Page 56 of The Child of Rue Royale
“Okay, fuck waiting,” he says and bolts up, pressing his waist between my hips, pushing my legs wider, my insides begging to be spread open by him. God, I’ve dreamt of this, needed this, wanted this for so long.
He sighs, hands reaching up under my nightie, grabbing each side of my panties, and I lift up, allowing him to slip them off and toss them behind his head.
Gripping my neck, he pulls my lips to his, his mouth consuming mine like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted in his life. My body vibrates under his touch, a touch it’s been craving for so long, a touch that remembers every trace of my skin, knows every curve of my figure. This is happening, this is real, this is heaven.
“I just want you to know,” I whisper frantically between kisses. “I’m going to cry. But please believe, it’s the happiest fucking tears of my life.” He pauses, blinks, then presses his lips back on mine, kissing me so deeply, so softly, my legs clench around his hips like they could crush through his bone. And they spill over, the tears of desire and heat and utter bliss.
Pulling away and pushing a strand of hair from my face, he clasps his hand against my cheek while his eyes pierce mine. “I’m going to do everything in my power to only see happy tears on this face from here on, okay?” His finger slides inside of me, spiraling over my sensitive flesh, his green eyes glued to mine, as I suck in a gust of air. “Tell me you’re happy, baby. Tell me.”
“I’m so fucking happy, Bastian,” I cry, clenching around his finger, tears streaming down my face. My hand wraps around his wrist that holds my face, my body writhing against his touch.
“Good.” He nods, his fingers making my body ignite like the sun, like I’m a human ball of fire. “Look at me, Aster. Look in my eyes,” he groans as the friction builds and builds, the magic his finger works causes my legs to quake, and the power those eyes have over me. The intensity destroys me, carrying more power than any witch could ever wish for. How those green orbs hold me captive in their gaze, the fortitude, the worship. I am melting under him.
And then his fingers are gone and my breath is hot and my lungs are aching for more.
He slides the small straps of my nightie down, exposing my breasts to the cold, my nipples already hard from his vicinity. He looks at them, then back up at me with reverence, like he’s missed them. Hot kisses pepper down my neck, down my chest, until my nipple is in his mouth, the wet swirl of his tongue causing me to grab a handful of his hair. I raise up, my hand finding his hardness beneath his sweatpants, stroking up and down. I need him inside me, I need us to be one again, so I pull him out, and his eyes pin mine from under his black lashes. My cold fingers wrap around his sensitive skin for the first time in so long, and the yearning in his eyes, the fucking yearning. It ruins me.
“Oh, God,” he hisses. “I’ve missed you so much.”
So I lie back and push my pelvis against his dick, holding it firmly between us, begging him, as he rushes passionate kisses up my neck. He stands there for a moment as I work my body up and down his length, my wetness lubricating him, making him tremble.
“Oh fuck, Aster.” He breathes out, his fingers pinching my nipples.
I moan, the sensation making every cell in my body roar with pleasure.
“Fuck, that feels so good, baby,” he cries out then gently pushes me on my back and slides my body higher on the table. Crawling ontop of it, body hovering over mine, he says, “But when I come, it’s going to be deep inside of you, okay?”
“Please,” I beg, and then, he’s at my entrance, that familiar need only he can set aflame inside of me, begging. Everything blurs from the tears in my eyes, the push of him filling me, so tight, so heavenly.
His hands find each side of my face, and I feel his first thrust all the way to the top of my head, to the depths of my soul. Thumbs wipe away tears from each eye, and he slowly pulls out and pushes back in again, so deep, so full.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I cry, grabbing his face like I’m holding on for dear life. “You’re really here.” I’m sobbing, and he stops for a moment, eyes piercing into mine.
“I am, I’m really here,” he breathes into my mouth. “Don’t cry, baby.” But there are tears in his eyes as he gently pushes inside me again.
My legs fall open, my body taking in every sensation as he rides me, his forehead on mine, the roll of his hips raising mine with every press inside. There’s the familiar weight of him on top of me, his arms caging my head, protecting me. Like no time has passed. Like we are infinity.
“Tell me you’re mine, Aster,” he whispers against my lips, taking my tongue into his mouth as he fucks me, the tempo rising, the intensity feeling like my body has finally crystallized. Like I was just air before, just riding the waves of life for the past year. I haven’t felt so real, so present in months. “Tell me your mine,” he says again.
Hips slowly grind into me as he pulls up to look into my wet eyes, the desire from sobbing and being fucked at the same time overwhelming me.
I press my hand over his heart, its rampant beat heating my palm, as my index finger caresses his Adam’s apple. The friction is enough, the push and pull but then his fingers trail between us until he’s stroking and circling and fucking me at the same time.
“Bastian…” I cry, noticing the blush on his cheeks, something I’ve never seen before, and time slows to a drip. “I’m yours. Since the beginning, I was yours.”
I place a hand on his cheek, my thumb grazing the blood that’s flushed to the surface of his skin. “You are so beautiful. You never blushed when you were a vampire.” Something about that moves him, so with a sharp intake of breath, he grinds harder and faster, sendingshockwaves back into me as the table rumbles under us. I clench my eyes shut as his fingers slide over my clit, again and again, the waves of pleasure those fingers cause against my bare flesh as he drives into me, steals my breath, and my neck tenses from the ecstasy.
A breeze kisses my face, the heat of our bodies the only thing keeping us warm. The thrusts suddenly stop, and my eyes shoot open.
“Aster,” he breathes. “We’re fucking floating.”
I look around us, the table still under our bodies, but up at least five feet in the air, the deck closer to us than the ground. I yelp, and he laughs, pressing his open mouth against mine.
“We are magic,” he whispers. “You and I.”
The familiar words send me reeling, so I press my hips up to be filled by him again and beg, “Don’t stop. Keep going.”
He slides back in, filling me, his hip bones pressing into me, carving their place against mine forever. The wind in our hair, the floating table making us weightless. And within moments I’m almost there, the muscles in my belly tightening, the pleasure building from the way his eyes are fused to mine, the way he rides me. Like there was no distance between us. Like our hearts were attached the whole time.
