Chapter 8 #5
My heart gallops inside my chest, my raspy breaths filling the space, and I moan, my hands gripping the dress when he runs his index finger over my sodden, lacy panties as heat slams into me from every direction.
Desire consumes me with each second, and a whimper escapes me when he glides his palms over the insides of my thighs, opening them wider.
He hooks my heels on the edge of the table, completely exposing me to him.
I cover my mouth with my fist, trapping a groan when he kisses me there, gently at first, only to suck hard on the flesh, my thighs clamping around him as powerful sensations travel straight to my clit.
He grips my panties, pulling at them and allowing for the lace to stretch against me, earning himself another moan as pleasure rushes through me. An unfamiliar heat hits me, creating a deep tension that urges me to just move a little to ease its grip and give my body what it craves.
Even if I have no idea what that is.
“Sweet little thing,” he whispers, rubbing his chin over my core before flicking my panties to the side, and ordering, “Diana, look at me.” Still too lost in the anticipation, I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting to remain in my fantasy and not think too hard about what’s going to happen next.
The things I only read about but might now become a reality, the things I shouldn’t probably do with a stranger or a man who hasn’t been the kindest to me.
Countless people have one-night stands, though, don’t they?
Is it so bad to find out what intimacy entails with my fake husband? Everyone already thinks I’m his.
Might as well indulge in the chaos, consequences be damned.
“Diana.” I gasp when he rips my panties away, his palms skimming under my ass as his fingers dig into me, the painful and blissful sensations mixing while the pressure down my stomach builds.
“Look at me.” I lift my head a little as our gazes clash.
The air sticks in my lungs from the promise and intensity shining in his as he makes more room for himself and orders, his voice husky and raspy, “Watch.” The word causes a tickling sensation all over me while casting a lustful shadow over us.
My body tenses, and the muscles on my stomach dip as lust burns everything inside me, urging him to do something.
My gasp echoes through the space when he rolls his tongue out, licking me from top to bottom.
“Oh,” I whisper, clamping my thighs around him and drowning in the heat of his creation.
It forces me to tangle my fingers in his hair, seeking him out for the need that must be sustained.
His mouth covers me whole, his tongue roaming between my folds and slipping inside as heat surrounds me. He thrusts, and I whimper, pulling harder at his hair, and he throws one of my legs over his shoulder. My heel digs into his back, and he groans against me.
He swipes his tongue up and down, trapping my clit between his teeth before licking the sting away and sucking on it, and my thighs clamp around him further as his fingers stab hard into my ass, lifting me higher.
The sweet torture seems never-ending, and all I can do is whimper and yank at his hair harder, keeping him in place so he won’t go anywhere else until he feeds the hunger consuming me.
Another long lick and he plunges his tongue deeper.
My core stretches around the muscle, and each thrust builds the pressure, making my skin taut and stomach dip.
Hot flushes zip through me one after another.
I start to grind on his tongue, whimpering at the relief it brings and gulping for breath when it only intensifies the need clawing at me.
“I need…” I don’t recognize this panting and starved voice. My throat feels dry. Rolling my hips closer to him when he delivers a hot kiss, I cry out and beg, “Please, I need—”
“Me,” he replies, slipping his tongue out and licking upward while his fingers enter me.
The double sensation and rhythm earn a loud moan from me and a growl from him.
“You need me.” Another gasp escapes my parted lips when he slaps my ass cheek, the sound rocking off the walls and sinking me deeper in his twisted web. “And who am I?”
I bite my lip, the pleasure sneaking up on me and traveling up my back while the scorching heat swirls within me, ready to erupt at any moment and burst everything into flames.
He stills, and I whimper in distress, hating him and needing him at once, knowing full well that he won’t continue until he hears what he wants. “My husband.”
Orion replaces his finger with his tongue.
As his mouth becomes more demanding, I start to move in tandem with his thrusts, and my breathing speeds up.
My stomach dips, my core clenches around him, and his hands grip me, turning rougher.
The combination of all these things finally shatters something in me, and I reach the peak.
“Oh my God,” I mutter, then freeze when he untangles my fingers from his hair and puts my leg back on the table. My cheeks must turn red when I see myself glistening on his mouth.
His lips travel up my stomach, breasts, collarbones, and neck before they reach mine, and he entangles us in a toe-curling kiss, asking for complete possession and submission while my body sours, and he swallows my moans.
I taste myself on his tongue, and the need to find out what he tastes like swipes through me.
Just imagining taking him into my mouth causes a different kind of fire in my veins.
I pull away and gulp in a breath while my thighs flex around him, my fingers gripping his shirt. Every cell in my body is filled with bliss and hunger, but greedy for more.
The action pushes his hard-on against my core, the rough texture of his jeans scraping at me, and I’m wet just from imagining him entering me for the first time and taking what I am so freely offering to him.
Was it only this morning when I considered this man a mere stranger?
I can’t fathom wanting anyone more, and as insane as it sounds, I want him to claim every inch of me and show me what belonging to such a man truly entails.
His masculine scent plays on the strings of my desire. I want to rip away this shirt that blocks my pathway to his bare skin so I can adore him in all the ways he worshipped me and imprint my own marks on his skin.
His body that will become a canvas for my curious nature, and though shyness sweeps over me at the thought, I can’t help but want to stake my claim all over him so no one would ever dare to touch him.
Or hurt him again if the puckered, rough flesh under my fingers on his shoulder is any indication.
His muscles grow rigid, and my eyelids flutter open as he moves back a little, his warmth leaving me at once. He grips my hips tighter right as he pulls us up, trapping me in his embrace.
The hunger and turmoil in his eyes only heighten the craving eating at me, my heart making a loud thud against my rib cage at the sight of the scar that must have brought him so much pain.
They call him a beast for no fault of his own. At this moment, he’s a prince to me, and I wish I had been there to protect him from the scrutiny society has shown him over the years.
A scar that I’m yet to kiss.
I place my splayed palm on his cheek, tracing my fingers over it, and freeze when his gaze gradually transforms from blazing to cold to downright cruel, stinging me.
He grabs my hand and pushes it away, stepping back as I frown in confusion. “Orion,” I whisper, hating how unsure and shaky my voice sounds even to my own ears. But I have no idea what’s going on.
We’ve just experienced something beautiful, and he’s acting as if…
Without uttering a single word, he turns on his heel and walks away from the dining table as the wind whooshes inside from the open terrace door. The cold settles on my heated skin as shame and hurt glide through my veins, replacing the earlier thrill.
My body that soared just seconds ago feels used and abandoned, and all my past insecurities come back, hunting my mind and painting scenarios in my head.
I’m inexperienced, so maybe I have done something wrong?
“You’re pathetic,” Father says, ripping the bow from my hair and throwing it away. My hands tremble because I spilled orange juice all over my white dress. “Useless little shit who takes after her mother.” I hang my head under his scrutiny. “How I wish you had died right along with her.”
The wooden clock ticks loudly in the otherwise silent room as I adjust my dress, using all my strength to control the sobs trying to escape. I hold back the tears because I should have known better.
When will I ever learn?