Page 52 of The Demon's Little Girl
The walk to my chambers feels endless and instant all at once. Every step sends little jolts of awareness through me—the warmth of her thighs against my sides, the soft puff of her breath against my skin, the way she fits against me like she was made for this. For me.
My door slams shut behind us with enough force to rattle the frame. I set her down gently beside my bed, my hands immediately going to her face, needing to touch her, to convince myself this is real. The lamplight catches the bronze undertones in her skin, making her glow like something ethereal.
"Are you sure?" The question scrapes from my throat, rough with need but edged with uncertainty. "If we do this, there's no going back for me. You'll be mine, completely."
Her hands find the blood-stained fabric of my shirt, fingers working at the laces with trembling determination. "I've been yours for years. I just didn't know if you'd have me."
Fuck. The admission hits like a physical blow, stealing what's left of my breath. I capture her hands in mine, bringing them to my lips to press kisses against her knuckles. "Always. In every way you'll let me."
Her smile transforms her entire face, chasing away the last shadows of shame and fear. When she reaches for my shirt again, I don't stop her. The fabric falls away, baring the scarred expanse of my chest to her gaze. Her fingers trace the old wound across my ribs with reverent touches that make me shudder.
"My turn." My voice comes out darker than I intend, heavy with promise.
The simple dress she wears fastens at the shoulders with delicate ties. I undo them slowly, savoring each inch of golden skin revealed as the fabric slides down her body. She's more beautiful than my dreams ever dared imagine—all soft curves and gentle strength, marks of motherhood only making her more perfect in my eyes.
When she's bare before me, I have to pause just to fucking breathe. Two years of wondering, of stolen glances and forbidden thoughts, and none of it prepared me for the reality of her naked in my chambers, looking at me like I hung the stars.
"You're perfect," I whisper, my hands mapping the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. "So fucking perfect."
Her cheeks flush pink at the praise, but she doesn't look away. Instead, she reaches for me, pulling me down until our lips meet again. This kiss is different—hungrier, more desperate. All the careful control I've maintained for years dissolves under the heat of her mouth.
I lift her onto the bed, following her down onto the soft furs. She arches beneath me as I trail kisses down her throat, her collarbones, the valley between her breasts. Every sound she makes drives me closer to madness—soft gasps and breathy moans that go straight to my cock.
When I take her nipple into my mouth, she cries out, her back bowing off the bed. The taste of her skin is addictive, salt and warmth and something uniquely Liora. I lavish attention on her breasts until she's writhing beneath me, her hands fisted in my hair.
"Rovak, please?—"
The desperate edge in her voice nearly undoes me. I kiss my way down her body, exploring every inch like I'm mapping sacred territory. When I reach the apex of her thighs, she tenses, uncertainty flickering across her features.
"Let me taste you," I murmur against her hip bone. "I've imagined this so many times."
Her legs fall open in silent permission, and I nearly lose my mind at the sight of her—slick and ready, pink and perfect. The first touch of my tongue against her makes her sob my name, her thighs trembling on either side of my head.
She tastes like honey and sin, like every fantasy I've ever had about her made real. I worship her with my mouth, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her arch, what makes her grab my horns and hold on like I'm her anchor in a storm.
When she comes apart under my tongue, her whole body seizing with pleasure, I think I might die from the beauty of it. The way she moans my name, the way her fingers tighten in my hair, the way she looks at me afterward like I've given her something precious—it's everything I never knew I needed.
"I need you," she whispers, reaching for me. "Please, I need you inside me."
I move up her body, settling between her thighs. My cock throbs against her entrance, hard enough to hurt, but I force myself to go slow. To savor this moment I've dreamed about for fucking years.
"Tell me if I hurt you."
She nods, her hands gripping my shoulders as I push inside her inch by careful inch. She's so tight, so warm, so perfect that I have to grit my teeth to keep from losing control. When I'm fully seated, we both go still, overwhelmed by the sensation of finally being connected.
"Fuck," I breathe against her throat. "You feel so good. So perfect."
She moves first, lifting her hips in silent encouragement. That small movement breaks whatever restraint I have left. I start to move, slow and deep, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. But all I see is pleasure, wonder, love shining in her amber eyes.
"I love you," she gasps as I find a rhythm that has her clinging to me. "I love you so much."
The words shatter something inside my chest, rebuilding it into something stronger, something worthy of her trust. "I love you too," I growl against her ear. "More than breathing. More than anything."
Our bodies move together like they were designed for this, like we've been dancing this dance for years instead of minutes. She meets every thrust, her nails digging into my back aspleasure builds between us. When she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, I see stars.
"Come with me," I command, my hand sliding between our bodies to find the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes her cry out. "Let go. I've got you."
She fractures around me, her body clenching so tight I nearly black out from the sensation. The sight of her coming undone because of me, because of what we're creating together, sends me over the edge. I bury myself deep and let go, spilling inside her with a roar that probably wakes half the house.
