Page 135 of Every Shade of Shadow

I clench around him, vision going white as I come once more, grinding down on his cock.

With a groan, he pulls me down hard and holds me there, finding his own release, cock twitching inside my depths.

Breathless and spent, I slump against his chest, still barely conscious as the clones merge back into one.

Darkwood strokes my hair, a surprisingly gentle gesture. “You did well, little lamb.”

Pride suffuses me at his praise, intensifying the bone-deep satisfaction thrumming through my body.

My limbs are jelly, but thick desire still simmers in my blood. I nuzzle the Professor's neck, inhaling his scent of spice and smoke.

He gathers me close, our breaths slowing. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," I whisper, too spent to come up with anything more creative than the truth.

His lips curve against my temple. "As you should."

I trace idle patterns across the tattoos on his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin against mine.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" I ask softly. “I want to fall asleep in your arms, to wake with you beside me."

I may be overstepping here but fuck it. What’s the worst that’s going to happen? I’m rejected, sent scurrying away like the fucktoy I am?

Carried away, more like it.

I’m not sure my legs are even going to work.

A flicker of emotion crosses his face before he schools his features. But it's enough.

"Then stay." He kisses my forehead, a tender benediction.

"Rest now." He pulls me closer, his heart beating in time with my own.

My chest rises and falls with steady breaths.

A certain contentment seems to settle over him, and I wonder if those sharp edges of his soul have been blunted.

If only a little.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I wake in a blissful bubble of emotion—one I have created with a certain Damien Darkwood. He sits on a chair beside the bed, naked, one leg folded over the other. He smiles. “There you are.”

I pull my hair over my face. “Please, I look horrible when I wake up.”

“I would beg to differ.”

I lift a curtain of hair, watching him with one eye. “Did that really happen last night? The clones?”

He nods slowly. “I’ve done my best to treat you. I used Curatio Tactus, Somnus Profundus, amongst others, but I’m afraid you will still be rather sore today.”

I stretch to test this theory, and while improved, Darkwood is right: I’m going to spend today walking ’round like a wooden block.

“And your power?” he queries.

I close my eyes and breathe in to find the shadows. They’re deep, but they’re there. “I’m not sure.”

“In time,” he says, standing and extending his hand. “I’m afraid I have class soon, but come, let us bathe together.”

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