Chapter 11 #3
I carefully place gauze over the worst of the welts and tape it in place. His skin is warm beneath my fingers. Smooth except for the raised edges of his injuries.
I trace the line of one welt with my fingertip, ever so lightly, and I feel him shudder.
“Violet.” My name is both a warning and a plea.
I pull my hand back but don’t move away. Can’t.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“For this. For you getting hurt because of me. For everything.” My voice breaks. “For being cruel. For pushing you away. For not seeing everything you’ve been doing for me.”
Silence stretches between us.
Finally, Darius turns slowly on the couch to face me. His dark eyes bore into mine, and I see everything in them. The pain. The frustration. The hunger he’s been fighting.
The same hunger that burns through my veins.
“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs. “Not for any of it.”
My throat is too tight to speak.
We sit there on his couch, inches apart, the air between us crackling with tension. His eyes drop to my mouth and linger there. My heart hammers against my ribs.
“Darius,” I breathe.
His hand comes up to cup my face. His thumb traces my bottom lip, and I gasp at the sensation.
“Tell me to stop,” he says roughly. “Tell me to let you go.”
I should. I know I should.
But instead, I lean forward. And the moment our lips touch, there’s an explosion inside me.
Darius makes a sound, low and ravenous, and his control shatters completely. His hands grip my waist, and he pushes me back until I’m lying on the couch beneath him.
He hovers over me, his body caging mine, and kisses me with such urgency, I can’t breathe. His mouth moves against mine with wild hunger, and I open for him immediately. When his tongue slides against mine, heat floods through me so intensely that I gasp into his mouth.
My hands grab his damp hair, pulling him closer. Closer. Not close enough.
He makes another sound, this one almost pained, and deepens the kiss. His hand slides up my side, fingers spreading across my ribs. Everywhere he touches me, it tingles.
I arch against him, my body knowing what it wants even if my mind can’t process it.
His mouth leaves mine to find that spot where my neck meets my shoulder. He sucks it hard, and I cry out his name.
Darius pulls me up and whips my shirt off over my head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Then he looks at me, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and gold.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes.
Before I can respond, his mouth is on my neck again. Kissing. Sucking. His teeth graze my skin, and I gasp, my head falling to the couch again.
My hands roam over his shoulders and his back, careful to avoid the bandaged wounds. His skin is hot beneath my palms, muscles flexing as he moves over me.
He trails kisses down my collarbone, between my breasts, and I’m making noises I’ve never made before. Small whimpers. Moans. I say his name over and over like a prayer.
Neither of us speaks beyond that. There’s something primal driving us, something that demands more.
His hand slides down my stomach to the waistband of my jeans. He undoes the button, and my lips quiver when I feel his hand go inside. Nobody has ever touched me there. I should be nervous, but it feels so good. It feels right.
My legs part instinctively, and he groans when his fingers slip between them. “You’re so wet, Violet.”
I gasp again, my hips lifting to meet his touch. His thick, rough fingers enter me, and moans escape us both. He works me with his fingers, watching my face as pleasure builds. I’ve never felt anything like this. The sensations are overwhelming.
My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in. I’m trembling, making urgent sounds, completely lost in what he’s doing to me. When he adds a third finger, my back arches as I whisper his name. White-hot heat explodes within me, and I’m shattering.
Darius pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, his eyes glinting. There’s a hunger there that makes me want more. Makes me want everything.
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and pauses, his breathing ragged. “Tell me to stop.”
But I don’t.
He pulls my jeans down just enough, and then his mouth is on me.
His tongue is clever as he eats me out, diving into me, curling, hitting spots I didn’t know existed.
I grip the edge of the couch harder, crying out.
The pleasure is intense, overwhelming. My hips move against his mouth involuntarily.
He grips my thighs, holding me in place as he works me with his tongue.
“D-Darius…Darius, please!”
I need more. I need to come. I need to—
He pinches my clit, and my back arches as I cry out his name.
Then, I feel it.
That thing inside me stretches. Unfurls like it did when Darius and I first kissed in my apartment. It has been sleeping my entire life, as long as I can remember, and now, it suddenly awakens with a hunger that matches his.
My wolf.
She’s there. Actually there. Not muted or distant or suppressed. Present and aware and demanding more.
The sensation spurs me on. My hands tighten on the cushions, my body arching wildly. The sounds coming from my throat are animalistic now, raw and uncontrolled.
Darius lifts his head, and his eyes are blazing as he looks up at me. “Violet,” he growls softly. “Tell me to stop. Please tell me to stop.”
When I don’t, his hands move to his belt and fumble with the buckle.
I should tell him to stop. Should put an end to this before we cross another line we can never uncross.
But all that comes out of my mouth is a moan.
His control breaks completely. He rips his belt free and shoves his pants down, and then his hands are on my jeans. He doesn’t bother taking them off me; he just grabs hold of the fabric and tears. The sound of denim ripping fills the apartment, and I gasp as cool air hits my heated skin.
His pupils are pure gold now, wild and hungry.
Before I know what he’s doing, he flips me over.
He positions me on my knees, facing the end of the couch, my hands gripping the armrest for support.
My legs fall open without conscious thought as he settles behind me, between my thighs, his body trembling with restraint.
His eyes meet mine over my shoulder one last time, asking, begging, giving me one final chance to say no.
But I whisper brokenly, “Please. I need you.”
And he snaps.