Chapter 59
LIX.
DANTE & brYNN
Brynn
That was all it took for his mouth to find hers.
This wasn't anything like the restrained touches they'd shared in the days after the breakthrough, when every brush of skin had felt like testing a live flame. This was a claim. Primal and unyielding, all the wanting he'd been leashing finally unleashed.
She kissed him back with a desperation that should have embarrassed her. Weeks of tension, of longing, of fighting the pull between them while her anger burned and his secrets festered. All of it surging into this fierce collision of mouths and teeth and need.
His tongue swept against hers, tasting her, claiming her, and heat pooled between her thighs so fast it made her dizzy.
"Finally," she gasped against his lips, not meaning to say it aloud.
He swallowed the word whole. Made it his.
His shadows swirled around them both, wrapping possessively around her waist, sliding up her arms, cool silk touching every inch of exposed skin while his hands stayed braced against the wall on either side of her head.
The dual sensation, darkness touching her everywhere while he touched her nowhere, sent shivers racing down her spine.
One tendril traced along the neckline of her dress, dipping beneath the fabric to stroke the swell of her breast. Her breath caught.
"You're mine," he growled against her mouth, teeth grazing her lower lip hard enough to sting. "Say it."
"Make me."
The sound that rumbled through his chest was barely human. Predatory and satisfied and hungry all at once. It vibrated through her where their bodies pressed together, and she felt an answering clench low in her belly.
One hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to expose her throat. The other gripped her waist hard enough to bruise, dragging her body flush against his.
She could feel him through their clothes. Hard. Wanting. The thick ridge of his cock pressed against her stomach, and hells, she wanted to touch it.
The kiss turned consuming. Teeth and tongue and the dark, dangerous taste of him flooding her senses. She was drowning in it. Wanted to drown in it. Wanted to feel him everywhere.
"I've wanted this," he murmured against her throat, his mouth trailing fire down the column of her neck, "since the moment you talked back to me."
"Then stop talking," she managed, her voice embarrassingly breathless, "and take what you want."
His control cracked. She saw it happen. That iron restraint she'd been fighting against for weeks, finally giving way.
His shadows wrapped around her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until her legs wrapped around his waist. The movement pressed his cock directly against her core, and they both groaned at the contact.
Even through layers of fabric, she could feel him, hard and thick and straining toward her. Her hips rolled instinctively, grinding against him, and the friction made her moan.
"Dangerous words, thief," he warned, voice dropping to that low, rough tone that made her pulse pound. His hips rocked forward, pressing harder against her, and pleasure sparked through her nerve endings.
"Good thing I'm not afraid of danger, Reaper."
She sank her teeth into the spot where his neck met his shoulder, had been wanting to do that for longer than she'd ever admit, and his sharp intake of breath was deeply satisfying.
He pressed her harder against the wall, his mouth finding hers with renewed intensity. Her hands fumbled at his jacket, fingers clumsy with urgency, and he let her work it off his shoulders. Let her yank at his shirt until her palms pressed flat against his bare chest.
The sound he made was half growl, half prayer.
Her nails raked down his chest, leaving trails of fire. Her fingers found his nipple and pinched, and his hips jerked forward involuntarily, grinding against her heat.
"Your turn," he managed, and his shadows danced around her, finding the complicated laces at the back of her gown.
His realm's aesthetic wrapped around her body like he'd chosen it himself. And now the fabric was loosening, slipping, pooling at her waist until she was left in nothing but a thin chemise.
Through the sheer fabric, he could see everything. Her nipples were already hard and straining against the material. The flush spreading down her chest. The way her breath came too fast.
"Perfect," he breathed.
His shadows slid beneath the chemise before she could respond, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples with cool touches. She gasped, arching into the sensation.
"Your shadows," she managed, "they're—oh—"
"They know what I want." His eyes were dark, watching her face as his shadows circled her nipples, rolling them between incorporeal fingers. "They've wanted to touch you like this for weeks. I've had to hold them back."
She pulled him closer. "Don't hold back."
His mouth descended on her collarbone, trailing down to the edge of her chemise while his shadows continued their work. She was making sounds she couldn't control, little gasps and moans that seemed to drive him wilder.
"Dante." His name slipped from her lips like a prayer.
He paused. "Say it again."
"Dante."
He kissed her then, softer than before. A brief moment of tenderness that made her chest ache. Because she'd said his name like it meant something. Like he meant something.
Then he was carrying her toward the bed, shadows swirling around them both.
She expected him to lay her down gently.
Instead, he threw her onto the mattress.
She landed with a bounce, skirts tangled around her thighs, the silk sheets a shock against her flushed skin. Before she could catch her breath, he was on her.
"Mine," he growled, hands already tearing at the remnants of her dress.
The expensive fabric ripped under his fingers. Her hips jerked toward him.
"Prove it."
Her hands raked down his chest, desperate for more of him. But shadows wrapped around her wrists, yanking them above her head and pinning them to the mattress.
She was trapped. Held down. Completely at his mercy.
Her cunt clenched.
His mouth descended on her throat, teeth grazing hard enough to mark. "You like this," he said against her skin. "Being held down. Helpless."
"I don't—"
One shadow slid up her inner thigh, and her protest died in a moan.
"Liar." His voice was filled with dark satisfaction. "Your body tells me the truth even when your mouth won't. I can smell how wet you are."
Oh hells. Her face flamed, but her hips tilted toward that teasing touch, seeking more contact.
"All that defiance, all that fighting," he continued, his mouth trailing down to her collarbone. "You were just waiting for someone strong enough to make you yield."
"I don't yield to anyone."
"No?" His shadow pressed directly against her core, rubbing through her soaked underwear, and she couldn't stop the sound that escaped her. "Then why are you dripping?"
Damn him. "Dante—"
"That's not an answer."
He tore the chemise away, leaving her bare except for her stockings and the ruined scrap of fabric between her legs. His eyes raked over her, hungry and possessive.
"Look at you. Spread out on my bed like an offering."
She should have felt vulnerable. Exposed. Instead, the way he was looking at her, like she was the most desirable thing he'd ever seen, made her feel powerful.
"Are you going to look all night, or are you going to do something?"
His smile was predatory. "Demanding little thief."
Then his mouth found her breast, and she stopped thinking.
Dante
She was going to be the ruin of him.
The way she looked right now: flushed and wanting beneath him, hair spread across his dark sheets, her body arching toward his mouth. It was taking every shred of his control not just to take.
His teeth caught her nipple, tugging with just enough pressure to ride the edge between pleasure and pain. She cried out, spine curving off the bed, and the sound went straight to his cock.
More. He needed more of those sounds.
He sucked her nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling, while his shadow continued to rub maddening circles against her cunt through her underwear. The fabric was soaked through. He could feel her heat even through the material.
"Dante, please—"
"Please what?" He switched to her other breast, biting down just hard enough to make her gasp. "Tell me what you want, thief. Use your words."
"I want—" She broke off in a moan as his shadow pressed harder. "I want your mouth."
"You have my mouth."
"Lower."
His cock throbbed at the demand. His demanding little thief was finally asking for what she needed.
He kissed his way down her body, taking his time. Mouth tracing over her ribs, her stomach, the jut of her hipbone. His shadows kept her wrists pinned while new ones spread her thighs wide, holding her open for him.
He tore away her underwear and just looked at her.
Her cunt was slick and swollen, glistening in the firelight. Pink and perfect and his. He'd thought about this more times than he'd ever admit. Wondered what she'd taste like, what sounds she'd make, whether she'd be loud or quiet when she came.
"Beautiful," he murmured, and his breath against her sensitive flesh made her whimper. "Do you have any idea how long I've thought about this? Tasting you?"
"Dante, please, I need—"
"I know what you need."
His tongue traced a slow line up her slit, and she nearly came off the bed.
She tasted like heaven.
Sweet and musky and his, and he couldn't get enough. His tongue explored every fold, every dip, learning what made her breath stutter and what made her moan and what made her thighs tremble around his head.
"Oh hells—” Her hips bucked, seeking more contact. "Dante, please—"
He pinned her hips with one hand, keeping her still while his tongue circled her clit. The little bud was swollen and sensitive, and when he sucked it into his mouth, she screamed.
That’s it. He wanted to hear her.