Page 56 of Blood Bound

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as they meet mine. “Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I open my mouth, knowing I should do exactly that. But the words won’t come. Instead, I find myself saying, “Don’t stop. Please.”

A flash of triumph lights his eyes before he captures my lips again. This kiss is slower, deeper, but no less passionate. His hands roam my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I explore him in turn, running my fingers through his hair, tracing the strong line of his jaw, feeling the muscles of his back flex under my touch.

He breaks the kiss again, trailing his lips down my neck. I tilt my head, giving him better access. The scrape of his fangs against my skin sends a jolt of both fear and arousal through me. He doesn’t bite, not yet, but the possibility hangs between us, thrilling and dangerous.

His hands find the hem of my top, slipping underneath to caress bare skin. I gasp at the contact, arching into his touch. He groans, pressing closer, and I can feel the hard line of his cock against my hip.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I murmur, even as I pull him closer.

“No,” he agrees, his voice muffled against my skin. “But I can’t seem to stop.”

Neither can I, I realize. It’s like a dam has broken, all the desire we’ve been holding back flooding out at once. I know this is reckless, that anyone could walk in on us at any moment. But right now, I don’t care.

I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. He obliges, stepping back just long enough for me to fumble the buttons open. I drink in the sight of him – broad shoulders, chiseled abs, skin pale and perfect. Unable to resist, I lean forward, pressing my lips to his chest. His sharp intake of breath encourages me, and I continue my exploration, kissing and nipping my way across his torso.

His hand cradles the back of my head, guiding me back up to his mouth. As we kiss, he reaches for the hem of my skirt, sliding the fabric up my thigh and bunching it over my hips.

“Fuck,” he groans, looking down at my bare thighs and the scrap of black lace that covers my mound.

I blush, suddenly feeling exposed. But before I can feel self-conscious, Darick is kissing me again, his hands roaming over newly exposed skin. I moan into his mouth as his fingers trace the edge of my panties, teasing but not quite where I want them.

“Darick,” I whimper, pressing into his touch.

He smirks against my lips. “Yes, little witch?”

“Please,” I breathe, beyond caring about pride or propriety or the fact that there is a crowd of partygoers dancing just beyond the veil of the curtains.

His fingers finally slip beneath the fabric, and I gasp at the contact. He strokes me slowly, teasingly, his fingertip tracing the seam of my pussy before rubbing my clit. I cling to his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as pleasure courses through me.

Just as I’m about to reach my peak, he withdraws his hand. I whine in protest, but he silences me with a kiss. “Not yet,” he murmurs against my lips. “I want to taste you first.”

Before I can process his words, he’s sinking to his knees in front of me. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my panties, yanking them down in one swift movement.

The first touch of his tongue on the throbbing nub of my clit makes me cry out, my head falling back against the wall. He licks and sucks, alternating between teasing flicks and firm strokes. I bite my lip, trying to muffle my moans, all too aware of how exposed we are.

Darick grasps my thighs, holding me steady as he works me higher. I thread my fingers through his hair, gripping him firmly against me. The pleasure is almost too much, overwhelming in its intensity.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he slips two fingers inside me, curling them in a way that has me seeing stars. The dual sensation pushes me over the edge, and I clamp a hand over my mouth as I come undone with a muffled cry, my body shuddering with release.

Darick works me through it, only pulling away when I tug gently at his hair. He stands, kissing me deeply, and I can taste myself on his tongue. It’s erotic in a way I never expected.

As we kiss, I reach for the fastening of his pants, fumbling slightly in my eagerness. He helps me, pushing them down his thighs along with his underwear. I wrap my hand around him, stroking slowly, relishing the way his breath hitches.

“Rowan,” he groans, his forehead resting against mine.

I know I should stop, but I’m past the point of rational thought. I want him; consequences be damned.

He lifts me easily, and I wrap my legs around his waist. I can feel the head of his cock poised at my entrance, hard and ready. Our eyes lock as he slowly pushes inside, stretching and filling me in the most delicious way.

We both groan as he bottoms out. For a moment, we’re still, adjusting to the sensation. Then Darick starts to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has me gasping with every thrust.

I cling to him, my nails digging into his back as he drives into me. The pleasure builds quickly, my body still sensitive from my earlier orgasm. Darick’s movements become faster, harder, his control slipping as we both near the edge.

“Darick,” I pant, feeling my release approaching. “I’m close.”

“Come for me, little witch,” he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic.

---