Chapter 11 Charlie
CHARLIE
The door to Malrik's private suite closed behind us with a soft click that somehow felt momentous. As if the final threshold had been crossed.
Maybe it had.
Moonlight streamed through tall windows, casting the room in silvery illumination that complemented the faint crimson glow emanating from my skin. The borrowed power. No, my power now. Hummed beneath the surface, no longer fighting to escape but eager to connect with its source.
With him.
Malrik moved with unhurried grace, lighting a few candles with casual gestures that sent flames dancing to life. The warm light cast his features in dramatic relief—the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips still bearing the imprint of our kiss on the terrace.
"Having second thoughts?" he asked, studying my face as I stood just inside the doorway.
"No," I said with a certainty that surprised me. "Just... processing. This isn't exactly what I expected when I agreed to coordinate your Gala."
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Event planning with unexpected benefits?"
"Something like that." I stepped further into the room, drawn to him as if by gravity.
The suite was exactly what I might have expected from him.
Elegant without being ostentatious, with touches of antiquity that hinted at centuries of collection rather than decorative affectation.
Ancient books lined one wall, a massive bed dominated another, and a balcony beyond glass doors revealed a view of the moonlit gardens below.
"Your power," he said, moving closer. "It's fully visible now."
I glanced down at my arms, where crimson lines traced along my veins, pulsing slightly with each heartbeat. "It's not even trying to hide anymore."
"It doesn't need to. Not here. Not with me." He reached out, fingers hovering just above my skin. "May I?"
I nodded, breath catching as his fingers traced the patterns on my arm. The contact sent a surge of warmth through me, the power recognizing its counterpart and responding with eager intensity.
"Does it feel different?" I asked. "The power, when you touch me?"
"Like nothing I've ever experienced," he admitted, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent a shiver through me. "It's like touching a part of myself that's been transformed into something new. Familiar yet utterly unique."
His fingers continued their path up my arm, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. The power surged beneath his touch, rising to meet him, eager for connection.
"And for you?" he asked. "How does it feel?"
"Like finding something I never knew was missing," I said honestly.
The confession hung in the air between us, more intimate than any physical touch. My professional boundaries, my careful compartmentalization, my insistence that this was all just an unfortunate accident. All of it had crumbled under the weight of this connection we shared.
Malrik moved closer, bringing his hand up to cup my face. "Charlie Davenport," he said, my name somehow sounding like an invocation on his lips. "The most fascinating mortal I've ever encountered."
"Is that a compliment coming from someone who's most likely met every notable historical figure since the beginning of time?" I managed, though my voice was unsteady.
"The highest," he assured me, his thumb brushing across my cheek.
Then his lips were on mine again, and any clever response I might have formed dissolved into sensation. This kiss wasn't like the one on the terrace—that had been impulsive, charged with the surprise of finally giving in. This was deliberate. Thorough.
"Charlie," he said, his voice low and steady, "I haven’t been able to focus on anything but you since the moment my power recognized something in you—even before I understood what it was."
The raw honesty in his tone stripped away the last of my hesitation.
I wanted him.
"Malrik..." I whispered.
He trailed his lips down my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.
I gasped, arching into him as his hands roamed my back, finding the zipper of my dress.
With agonizing slowness, he pulled it down.
The fabric loosened, and cool air kissed my skin as he pushed the dress from my shoulders, letting it pool at my feet in a whisper of silk.
"Beautiful," he growled, his eyes drinking me in. I stood there in nothing but my lace underwear and heels, feeling exposed yet empowered. The patterns on my skin glowed brighter, as if proud to be on display. His gaze was molten, filled with desire.
"Charlie," he said, his voice rough with need. He scooped me up effortlessly, carrying me to the massive bed. The sheets were cool against my heated skin as he laid me down, following me with his body. His weight pressed me into the mattress, a delicious pressure that made me moan softly.
He kissed me again, deeper this time, while his hands explored.
One slid down my side, over my hip, to the edge of my panties.
He teased the lace, his fingers dipping just beneath the fabric, brushing against the sensitive skin there.
I bucked against him, seeking more, but he held back, drawing out the torment.
"Patience," he whispered against my lips. "I want to savor every moment."
I was on the edge and wanted every part of him.
The unfamiliar sensation inside me was building, demanding release, and I could feel it echoing in him.
I pulled him closer and reached for the hard length of him still confined in his pants.
He groaned, the sound vibrating through me, and finally, he gave in a little, his hand slipping fully beneath the lace to cup me.
Oh god, the heat of his touch there was exquisite. His fingers parted my folds, finding me already slick with arousal. He circled my clit with expert precision, drawing a cry from my lips.
"You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice like velvet. "So ready."
"Yes," I gasped, my hips moving against his hand. He slid one finger inside me, then two, curling them just right to hit that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. I clutched at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin, leaving marks that healed almost instantly.
He watched my face as he worked me, his eyes glowing with fire. "That's it, Charlie. Come for me.”
The orgasm built quickly, a tidal wave crashing over me. I cried out his name as I came, my body clenching around his fingers, waves of pleasure rippling through me. The light around us pulsed in time with my release, bathing the room in red hues.
He undressed, methodically, shedding every trace of fabric, revealing a body carved from marble—muscled chest dusted with a red glow, abs that tapered to a V, and his cock, hard and impressive, jutting proudly as he freed it.
It was larger than I ever expected, veined with faint crimson lines that pulsed like the ones on my skin.
I sat up, reaching for him, but he gently pushed me back down. "I want to taste you first."
He knelt between my legs, spreading them wide.
His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open as he lowered his mouth to me.
His tongue—now elongated slightly, tracing my inner thighs before delving into my core.
He lapped at me slowly, methodically. His tongue pushed inside, twisting and curling in ways no human ever could, hitting spots that made stars explode behind my eyes.
When he added his fingers, thrusting in time with his tongue, I buckled against the pressure, It was intimate, maddening, perfect. He savored every taste, every moan, drawing out my pleasure. Until I was on the edge.
“Please.” I begged.
"Not yet," he murmured, pulling back just as I teetered. His body covered mine, skin to skin, and I felt the full weight of him pressing against me. He kissed me again, letting me taste myself on his lips, while his cock nudged at my entrance, teasing without entering.
When he finally pushed in, it was inch by torturous inch, stretching me deliciously.
He was huge, filling me completely, but his demonic control allowed him to adjust—shaping himself to fit perfectly, hitting every sensitive spot.
"Feel me," he growled, his hips rocking slowly, building a rhythm that was unhurried yet relentless.
I did—God, I did. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy through me, our energies merging. I could feel his thoughts brushing mine, his ancient desires, his need for me.
"Faster," I urged, my nails raking down his back. He obliged, his pace quickening, hips snapping against mine. I was lost in the pleasure.
He shifted angles slightly, hitting deeper, and I cried out. "Malrik... oh god..."
"Let go," he commanded, his voice strained.
I did. The power exploded between us, a cascade of sensation that blurred the lines between our bodies. I felt his pleasure as acutely as my own—the tight heat of me around him, the building pressure in his core. It was overwhelming, intoxicating.
Our movements became frantic, chasing that peak together. When it came, it was cataclysmic. I screamed as the orgasm ripped through me, my body clenching around him. He followed moments later, groaning my name as he spilled inside me, the power flaring so bright it blinded me temporarily.
We collapsed together, breathing ragged, the light slowly fading to a gentle glow. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, his lips brushing my temple. "That was... extraordinary," he murmured, his voice still husky from our exertions.