29. Bella with Darius #3
His hands slide up my sides, leaving trails of cool fire across my heated skin. They find my breasts, cupping the weight of them, and his thumbs brush across my nipples. I gasp and arch into his touch, my rhythm faltering for a moment before I find it again.
"That's it," he murmurs, and I can hear the strain in his voice. The control fraying. "Take what you need."
And I do.
I ride him. There's no hesitation now, no uncertainty. I move with a fluidity I didn't know I possessed, rising and falling, grinding my clit against him on each downstroke. The pleasure builds in waves, each crest higher than the last, and I chase it with single-minded determination.
This is power. This is what it feels like to take instead of wait, to demand instead of accept. Every stroke, every roll of my hips, every clench of me around his cock—it's mine. I'm claiming him as thoroughly as he claimed me, and the realization makes me dizzy.
Darius meets my movements, his hips rising to meet mine, but he lets me set the pace.
His hands roam my body—tracing my spine, gripping my waist, tangling in my hair—and everywhere he touches leaves a mark of cold that burns hotter than flame.
His eyes never leave my face, watching every flicker of pleasure, every gasp and moan that escapes my lips.
"You're magnificent," he breathes, and the words hit me like a physical touch. "Look at what you do to me."
I don't know what he sees, but I feel transformed.
The pressure builds. My thighs burn with the effort, but I don't stop. I can't. The pleasure is too intense, too consuming, and I'm so close—I can feel it gathering at the base of my spine, coiling tighter with every thrust. So exquisite, so deeply seductive.
Darius's hands find my hips again, and this time he doesn't just hold on. He guides me, changes the angle just slightly, and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside me with every stroke. I cry out, the sound echoing off the ornate walls of the room, and my rhythm stutters.
"Let go," he says, and his voice is a command and a promise. "Let go, Bella."
I shatter.
The orgasm crashes through me like a wave against the cliffs, and I throw my head back and make a sound I don’t recognize.
I clamp down around him in rhythmic pulses, and I'm dimly aware of him groaning beneath me, his fingers tightening on my hips.
But I'm lost in the sensation—drowning in it—every nerve ending alight with pleasure so intense it’s unbelievable.
When I come down, I'm trembling. My arms shake where they support me against his chest, and I collapse forward, my forehead resting against his shoulder.
But Darius isn't done.
Before I can catch my breath, he's moving. He sits up, his arms wrapping around me, and suddenly I'm facing him in his lap with my legs wrapped around his waist. The new angle drives him impossibly deeper, and I whimper against his throat.
"More," he says again, and this time the word is a growl vibrating through his chest and into mine. "I need more of you."
I arch into him, my fingers lost in his dark hair, holding him against me as he sucks at my throat.
He lifts me—actually lifts me, his supernatural strength making my weight meaningless—and drops me back onto his cock. The impact takes my breath away as my pussy craves more, and I dig my nails into his shoulders as he does it again. And again. Giving me exactly what I didn't know I needed.
"Look at me," he commands, and I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze. "I want to see you. I want to watch you when you come again."
I'm already shattering into a thousand pieces that somehow keep reforming just to break again. He's relentless, insatiable, a creature of hunger who has found something he cannot stop feasting on—and that something is me. And I want it more than he does. I want to feast on this ecstasy with him.
His hand slides between us, his thumb finding my clit. The pleasure is so intense, layering on top of the aftershocks still rippling through me. But my body responds anyway, rising to meet his thrusts, chasing the next peak even though I haven't recovered from the last one.
"Come for me again, my little Bella," he says, and his voice is silk and steel. "Feel the pleasure take over your body."
The orgasm rips through me without warning, and then he's following me over the edge. I feel him pulse inside me, filling me with his release, and he buries his face in my neck and breathes my name like a prayer.
We stay like that for a long moment, me in his lap, facing each other, holding each other close. The fire has burned lower and the ocean outside sounds like a lullaby.
When he finally lifts his head, there's something different in his eyes. Something beyond hunger, beyond satisfaction. Something that looks almost like wonder.
"Bella," he says, and my name in his mouth sounds like a revelation.
I reach up and touch his face. My fingers trace the sharp line of his jaw, the shadow of stubble, the cool skin that somehow feels more real than anything I've ever touched. He turns into my palm, pressing a kiss to the center of it, and I feel the gesture somewhere deep in my chest.
"I've never—" I start, then stop. The words are too big, too fragile. I've never felt like this. I've never let myself go like this. I've never known my body could hold this much pleasure, this much need, this much power.
But Darius seems to understand.
"I know," he murmurs. "I know, my dear."
We lay back, and I rest my head on his chest. The Persian rug is stained with sweat and other things, but I can't bring myself to care. His fingers trace slow patterns on my shoulder, and I watch the firelight dance across the ceiling.
"You’re insatiable," I murmur, and I can hear the smile in my own voice.
His chest vibrates with a low laugh. "You say that like it's a complaint."
"Definitely not a complaint." I tilt my head to look at him. "Is it a vampire thing, or a you thing?"
His eyes meet mine, and there's a glint of something almost playful in their depths. "Both, I suspect."
I hum in acknowledgment and let my eyes drift closed. My body aches in a good way, sore and sated and thoroughly used. But beneath the pleasant exhaustion, I can still feel the embers of desire. Still feel the pull of him, the hunger that doesn't quite fade.
"Rest," he says softly. "For now."
I hear the promise in those words.
And the terrifying, exhilarating truth is that I want it. This, him. I want to drown in him, to let him consume me, to discover exactly how much pleasure I can feel and share.
I press closer to him, feeling the impossible coolness of his skin against my warmth. His arms tighten around me, and I let myself drift, cradled in the embrace of a creature who has lived for centuries and who looks at me like I'm the only thing in all that time that has ever mattered.
You made your way back to me.
I made my way back to him. And I'm not sure I ever want to leave.