unbearable weight of his gaze as he reached the apex of my thighs, staring up with dark promise.
I gripped the sheets tighter as he dipped his head, and with a slow, long stroke of his tongue my body ignited.
A breathless cry spilled from my lips. I bucked into him, pleading for more, but he held me down, keeping me spread open beneath him.
My eyes fluttered shut. I was drowning in the overwhelming sensation of his worship.
“Watch me,” he growled against my skin. “I want you to see exactly who’s making you feel this way.”
I forced my eyes back open, meeting his fierce, dark gaze.
His mouth curved into a wicked smirk. “Good girl.”
His tongue was fire and his mouth relentless. He licked me open with obscene skill, circling and stroking until I was broken. Unable to stop the sounds from pouring out of me.
His fingers bruised my thighs, holding me in place as his mouth wrecked me. He groaned, the sound travelling through my skin and straight into my core.
My whole body bowed off the bed when he curled his tongue just right, again and again.
Never—never had anyone been able to make me feel like this. As if I were being consumed from the inside out. Remade in fire and pleasure with each flick.
“Look at you,” he murmured, mouth still pressed against me. “Making a mess all over my face.”
He stroked me deep before pulling away. Savouring every shudder, every moan I gave him.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Show me how much you want me. How much you need me. Squeeze my tongue with your sweet cunt.”
My head thrashed against the pillows, my body strung tight as a bow. I was climbing higher, racing toward a shattering peak.
“Yes… yes, so close…” I panted, digging my fingers into his dark hair. I held him tight, grinding my hips shamelessly against his face. “Please, don’t stop.”
“Let go,” he demanded, voice a deep growl against my swollen flesh. “Show me how good I make you feel. Come for me.”
And I did. Hard.
His name ripped from my throat in a broken, breathless scream as my world exploded white. I broke on his tongue, my body convulsing with brutal, blinding pleasure. I clamped my thighs around his head, my heels digging into his back.
Dalkhan groaned, but he kept licking. Kept sucking. Dragging out every aftershock until I was whimpering from the sheer, overwhelming intensity. Making sure I knew exactly who had given it to me.
Then he rose and crushed his mouth to mine, forcing his tongue in. Tasting me—making me taste myself.
I moaned, clutching at his shoulders, arms, anywhere I could grip.
But as quickly as he’d devoured me, he was gone. Vanishing into smoke.
I sat up too fast, heart pounding and skin slick with sweat. Cheeks flushed from the fire still burning between my legs. I pushed a trembling hand through my dampened hair.
What the fuck have I done?
I woke to that familiar thrumming deep inside my skull. A pulsing ache that settled behind my eyes like an unwelcomed guest. I dug my fingers into my temples, working desperate circles that did absolutely nothing to help.
The dream had been more vivid than ever.
He’d watched me burn, drinking in my agony. Relishing in every hellish second of it. There had been no pity in those eyes. No remorse. Only cold, unwavering intent.
I shuddered, pulling my knees tight to my chest.
It had to be a warning.
I gripped the sheets tightly, my whole body rigid with tension. Shame warred with something far worse inside me, worming its way up.
I had to remained focused. I was here for a reason, and yet…
I threw myself deeper into the sheets, burying my face as if I could smother the infecting thoughts.
He was getting to me.
I hated him. I loathed him—but I had never felt anything like that. Never.
His mouth—how it curved against my skin. The way his fingers had traced paths that still burned hours later. His voice, that low rumble as he unravelled me with such tormenting skill that I’d forgotten my own damn name.
I groaned, pressing my palms against my flushed face, trying to scrub away the sensation like it was something I could physically remove.
What was happening to me?
A shiver shot down my spine.
It was her.
Zaheera’s presence slid into my mind, wrapping around my thoughts like smoke.
“Sweet girl,” she purred, her voice dripping with that quiet amusement that made me want to punch something. “I told you not to fall for his charm.”
Even though she wasn’t physically there to see it, I rolled my eyes.
“I’m not falling—”
The words were stuck to my tongue, because deep down, I knew it wasn’t the truth.
Zaheera cut me off before I could force the lie out.
“The king takes pleasure in taking whatever he wants,” she murmured, slipping deeper into my skull, until I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began.
“Do not forget why you are here. Do not forget what he is capable of.”
Her words echoed in the empty spaces of my mind.
“It’s just… I don’t know what happens to me when he’s around. I can’t seem to resist him, and I know—” I exhaled sharply, blowing strands of hair away from my face, “I know I shouldn’t.”
“I warned you about the pull of this world. The pull of the Jinn—”
“I don’t feel this kind of pull to any other Jinn… just him.”
Her presence stilled, suddenly dense and oppressive. Her silence pressed down on me like a physical weight.
“Zaheera?” I called out, knowing full well she was still here, lurking in the shadows of my thoughts.
“Yes?” The word was clipped, almost irritated.
My hand rose unconsciously to my face, touching my cheek.
“Can you see me?” I asked, genuinely curious.
It felt like she could. She had warned me not to speak with the Seer at the market, and whenever something happened between Dalkhan and me, she seemed know.
“Not always.” Her presence wound tighter. “The bond we share through the bargain gives me access to speak into your mind, but when your emotions or feelings escalate, the bond almost sharpens to the point where I can see glimpses through your eyes.”
The knowledge was unsettling.
Zaheera’s departure was marked by a soft, almost affectionate caress against the barrier of my mind.
She was right. Why did she have to be right?
I had thought the hardest thing to do would be to find the stone and kill him. As it turned out, I was wrong. So incredibly, stupidly wrong.
There was another battle raging inside me. One I was already losing. My own selfish, dangerous desire was burrowing deeper, sinking its hooks into me. I had to stop.
I will never do that again.
Even as I made the vow, it already felt like a lie.
I yanked the blankets over my head and screamed into them—a ragged, furious growl dragged from the pit of my soul. My whole body shook. The thick fabric muffled the sound, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the mess inside me.
The pressure in my chest eased, but barely.
The moment I flung the blanket away, gasping for fresh air, I realised I’d had an audience.
Theo lay sprawled beside me on the bed, his hair a tangled bird’s nest. His face was half-buried in the pillow, one arm hanging limply off the side of the mattress.
Tavrik, ever composed, had slumped into a chair, his shoulders tense with exhaustion and one leg thrown over the armrest at an angle that couldn’t possibly be comfortable.
Both had pale faces and bloodshot, sunken eyes.
Good. At least I wasn’t the only one suffering.
Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face before propping himself up on his elbows.
“What in the hell happened last night?” He shook his head and winced, eyes squeezing shut. “That was too much, even for me.” He poked his own chest for emphasis, nearly toppling over.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing what felt like a smile, but probably looked more like I was in pain. I couldn’t let them know what had happened after I’d left.
“Yeah, it was—” I stammered, nervously pleating the edge of the sheets, “just as Mira said it would be. Intense.”
Tavrik hummed in what might’ve been agreement, his head bobbing. I wasn’t sure if he was nodding or just struggling to keep it upright. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, then stretched his arms above his head in a series of concerning cracks and pops.
A thick silence stretched between us, broken only by our collective groans and the occasional whispered curse.
“I almost fucked my shadow.” Theo muttered, staring at the ceiling with a faraway look.
Tavrik and I whipped our heads toward him—a mistake we both immediately regretted as we winced in pain—eyes widening to perfect circles before we broke into hysterical laughter.
Theo didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, as if recounting a perfectly reasonable experience.
Tavrik leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees and lips stretched into a grin so wide it must’ve hurt. “What do you mean almost?”
Theo sighed, flinging an arm across his forehead. “It was looking at me. I was looking at it… We had a moment.” His hands rose, fingers dancing in the air, mimicking two shadowy figures approaching each other.