Page 61 of Their Reckless Thief
Something tightened in my chest. Something warm. “You deserve it,” I said softly as I sat down on the blanket. I patted the spot next to me. “Now, let’s eat. Dessert’s on me.”
We sipped on wine and shared chocolate-covered strawberries, talking about our pasts and our families. She told me about growing up under Roberto’s influence, about the life on the streets that she’d clawed her way out of. I shared stories about my pack, about the wildness and freedom of being a shifter, about the loyalty that came with it, about the burdens.
“I am the firstborn male in my family, the one expected to take over from my father whenever he decides to step down from his duties as a leader of the pack. He wasn’t exactly happy with my choice to devote my loyalty and time to Vincenzo.”
Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Why did you? Devote yourself to Vincenzo?”
I ran a hand through my hair, thinking back to the first time I’d shown up at Vincenzo’s door and asked if he was hiring. He’d laughed in my face, then said he appreciated someone who had the guts to knock on his door and ask for a job.
“Mafia life, hell, city life, fascinated me. I had somewhat of a sheltered life living in the forest amongst other shifters. We’d hear rumblings of this vampire lord, who commanded power with a flick of his wrist. I was enamored with that kind of power and wished I could wield it myself. Working with Vincenzo gave me a new sense of belonging. I soon learned I was damn good at my job. Sure, everything I did was out of loyalty for him, but at the same time, I was making a name for myself.”
“And what name would that be?” Celeste smirked and took another bite of her strawberry.
I grinned. “Oh, you know the name well, don’t you, baby? DorianfuckingVoss. I’m the one who keeps nightlife lively, who makes sure everyone stays in line and does what they’re told. In return, Vincenzo protects my pack. They can live in harmony deep in the forest, away from all the shit I deal with on a daily basis.”
The conversation drifted into something even deeper.
“What’s your biggest fear?” I asked her.
She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the wine glass in her hand. “Losing control. Being trapped. Not having any way out.”
I nodded, understanding more than I wanted to admit. “Same here,” I said, surprising even myself. “Being caged, tied down, not being free to be who I am or to do what I want to do.”
Our eyes met, and the world quieted around us. I leaned in, slowly closing the space between us, my lips hovering mere inches from hers. She tensed, and before I could close the distance, she turned her head and blew out a shaky breath.
“No kissing on the mouth,” she whispered, reminding me of her rule, the boundary she’d set from the beginning.
I didn’t push it. Instead, I trailed my lips down her neck, kissing her softly, loving the way her body trembled at my touch. Her breath hitched, and the tension between us grew taut, the pull growing stronger.
My wolf growled deep inside me, wanting to take Celeste. I sat up on my knees facing her and pulled her up to her knees. She smirked. “You’re not going to try and kiss me again, are you?”
I shook my head. “Not on your mouth, anyway.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her to me.
I pressed my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. “You are so damn stubborn,” I whispered, my lips grazing her earlobe before trailing down her neck. She shivered slightly as I nipped at her skin, my canines pressinglightly against her pulse. My wolf growled in approval, his hunger matching mine.
Celeste gasped as I traced a deliberate line from her collarbone to the hollow just beneath it with my tongue. The sound sent a primal jolt through me, stirring something raw that clawed to the surface. Her hands tangled in my hair, her fingers threading through the strands and tugging just enough to make me groan against her skin. That small gesture—her surrender mixed with her quiet strength—ignited something feral inside me.
She smelled like vanilla with the faintest edge of something more—her desire, her apprehension, herneed. It was intoxicating, a heady blend that shot straight through me, making my cock strain painfully against my pants. I wanted to savor her, to draw this out, but the wildness inside me begged for release, for possession.
In a single, fluid motion, I flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath me. The moonlight filtered through the canopy of trees above, painting her in soft silver light. Her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips made her look like a Renaissance painting—something divine, something I could never deserve but would spend my life worshipping. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and when her eyes met mine, they burned with a hunger that mirrored my own.
“You’re stunning,” I murmured, my voice rough with restraint.
She was beyond beautiful. And, gods, I wanted her to bemine.
My hand drifted lower, tracing the soft curve of her stomach, teasing the sensitive skin around her navel before slipping farther down. I cupped her through the lace of her panties, the heat of her arousal radiating against my palm. She whimpered,her hips rising to meet my touch, and it undid me. I wanted to unravel her, wanted to see her shatter in my arms.
Her back arched as I circled her clit with agonizing slowness. The fabric dampened further, her body’s response to me more intoxicating than any drink, more consuming than any fight. She whimpered again, the sound so sweet, so desperate, that I couldn’t stop the low growl that rumbled in my chest.
“Dorian,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, and fuck, hearing my name on her lips like that sent fire coursing through my veins.
I leaned down, brushing my lips over hers—not quite a kiss, but a promise. “I’ve got you, love,” I whispered, my voice low and raw. “Let me take care of you.”
She tugged at the hem of my shirt, and I let her pull it over my head. Her hands roamed over the planes of my chest, her touch leaving trails of fire on my skin, each pass of her fingers feeding the storm brewing inside me. I pinned her wrists above her head, holding her in place as I nipped at the delicate line of her jaw, then down to the soft hollow of her neck.
I paused, pulling back just enough to drink her in. Her dress clung to her in all the right ways, and with slow, deliberate care, I slid the fabric higher, revealing her creamy, peach-toned skin inch by inch. When I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, I couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped me.
“Fuck, Celeste,” I rasped, my gaze devouring her.
