54. Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Four
Emma
My back hits the door as Dacre hoists up the end of my dress. It’s way too heavy and the back too complicated to shed completely. A few melted candles tumble in our wake.
Finally, this feels like all of him he was holding back before. The urge to be close to him is unbearable as I peel his shirt off and my hands fumble with his belt. Skin on skin. I want his saliva in my mouth. His hands in my hair. Somewhere in the shuffle, a lump builds in my throat.
His lips caress the top of my forehead, and he slows down. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m . . . just . . . I missed you.”
Even if only for a few days, I had to consider that maybe this was over, and I’m still processing that this isn’t an end, but a new beginning.
He smiles that perfect, handsome smile. “I missed you, too.”
I lead with my lips, then my tongue. I’ve only scratched the surface of who Dacre is, of everything he’s made of and lived through. But I want him to know me, deep in my soul. I want to give. To sustain him. To give him parts of myself I never thought I’d give and would keep to myself.
He senses my shift. Before I can bite his lip, his fingers dig into my cheeks to taste my lips again.
“Tell me”—he groans when I pull away—“how exactly do you want me to use my mouth?” His kisses pepper my cheek with whispers of his tongue. “I know you’ve got thoughts.”
“Bite me,” I breathe.
His canine teeth glint in the candlelight, and then I’m overwhelmed by the pressure that blends into pleasure at the first dig of his teeth in my neck.
Oh I missed this. But this time it’s even better. I’m giving him something I’ve never given to anyone else and never will again. My blood is reserved for only one person. Every lap of his tongue sends pleasure down my core.
“More.” I moan.
“There are lots of vampires waiting around, Em,” he says it like a protest and then rips the sleeve of my dress so he can access my chest.
I don’t need to ask. He takes my breast into his mouth and bites down.
I’m flushed with heat when his tongue glides over my nipple. It’s impossible to stifle the moan. His gaze darkens as I tug at his hair, signaling more. He bites me again. Then again. I think he worries he’ll hurt me because he runs his tongue over each mark before kissing each softly.
Starving and gasping for breath, I nearly levitate when I feel his tongue move down my stomach and his fingers caress between my thighs. He licks my hip bone before sinking his teeth in again. I let him take me. Consume me.
He releases himself from his boxers and presses into me as my back hits the door. I’m so wet, and my body is pliable in his grasp.
“I think there’s still someone outside,” I gasp.
“I don’t care.” He thrusts into me, and our eyes meet in the rhythm.
The door shakes as a moan slips from my lungs. The pressure pulsing in my head leaves holes in my vision as I bite into his shoulder.
I want to taste him, like he gets to taste me.
“Oh, fuck,” he moans, guiding me and urging me to keep going.
I can barely keep up with his movements. Every thrust jostles the door behind me. I leave another bite on his arm, this time breaking the skin. A metallic taste hits my tongue, and I moan as my tongue moves over the wound on his arm.
It’s already healed by the time he guides my chin back to his. I think this is my favorite. The way his tongue explores my mouth while he stays buried deep inside me.
“As much as I want to continue, we should be escaping.” He thrusts deeper. “Can you listen for once and come on my cock for me?”
“Oh, Dacre,” I breathe.
Our bodies blend into one until brain-melting pleasure slices through my abdomen.
I knew it would be fast, but the slick between my legs ensures that it’s over in seconds.
He adjusts to me, slowing and pressing closer.
My orgasm grows sweeter when our lips meet again, and his pleasure bursts inside me.
This is what I’ve seen in the movies, and now I get it. He holds me still, and I rest in his arms, a panting mess.
The room comes back into view, and now I feel the sore ache in my forearms and legs where I latched on to him. We need to get out of here, but I sit a moment longer in the safety of his smell.
I’ve found my person. My glue. The rain to my fire.
“Where will we go?” I ask, still not wanting to separate.
“I know a place.”