Chapter 13 #2
A growl rumbled in his chest, and then his lips were on mine again, harder this time, punishing.
His teeth nipped at my lower lip, drawing a sharp gasp from me before his tongue soothed the sting.
His hands were relentless, stripping the tattered remains of my nightgown away, leaving me naked beneath him.
The air was cool against my skin, but I burned.
I ached. I’d never wanted anything like this before never burned like this.
He pulled back just long enough for me to see him.
His chest was a landscape of muscle and faint scars, his skin olive-toned and smooth except for the dark trail of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his trousers.
I reached for him, my small hands trembling as I traced the lines of his abs, the ridges of his chest, the faint scar above his eyebrow.
He caught my wrist, his grip firm but not painful, and pressed my palm flat against his heart.
“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice rough. “That’s you. That’s what you do to me.”
I didn’t have time to answer. His mouth was on my neck, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin just below my ear.
I cried out, my back arching, my fingers tangling in his dark hair.
He bit me again, lower this time, at the junction of my shoulder and collarbone, his tongue soothing the mark even as his hands roamed lower, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples until I was writhing beneath him.
“Kai—” His name came out as a broken whisper, a plea. For what, I didn’t even know.
“Shh,” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot.
His mouth trailed lower, his lips wrapping around one tight nipple, his tongue flicking before he sucked hard.
I gasped, my fingers tightening in his hair, my hips lifting off the bed without my permission.
He chuckled darkly, the vibration sending a jolt straight to my core, and switched to the other breast, giving it the same treatment.
His free hand slid down my stomach, his fingers teasing the damp curls between my legs before slipping lower, finding me already wet, already aching.
“Fuck, Aria,” he groaned, his voice muffled against my skin. “You’re dripping.”
I whimpered, my face burning. I’d never been touched like this before, never been spoken to like this. His fingers circled my clit, slow and deliberate, before sliding lower, two of them pressing inside me. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body tightening around him.
“So tight,” he murmured, his lips brushing my collarbone. “So fucking perfect.”
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. His fingers curled inside me, finding a spot that made my vision white out, my hips jerking against his hand. He added a third finger, stretching me, and I moaned, the sound shameless, needy.
“Please,” I begged, not even knowing what I was asking for.
He knew. Oh, he knew.
His fingers slid free, and before I could protest, he flipped me onto my stomach, his hand pressing between my shoulder blades, keeping me down.
I heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, the zipper of his trousers, and then his weight was gone, just for a second—before his hands gripped my hips, yanking me onto my knees.
“Look at you,” he growled, his voice rough. “On your knees for me. Begging for me.”
I wasn’t begging. Not with words. But my body was, my hips rocking back, seeking something I didn’t even understand.
His hands slid over my ass, squeezing, spreading me open.
I felt his breath first, hot against my exposed flesh, and then his tongue—oh god—his tongue dragged up my slit, slow and deliberate, before circling my clit.
I screamed.
His chuckle was dark, satisfied. “That’s it. Scream for me.”
But then his mouth was on me again, his tongue fucking me, his lips sealing around my clit, sucking hard.
My hands fisted in the sheets, my body trembling, my moans turning into broken sobs.
He didn’t let up. Didn’t give me a chance to breathe.
His fingers joined his mouth, two of them sliding inside me, curling, while his tongue worked my clit in relentless circles.
“I’m going to make you come so hard you forget your own name,” he murmured against my flesh, his breath hot. “And then you’re going to do it again. And again. Until you remember who you belong to.”
I couldn’t—I couldn’t— His teeth grazed my clit, and I shattered.
My orgasm hit me like a wave, drowning me, my body convulsing, my cries muffled against the mattress. He didn’t stop. His tongue lapped at me, drawing out every last tremor, his fingers still moving inside me, prolonging it, making it worse. Making it better.
When I finally collapsed, boneless, he pulled back, his lips glistening with me. He flipped me onto my back, his dark eyes burning into mine as he loomed over me.
“My turn,” he growled.
I didn’t have the strength to argue.
He stripped the rest of his clothes away, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. My eyes widened. I’d never—I didn’t—
“Open,” he commanded, his voice rough.
I parted my lips, my heart hammering. He guided the head of his cock between them, his hand tangling in my hair, holding me still.
“Good girl,” he murmured as I took him deeper, my tongue swirling around the tip.
His taste was salt and musk, his skin velvet over steel.
I hollowed my cheeks, taking him as far as I could, my hands gripping his thighs for balance.
His groan was low, guttural, his hips rocking forward slightly, feeding me more of him.
“Fuck, Aria,” he rasped, his fingers tightening in my hair. “Your mouth is heaven.”
I moaned around him, the vibration making him hiss.
His free hand cupped my chin, his thumb brushing my cheek as I took him deeper, my lips stretching around his girth.
I could feel him pulse against my tongue, could taste the pre-cum leaking from the tip.
My pussy throbbed, empty and aching, my juices dripping down my thighs.
“Enough,” he growled suddenly, pulling back. I whimpered at the loss, but then his hands were on me again, flipping me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up. “I need to be inside you. Now.”
I didn’t have time to react. His cock pressed against my entrance, thick and relentless, and then he was pushing inside, stretching me, filling me in one long, brutal thrust. I screamed, my fingers clawing at the sheets, my body struggling to adjust to his size.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. He gave me a second—just one—to adjust before he pulled back and slammed into me again.
My cry was raw, animalistic, my body rocking forward with the force of his thrust. He didn’t hold back.
Didn’t care. His hips snapped against mine, his cock pounding into me, each thrust deeper than the last. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room, wet and obscene, mixing with my moans and his groans.
“Say it,” he demanded, his voice a dark growl. “Say you’re mine.”
I was his. I’d always been his.
“Yours,” I sobbed, my body tightening around him, my orgasm building again, relentless, inevitable.
“Again,” he snarled, his fingers digging into my flesh.
“Yours!” I screamed as I came, my body clenching around him, my juices coating his cock as he fucked me through it, his own release tearing from him with a groan.
“Aria—fuck—”
He spilled inside me, his cock pulsing, filling me with his cum, his body shuddering above mine. For a moment, there was only the sound of our ragged breathing, the damp stickiness of sweat and sex between us. His cum dripped out of me, running down my thighs, marking me.
Then his weight was on me, his chest pressing me into the mattress, his lips finding the shell of my ear.
“You’re not leaving,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “You’re staying.”
I should have argued. Should have told him I had a life, a future, things I needed to do. But his arms were around me, his body still buried inside mine, his breath warm against my skin. His cock twitched, still half-hard, and I felt another rush of wetness between my legs.
And I didn’t want to leave. I never wanted to leave.
His hands roamed my body, possessive, claiming, as his cock began to harden again. The night stretched before us, but for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of the dark.
I was afraid of the light. Afraid of what would happen when morning came.
But for now, there was only this. Only him and as his lips found mine again, his tongue invading, his hands pulling me closer, I knew one thing for certain:
I was his and he was mine.
His mouth was on mine before I could take another breath, his kiss slower this time, deeper.
His tongue tangled with mine, lazy and possessive, like he had all the time in the world.
Like he owned it. His hands slid over my body, mapping every curve, every dip, his fingers tracing the swell of my hips, the indent of my waist, the softness of my stomach.
I arched into his touch, my skin hypersensitive, every brush of his fingertips sending sparks through me.
“You’re still trembling,” he murmured against my lips, his voice a dark rumble. “Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head, my fingers tangling in his hair. “No.”
“Liar.” His lips curved against mine, but there was no humor in it. Only hunger. “You’re sore.”
I was. My thighs ached, my pussy throbbed, my lips were swollen from his kisses, my neck marked with his teeth. I’d never felt so used. So wanted.
“Good,” he growled, his hand sliding between my legs, his fingers finding me already wet again. “You should be.”
I gasped as he circled my clit, his touch gentle now, teasing. His cock, still slick with my juices and his cum, pressed against my thigh, thick and heavy. I reached for him, my small hand wrapping around his length, my thumb smudging the pre-cum beading at the tip.