Chapter 10 #3
“Don’t taste me. You’re not allowed.” I hold his gaze, but my hips rock against the growing hardness just beneath his pants. His lashes flutter with a stifled growl that catches in his throat.
“You’re dangerous, Crymson.” He doesn’t breathe, but there’s a jagged unevenness to his words.
“It’s your magic. You can stop it. You can take all of this away... if you want.” I peer up at him through thick lashes, and his smile tilts as he closes his eyes and shakes his head.
For a single moment, I think he will stop all of this. The warmth of the sunlight kissing across my skin lessens into dense shadows. Reality cracks along the seams of this dreamland. The ocean breeze halts into cold, stifled air. Darkness bleeds in across the pink, sun-kissed sky behind him.
But the waves continue to sweep in. They wash into the shoreline and drag out the debris of this world. Only pretty seashells remain, jagged and beautiful in the sand.
Cool fingers slip under my borrowed shirt, sweeping back and forth along the lowest part of my ass.
I’m entranced by the ghost-like feel of his fingertips.
Even as I’m jostled closer into him and held slightly higher above him.
I cling to his gaze for a single questioning moment before the cold feel of his fingers dips even lower, and he skims the edge of my wetness along the lace of my panties.
A demanding groan shakes through his solid chest.
No space at all separates us. Our noses nearly touch. Our locked gazes are unbreakable. It’s a challenging stare suddenly. He’s challenging me that he’ll do it. And I’m challenging him to please, for the love of orgasmic escape, fucking do it.
The prickling feel of his hair sliding through my fingers is intensified. Everything is. I hold his head in my hands while I tilt toward him and brush my lips ever so lightly against his. Not a kiss. Not really. Just... a want .
And that’s all it takes.
My gasp slips over his mouth as his finger slides under the lace and up my wetness.
He takes his time touching me as if memorizing the slickness against his palm and the jaggedness of my breaths.
Harder he presses against the most sensitive part of me.
The pressure he circles against my clit has me digging my nails into the back of his neck in a terrible, needy way.
It’s a calculated slowness. He drags every breath out of me while circling his fingers back and forth until a cruel, tilted smile kisses the corner of his lips.
Then he sinks into me. We’re tightly tangled together, and it feels so fucking good, I’m vibrating.
The air around us holds glinting colors that I’ve never seen in my entire life.
Every single move of his palm is magnified along the most sensitive parts of my body.
I clutch onto his shoulders while breathing my every breath against his sensuous smirk.
“Don’t ever tell me to stop again, Crymson,” he groans, his mouth nearly catching mine but not quite.
The ache that’s building inside me is only heightened by the fact that he won’t kiss me.
I’m hanging on his every word, my lashes fluttering to hold the intensity in his hooded, golden eyes. “Nod your head.”
My moan is a cutting gasp that slices between our lips, but somehow, I manage to nod as he sinks another finger deep inside.
I keep nodding. I’m riding his palm, and he’s holding me by the back of my neck while he fucks me with his hand, and it all becomes a chaotic energy that threatens to crack down the middle.
“Good girl. Now cum for me.”
The colors of the sky bleed darker with the sound of his words, the pretty pink turning brighter, stormier, bloodier.
I slam my lips against his filthy mouth, and the flick of his tongue is all it takes for my orgasm to come crashing down like sparking embers burning all through my veins.
He holds me there, his nails biting into the back of my neck while he kisses me with bruising strength.
His other hand strokes me slower between my thighs.
He eases me out of that orgasmic bliss while I cling to him with both hands like he’s the only thing grounding me to this world.
. . . he is grounding me to this world.
Because this isn’t real.
None of it is.
With a shuddering gasp, my lashes open slowly.
The sudden dimness of the bedroom is all around us.
Everything is dark and heavy. The magic he gave me no longer hues the world in magical colors.
The ocean is gone. And so is the sunlight.
And so is all of that freeing bliss. A thick quietness surrounds us now.
The slamming of my heart and the pulsing between my thighs is the only indication that anything happened at all.
The only thing that’s truly real is the way I’m straddling his lap, my nails sinking deep into the back of his neck.
As for Seven, he’s just holding me ever so lightly at a very platonic place on my hips.
The unbuttoned shirt hangs around my shoulders, my breasts pushing firmly against his smooth chest.
Confusion clouds my thoughts. I pull back ever so slightly.
None of that was real.
His watchful eyes search my face and the uneven breaths that fall from my lips. The peaks of my nipples graze his chest with every exhale, and it’s only then that I feel incredibly inappropriate.
“Oh my god.” I scramble out of his arms and clutch the shirt closed around myself. “I?—”
Does he know?
How exactly does his magic work?
Only my legs are touching his now when I scramble back and put as much space between myself and his incredibly full—incredibly distracting lips.
“How—”
The door slides open slowly, and both of us fling our attention to the man filling the doorframe.
Rorrick’s piercing gaze slides from his friend to me and then back again.
“Let’s go.” He nods, and then he’s striding down the hall away from us.
Seven’s hooded eyes hold mine as he gradually stands. The hard outline of his cock straining against his dark pants has me even more curious about the unreal moment we just shared.
The door’s left open, and I feel like the strangest captive that has ever been held hostage. Is it customary for your captors to give out free orgasms and sultry smiles and so much distracting energy that I might never want to see the human world ever fucking again?
His palm lingers on the doorknob, and his kind eyes find mine once again. “There’s water on the dresser for you.”
It’s a polite and formal offer. Not at all a tone that someone would use with a girl that just came against his hand...
My lips part, but I still can’t even catch my breath before he’s gone. The door clicks closed softly.
He leaves me with the trembling energy of an orgasm that never happened and more confusion than I’ve ever felt.