Chapter 48 #3
He stills for a moment, his amber eyes locking onto mine.
His gaze lingers there, intense and searching, like he’s memorizing every flicker of emotion crossing my face.
The world narrows to just us, the cool stone at my back, the heat of him everywhere else.
He doesn’t move, not yet, just watches me with that quiet fire in his eyes, his thumbs tracing slow circles over my skin, my thighs.
“Look at you, taking me so beautifully,” he murmurs, voice rough and low, sending a shiver racing through me.
“You’re a vision, Esme, all flushed and gorgeous, like you were made for this.
.. for me.” His gaze drops to where we’re joined, watching himself sink slowly deeper.
“Tell me how it feels, love. I want to hear you say it.”
I bite my lip, a whimper escaping as he eases in another fraction, the intensity spiking with a sharp, sweet pain.
“It feels... like fire,” I whisper, anchoring myself against him as the fullness borders on overwhelming. “Like you’re… remaking me, from the inside out. Don’t stop. Please.”
“Remaking you, hmm?” he murmurs, his voice husky against my ear, one hand sliding up my thigh to hook under my knee, spreading me wider against the wall.
His fingers dig in teasingly, tracing lazy circles on my skin that send sparks racing straight to my core, while he holds back from thrusting fully, keeping me pinned and aching for more.
“Careful what you wish for, love. I could do this all night—inch by torturous inch—until you’re begging for mercy.
Or is that the plan? To see how much of me you can handle before you shatter? ”
The tease in his tone makes my breath hitch even as I clench around him, my body betraying how much I love this game.
He nips at my earlobe, his free hand roaming up to cup my breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak in feather-light strokes that have me arching into his touch, desperate for firmer pressure he deliberately withholds.
“You’re so responsive,” he continues, his lips curving into a smile I can feel against my skin as he pulls back just a fraction, denying me the depth I crave.
“Look at you, trembling already. Tell me, Esme—does it feel good, being at my mercy like this? Or should I slow down even more, make you earn every bit?”
I whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders as I try to pull him closer, deeper, but he holds back, his hips rocking with excruciating slowness, each shallow thrust a gentle invasion that stretches me further, the burn intensifying with every careful move he makes.
The pain builds like a slow-rising flame, sharp and unrelenting, coiling tighter in my core as my body fights to accommodate him, but gods, it’s laced with a pleasure so deep it borders on agony, making me gasp and arch against the wall.
He murmurs soft encouragements against my skin, his lips brushing my collarbone, my throat, as he eases in and withdraws just enough to tease the limit, never rushing, his control a deliberate torment that has me trembling, sweat slicking between us.
“Easy, love,” he whispers, one hand steadying my hip while the other traces soothing patterns along my side, but it does nothing to dull the mounting pressure, the way each gentle push sends fresh waves of intensity crashing over me, pain blooming into something almost euphoric.
I feel every ridge of him, every slow glide stretching me impossibly wider, my muscles clenching instinctively around the intrusion, which only heightens the ache, drawing a whimper from my lips that he swallows with a kiss.
His fire magic pulses softly now, a warm glow seeping into my skin to ease the worst of it, but it can’t erase the building sting, the raw vulnerability of being so utterly filled, so exposed.
He shifts his angle slightly, pressing deeper with a tenderness that contrasts the fire in his eyes, and the pain explodes to a peak.
“Dayn—wait,” I gasp, my voice breaking as the intensity crests into something too sharp, too overwhelming, every nerve screaming at the edge of pleasure and pain.
My hands press against his chest, not pushing him away but needing a moment, just a breath to steady myself. “It’s... It’s too much. Too intense.”
He stills immediately, his eyes searching mine, concern flickering through the heat.
Slowly, carefully, he eases out of me, the retreat a strange mix of relief and aching emptiness that leaves me trembling.
His strong arms wrap around my waist, lifting me from the wall and setting me gently on my feet, though my legs feel like they’ve forgotten how to work.
I grip his arm for support, my fingers digging in as I steady myself, breath coming in shaky bursts.
“Defeated already?” he murmurs, a teasing lilt in his voice as he brushes a damp strand of hair from my face, his smirk returning even as his touch stays gentle.
I manage a breathless laugh, leaning into him despite the lingering ache between my thighs. “Oh, please. This is just a breather.”
But as the words leave my mouth, a sharp twinge pulls low in my belly, and I glance down, freezing at the sight of a thin streak of blood trailing down my inner thigh.
My breath catches. Shit, I knew it hurt, but seeing it makes my cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and something much rawer, more vulnerable.
Dayn notices at the same instant, and his voice loses all trace of teasing as he scoops me up, carries me to the bed—one arm under my knees, the other cradling my back—and lays me down.
His arms are steady around me, but I catch the flicker of concern in his eyes as he grabs a pillow to prop under my hips, making sure I’m comfortable.
“Stay here,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead before disappearing into the bathroom.
The sound of running water follows, and moments later, he’s back with a warm, damp cloth in hand, his expression tender but focused.
He kneels between my legs, his touch gentle as he parts my thighs, the cloth gliding over my skin.
The warmth soothes the lingering ache, cleaning away the evidence of my inexperience, and I can’t help the flush that creeps up my neck at how intimate this feels—him tending to me like this, no rush, no judgment, just quiet care.
“You’re right,” he says finally, eyes finding mine again. “Just a breather. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Before I can answer that, his lips meet mine, unhurried, soft, and then his arms are sliding beneath me, gathering me up and settling us both onto the bed, his body molding to mine.
My head finds the hollow beneath his chin, legs tangling with his, and I breathe him in: warmth and smoke and something steadier than either.
I can’t remember the last time anywhere felt like this.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs into my hair, his hand slowly tracing along my spine. “All of it.”
I tilt my head to look up at him. “I know,” I say quietly. “I meant it too.”
And as he leans in to claim my lips again, I try to keep thoughts of everything else away—the world waiting outside, the web of lies and uncertainties still hanging over us.
But a small, stubborn part of me can’t help but hope that we have what it takes to stay thaevar, in the tongue of those ancient dragon spirits.
Together. That the lies won’t swallow up the stars.