Page 25 of The Last Shadow

“Remember in my vows when I said how much I desire you?”

I nod, heart racing.

“I desire your body as well as your mind, and tonight I am claiming them both.” Damien’s eyes burn with an intensity as he appears over me on the bed. “Lie back against the pillows.”

I comply, my heart pounding.

“Good girl. Now hook your arms under your knees and hold yourself open for me.”

It takes some maneuvering with my dress, but I obey. “Like this?”

He nods, his gaze devouring the sight of my exposed pussy, glistening with arousal. “Fuck, I love seeing you like this. My bride. Pink, wet and open. Completely vulnerable.”

The position feels lewd, but his hungry stare erases any doubt in my mind. Heismy husband now. “Damien, please…”

His smile makes me shiver as he positions himself between my spread thighs. “Is this what you want?” he asks in a husky whisper before dragging his tongue along my slit from entrance to clit.

“God, yes,” I gasp.

Never breaking eye contact, he laps at my pussy with slow strokes that make my legs tremble. The heat of his breath, the slick glide of his tongue, is so overwhelming.

I can’t hold back my moans as I watch this gorgeous man devour me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. He teases mercilessly, licking everywhere except where I need it most until I’m trembling and desperate. “Please, Damien!”

Finally, he sucks my clit between his lips, applying an exquisite pressure that has me seeing stars. Mischief dances in his eyes as he watches my reactions, increasing the suction and speed of his tongue as I get closer to the edge.

His tongue is doing wicked things to me, and then he slides a finger—slick and wet—into my ass, and I buck my hips, gasping. It’s too much, but I need more. “Fuck! Yes, just like that,” I’m panting, now tugging at his hair to pull him even closer. Screw the dress. It’s already ruined.

With a particularly hard suck on my clit and an intense thrust of his finger, I shatter. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I archmy back, a strangled scream escaping my lips. “Oh God, yes!” I cry out as waves of pleasure crash over me. But Damien doesn’t let up. He continues his sweet torture until another orgasm builds, slow and relentless. “Damien,” I warn breathlessly.

Suddenly, he pulls back, and I barely have time to register his movements before his tuxedo jacket hits the floor. Next, his shirt joins the pile and then he’s tossing his pants with the same force.

“Damien,” I breathe.

“Keep your dress on, Francesca,” he says, his eyes blazing with raw hunger. “I want my bride to look like a bride when I claim you as my wife.”

In one fluid motion, he’s inside me, filling me completely. My eyes widen at the sensation, but I bite my lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape. Damien’s hands slide along my thighs, pushing the layers of tulle aside. His touch sears my skin as he begins to thrust, his movements both urgent and powerful.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathe, my nails digging into his broad shoulders. “Don’t stop,” I plead, my body arching to meet his.

I’m so sensitive that every movement feels magnified. When he fucks me like this, like nothing in the world matters, I feel cherished beyond measure. The restraint he’s showing, just to please me, is incredible.

“Fuck, Francesca. Mine,” he growls.

“Yours,” I agree. “Now fuck me, Mr. Wolfe. Give me all you’ve got.”

With a growl that sounds like a wild animal, he pulls out and slams home. Again and again, he pounds into me mercilessly.All I can do is hold on for dear life as he claims his wife, leaving bruises I’ll wear proudly later. “Yes! Yes! Damien!”

I clench around him violently as I come, which seems to trigger his own release. With a growl, Damien empties himself deep inside me, hips jerking erratically.

We collapse in a sweaty, sated heap. Damien nuzzles my neck as we catch our breath. “Fuck, Francesca. I think I died for a second there.”

I stroke his hair with a satisfied smirk. “And my pussy brought you back to life? I’m amazing.”

He pulls back, his gaze intense. “You are absolutely incredible. Never forget that.”

Exhausted and sticky with sweat, I ask, “Can I take this dress off now?”

“No. Sleep in it.” His tone is firm, brooking no argument.

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