Page 31 of Satanic Shadow
Dane grimaces, and I fight a scoff before turning away from him to face the wall. “If you thought task two was bad, we’ll never survive the rest. They get more intense.”
“Elaborate.”
“I’d rather not. Go read the list.”
He yawns and replies, “I’d rather not.”
I grunt, but my eyes close once more.
For some reason, he isn’t leaving, and I’m not telling him to.
A few moments pass, then I’m pulled against him again. “Just to be sure we did the full six hours,” he whispers against my ear. “Okay?”
I nod. “Okay.”
We fall asleep for what feels like hours, but in reality, going by the sunlight still barely lighting up the room, it’s only been about twenty minutes.
But his hand is on my hip, and the electricity strumming between us is intense and indestructible.
Like two magnets, stronger than anything I’ve ever come across, our bodies press against each other. A force not even Dane can fight. It’s not uncomfortable or sickening. It’s the total opposite.
A steady calm of two heartbeats.
Blood pumping through veins.
Lungs expanding and contracting.
Each breath from Dane fills me, and the touch of his hand on my bare skin isn’t burning like my dreams but like ice melting on a hot day.
I could lie here forever, if the world allowed me to.
When I shift, my eyes ping open at what I feel.
He’s hard as granite. Long. Big. There. Pressing against my ass, only my panties to create a barrier, because my nightdress has risen up even further. But instead of tensing or wincing or trying to pull away, if only to stop embarrassment on his part, I stay still.
His arm—which is still on top of me—is in full view now that the room is brighter. Naked. There’s no shirt to hide the tanned skin, or the strange writing and symbols that are tattooed on his forearm.
I’ve never been able to make out his ink before, but now that he’s all over me, I allow my eyes to explore what I can.
The hairs on his arm stick up as I trace the black writing, the symbols I don’t recognize. An immortal who gets goose pimples across his skin seems bizarre.
As if my touch has woken him, his fingers bury into my skin as he yanks me against him.
He’s still hard; still pressed to my ass. The impressive rigidness could likely rip through my panties, if he really wanted to go there.
Against my better judgment, for the hundredth time in the past six hours, I arch my back and push my ass into his erection. The groan that leaves his throat vibrates all over me. From my chest, down my spine and right between my legs. Deep. Dangerous. Deadly.
The walls are empty of shadows as Dane reaches down and grabs my inner thigh, the other hand pushing under my pillow and snatching my throat. Firm, yet gentle—enough to show he can dominate me without even trying.
My erratic pulse is thudding against his palm.
His fingers dig into my flesh as he dips his face to the space between my shoulder and neck.
“Do that again,” he orders quietly through gritted teeth.
I do as I’m told. I arch my back, rubbing my ass against his hard cock. I can tell by the thickness that he’s considerably larger than a human. Quite frankly, I reckon he’d snap my body into pieces if it went anywhere near me.
He exhales through his nose, each breath harsh and forced out as I move against him again and again.
