Page 44 of Satanic Shadow
Still straddling him, I squeeze my thighs to his sides to cause some sort of friction, and he hisses but doesn’t stop me. If anything, he’s encouraging me by pulling away from my mouth and kissing along my jawline.
My head tilts to the side to give him better access, and a moan slips from me as he nips the sensitive skin beneath my ear and sucks on the flesh.
I bury both hands into his hair and draw his mouth back to mine, and when he growls into my mouth, my pussy clenches, and heat builds at the base of my spine.
Our souls beg to intertwine—a desire, a need so strong I think I might pass out. Each time we connect, more shadows appear in the room—the ground, the ceiling, the walls full of them. I can hear some of them, repeatedly saying words I can’t decipher. They aren’t the same as the ones that keep me company in my room. These ones seem… hungry and desperate, with an insatiable thirst for something.
We keep pulling away before the one minute mark. I don’t think either of us is focusing too much on the time.
All I can focus on is the way his body fits so well with mine, the way his lips feel against my own, and the darkness surrounding us.
“Ignore them,” he orders in a low tone, noticing me slowing down and staring at the masses of black. He grabs my shirt and tugs at it to bring me back to his face. “They can’t see us, mortal. They can only feel us.”
His mouth is like a dark sin. Each lick and slide and bite bounces off every nerve ending. Twisted thoughts rush through me of how his mouth would feel between my legs, and how his hair would feel between my fingers as I rode his face in only my skirt.
I want to hear his language fall from his lips while he’s screwing me. To feel all of him as we complete each task, each assignment, each dance at the ball, each time our eyes clash and the atmosphere changes. The shattering energy alone could destroy the entire universe.
God, I want to fuck this man. I hate him. I truly do, but sitting in his lap and tasting him, it’s like something is overriding that hatred. Nothing makes sense about how I’m feeling about this – I should hate it. I should be grimacing at the thought of Dane Dalton touching me, kissing me, whispering against my skin in a language I don’t recognize.
I gasp loudly as a flash of images slam into me, but they’re all too fast, too much to concentrate on. The moment lasts merely a second, but as I freeze in his hold, he watches me, searching my face.
“What is it?” he asks breathlessly. “What did you see?”
I can hear a hint of hopefulness in his tone, but when I shake my head and try to close the distance between us once more, he stops me.
He rips himself away to stand, setting me on my feet.
I instantly feel cold.
His jaw is tensing, his pants tented with his own arousal as he backs away from me, like he’s afraid of me. “That’s enough.”His voice is shaky, and he runs both hands through his hair and down his face. “We’re done here.”
I nod. Trying to catch my breath, I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, still tasting him. “That was weird.”
He drops his hands to his sides, eyes narrowing. The tall, muscular man who swallows all the air in the room couldn’t look more offended as he shakes his head.
Flustered, Dane asks with a clenched jaw, “Weird? Explain.”
How do I explain the past few minutes? “Just… weird.”
“Great.” He grimaces. “Fucking weird,” he mutters to himself, and I frown as he glances up at me. “I can read your thoughts, or did you forget the other ten times I’ve had to remind you? You didn’t find it weird. And I wasn’t going to fuck you. This is an assignment, and that’s all it is.”
I raise a brow, flicking my eyes down to the tenting of his pants. I walk behind the chair he sat in, gripping the wood, ignoring the ache between my legs. “The assignment is done. You can leave now.”
“You think you can dismiss me? This isn’t even your room. It’s a classroom.”
“Yes.” I walk to the door and throw it open because I don’t have powers like him to blow it off its hinges or teleport into different parts of the castle. “Leave, before I make you.”
“And how do you suppose you’d make me?”
I cross my arms. “I have a loud scream.”
Blankly, he stares at me and studies me. “I see.” He glances up to the ceiling, frowns, and glares back down at me. “Four more. Don’t make it as awkward next time.”
I scoff and look up, my eyes widening at the lick of flames spreading across the ceiling. Like they’re dancing, shrinking back until they’re nothing but black tendrils burned into the paint. There’s no heat, no smoke, no smell of something burning.
“What was that?”
He doesn’t give me an answer.
