Chapter 11 #2
One tendril of darkness wraps around my wrists, not restraining but anchoring me as another traces patterns along my ribs, my breasts, everywhere he can't touch with his mouth. The sensation is overwhelming—silk and smoke and something darker that makes my blood sing with need.
A third shadow slithers lower, curling beneath my ass, lifting my hips toward his mouth while another flicks across my nipple, tugging with just enough pressure to make me whimper.
He moans into my pussy, the sound vibrating through me as his tongue pushes lower, circling my entrance before plunging inside.
"You taste like starlight," he growls against me, the vibration of his voice sending shockwaves through my nervous system. "Like everything I've been dying for these past five months."
This is wrong. This is impossible. But I can't bring myself to care when his tongue finds that perfect spot and circles with deliberate precision that speaks of intimate knowledge. He knows exactly how to touch me, exactly what drives me wild, and he uses that knowledge with devastating effect.
His tongue flicks faster now, alternating with slow, devastating licks and rapid suckling that makes my thighs tremble around his head.
One finger slides inside me, thick and unrelenting, curling upward until it hits that spot that makes me scream.
Then another joins it, scissoring me open as his mouth latches onto my clit again and drags me brutally toward the edge.
"Kaan, please," I gasp, my hips rising to meet his mouth as shadows continue their sensual torment.
"Please what?" he asks, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. His own are dark with desire, flames dancing in their depths. "Tell me what you want, hatun . Tell me what you need."
"I don't—I can't—" The words dissolve into a moan as his tongue finds me again, this time with a focused intensity that makes my vision blur.
"Come for me," he commands against my flesh, and my body obeys with embarrassing eagerness.
The orgasm tears through me with obliterating power, making me sob his name as I shatter completely. Golden light explodes from my skin, so bright it turns the dream landscape white for a moment before settling into a warm glow that makes the grass beneath us shimmer like precious metal.
I feel myself clench around his fingers, feel the wetness spill out of me, messy and uncontrollable. But he doesn’t flinch—he drinks it like it’s ambrosia, groaning like he’s starving.
But he doesn't stop, doesn't give me time to recover before his mouth and shadows are driving me toward another peak. If anything, my climax seems to encourage him, his ministrations becoming more focused, more determined.
His tongue flattens against my clit while his fingers thrust harder, faster, ruthless now as he chases my next release like a man possessed. Another shadow wraps around my throat—not tight, just a pressure, a reminder that I’m completely, utterly his.
"Again," he growls, his teeth grazing my inner thigh with just enough pressure to send sparks through my nervous system. "I want to feel you come apart again. I want to watch you glow with pleasure."
His shadows wrap more tightly around me now, one sliding between my breasts to tease my nipples while another traces lazy patterns along my spine. The sensation is maddening—too much and not enough all at once.
One coils between my legs, teasing the slick skin just behind his fingers, circling my other entrance. He doesn't press inside—just teases it, threatens it, and that’s enough to make my orgasm spiral closer, harder.
"I can't," I whimper, but even as I say it, I can feel another climax building deep in my core.
"You can," he says with absolute certainty. "You were made for this, made for me. Let go, Nesilhan. Let me see you fall apart."
Another finger joins the others, stretching me wider, filling me so completely it aches. His tongue never stops. He’s orchestrating me like a symphony of sin.
The bite that follows is sharp, possessive, marking me as surely as any brand. His teeth sink into the tender flesh of my inner thigh, and instead of pain, it sends me flying over the edge once more, my vision whiting out as pleasure consumes everything.
I explode for him again, body seizing around his fingers, sobbing as stars burst behind my eyelids and I drown in ecstasy so intense it’s almost unbearable.
This time, the light that erupts from me is blinding, a supernova of sensation that seems to tear through the fabric of the dream itself. I'm dimly aware of crying out, of my body convulsing with the force of release, of Kaan's satisfied growl against my skin.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to the bite mark he's left behind. "Absolutely beautiful. This is how you're supposed to look—wild and glowing and completely mine."
His fingers are still inside me as he kisses upward, trailing over my stomach, my breasts, finally my mouth, giving me back the taste of my own surrender.
I wake with a gasp, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of an orgasm that felt far too real to be just a dream. My clothes are soaked with sweat, my pulse racing like I've run for miles, and between my thighs?—
The bite mark.
Two perfect crescents on my inner thigh, red and raised and absolutely real. I stare at them in horror, my mind struggling to process what I'm seeing. Dreams don't leave marks. Dreams don't?—
But apparently, they do when the dreamer is a creature of shadow and power who operates by rules I don't understand.
I sit up slowly, my body still humming with residual pleasure that makes shame burn hot in my cheeks. How can I feel this way about something that was done to me without permission? How can my treacherous body miss the touch of a man who invaded my dreams like a common thief?
But even as the questions torment me, I can't deny the truth—it hadn't felt like a violation in the dream. It had felt like coming home.
Rage fills me, hot and fierce and utterly consuming.
How dare he? How dare he invade my dreams, touch me in my sleep, take advantage of my vulnerability?
The healing power in my hands sparks to life, responding to my fury, and for a moment, the cottage fills with golden light that makes the shadows flee.
I need to find him. I need to confront him about this violation, this impossible invasion of my most private thoughts.
But where would he be? In our last conversation by the river, he'd said he would stay close—close enough to hear me scream if anyone threatened me, close enough to protect what he claimed was his.