Chapter 59 #2
His shadows held her thighs wide, preventing her from closing them, from escaping the relentless assault of his mouth. He could feel her building toward orgasm. The way her breathing turned ragged, the way her hands fought against the restraints.
He pulled back.
"No!" She actually sobbed with frustration. "Dante, don't you dare—"
"Tell me who you belong to."
"I'm going to kill you—"
He pressed his tongue flat against her clit and gave one long, slow lick. Then stopped again.
"Who do you belong to, thief?"
"You, damn it! I'm yours, I'm yours, now please—"
He rewarded her with two fingers sliding inside her cunt while his mouth returned to her clit with renewed intensity. She was tight—so fucking tight—and hot and drenched, her walls clenching around his fingers like she was trying to pull him deeper.
"That's it," he murmured against her flesh, working his fingers in and out. "Good girl. Take what you need."
The endearment made her clench harder. He filed that away for later. Many, many uses later.
He curled his fingers, finding that spot inside her that made her back arch, and sucked hard on her clit. She shattered.
Her orgasm crashed through her, her whole body shaking, her cunt spasming around his fingers while she screamed his name. He kept his mouth on her through every pulse, drawing it out, wringing every last shudder of pleasure from her body.
Only when she went limp did he finally pull back, releasing her wrists from their bindings. She reached for him immediately, hands fumbling for his waistband with urgent need.
"Need to touch you," she breathed. "Need—"
He let her.
Her hands were shaking, her whole body still trembling with aftershocks, but she worked his pants open and wrapped her fingers around his cock.
Hells. He was so hard it hurt. Her grip was so warm and eager, stroking him with clumsy urgency.
His head fell back, a groan tearing from his throat.
"That's it," she breathed, echoing his earlier words. "Good Reaper. Take what you need."
His eyes snapped to hers, blazing. "Careful, thief. That mouth is going to get you in trouble."
"Promises, promises."
She stroked him again, twisting her wrist at the head, and he nearly lost control. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, and she used it to slick her movements, her thumb rubbing over the sensitive head until his hips jerked involuntarily.
She pushed him onto his back, and he let her, surrendering control for the moment. His cock jutted up between them, flushed dark with need, and she wrapped both hands around him just to watch his face.
"Brynn—" Her actual name, rough with desperation. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to—"
"Going to what?" She stroked him faster, harder. "Come for me? I want to see it. Want to feel you lose control."
"Not yet." He grabbed her hips and flipped them, pinning her beneath him again, breathing hard. "Not until I'm inside you."
The words made her pupils dilate. She was still slick from her orgasm, her thighs wet with it, and when his length slid against her folds, they both groaned.
They moved together, urgency mounting. He dragged through her arousal, the head catching against her entrance with every roll of their hips. She was grinding against him shamelessly, coating him with her slickness.
"Please," she breathed. "Dante, I need—I need you inside me—"
"I know, thief. I know."
She pushed against his shoulders, and he let her flip them again, let her straddle him. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, and she started to sink down—
Every instinct screamed at him to let her. To thrust up into that tight heat and claim her completely.
Instead, his hands caught her waist.
Brynn
"Not yet."
She stared at him in disbelief. "What?"
His jaw was clenched, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. She could feel him trembling beneath her. Could feel his cock twitching against her entrance, straining to be inside her.
And he'd stopped.
"Not when we're still angry," he managed, his voice wrecked. "Still fighting."
"I don't care about fighting right now—"
"I do." He cupped her face in his hands, making her look at him.
His eyes were dark with want, but underneath was tenderness.
It made her chest ache. "When I take you completely, it won't be out of jealousy or anger.
It will be because you're mine, and I'm yours, and we'll both choose it with clear heads. "
She stared at him, chest heaving, her body screaming at her to ignore him and sink down anyway.
But his thumbs were stroking her cheekbones. And his eyes were so earnest, so vulnerable beneath the hunger.
"You're ridiculous," she whispered, but her voice came out soft instead of angry.
"Probably." He pressed a kiss to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. "But you deserve more than a claim made in anger for our first time together.”
The wall she'd built since walking out of his chambers cracked. Then crumbled.
He pulled her down against his chest, both of them still breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. She let him arrange her against him, let herself be held even with everything still hanging between them.
His cock was still hard against her thigh. She knew he had to be aching. But he just held her, one hand stroking slowly up and down her spine.
"I'm still furious with you," she murmured against his shoulder.
His lips twitched. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
“You made a scene at the gathering. Humiliated me in front of everyone."
“You were trying to make me jealous.” His voice was dry. "It worked.”
She narrowed her eyes and smacked his shoulder. “You’re not supposed to admit that.”
“Would you prefer I lie?”
She huffed a breath that was almost a laugh.
"This doesn't fix everything," she said.
"No." He pressed his lips to her hair. "But it's a start."
She should pull away. Retreat to her own chambers and process everything that had just happened. Rebuild the walls he'd demolished with his mouth and his shadows and his infuriating restraint.
Instead, she burrowed closer against him.
His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear. His shadows curled around them both like a blanket, cool and possessive and oddly comforting. The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting light across the ceiling.
She was still aroused. Her body was still humming with unsatisfied need, but underneath it was something that felt like hope.
No one had ever wanted her to mean something before. She'd been a thief to use, a tribute to sacrifice, a bloodline to exploit. But Dante... Dante wanted to wait until they chose each other. Until it was real.
"Dante?" she murmured.
"Hmm?"
"When we do this properly..." She traced idle patterns on his chest, feeling his muscles twitch beneath her fingers. "I want all of it. The shadows, the control, everything. I want to know what it's like when you don't hold back."
His whole body went taut beneath her. When he spoke, his voice was rough. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Then show me." She lifted her head to meet his eyes. "Show me what it's like to be claimed by a Death Lord."
The look in his eyes made her shiver. Hungry and possessive and full of promise.
"Careful what you wish for, thief," he murmured. "I have centuries of restraint to unleash."
"I'm counting on it."
His laugh was low and warm, and his arms tightened around her.