Spellbound . . .
Each time he lowered his defenses and let me in had felt like a victory. This, now, here, felt like destiny.
He continued ravaging me with affection between my thighs until I was soaking wet. His raw craving revealed in his obsessive owning of my body, kissing and licking along my flesh like he was mapping me out to return to later. Memorize the way I responded to each sublime touch that led to him possessing me.
Lifting my head off the pillow and glancing down, seeing his rock hardness rising up like a threat—the kind I would beg for if he made me. It was so engorged, revealing he was just as turned on.
Gently and slowly, he slid one finger into me, watching my reaction and judging how deep to go. Moving in and out slowly at first, and then grinding out a perfect rhythm, bringing a never-ending bliss.
Shaking my head, whipping my hair from side to side, proving I was wanton for more. Unable to hide this rising desire.
All air in my lungs snatched away.
My orgasm detonated into a million pieces, his flicking tongue possessing me, possessing every conscious thought. Writhing and squirming beneath the way he obliterated everything except these sensations bursting through me, surging like a life force that could turn time forward and back, turning me inside out and somehow, someway, moving me onward into a different future.
Claiming me as his.
I reveled in his power and exulted in his brilliant control. His ability to take all that pain and weave it into something sacred, something that would sustain us.
As I came down to earth, he slowed the rhythm, seemingly respectful of how sensitive my flesh felt after his minstrations.
Shuddering still, I turned my eyes on him as he withdrew his fingers. This roiling passion for him and for a life with him, made my heart soar.
My lungs were still trying to drag in air.
I knew he’d wanted me to feel safe here in this room, feel cared for and protected. To undo all that had gone before. In so many ways, it was happening.
He moved away, but before I could protest, I saw him stretching for the bedside table. He grabbed up the condom and tore it open, rolling the sheath over his impressive length and throwing the packet playfully over the bed.
Cassius climbed on top of me, using his elbows to hold up the weight of his body.
He eased into me slowly.
He was studying my reaction to gauge how much I could take. When he tipped his hips ever so slightly, that familiar blinding pain hit me between my legs. But even still, I widened my thighs and coaxed him on, needing more of him.
With a nod, I let him know I was ready for more, more him, more of this, more of everything he was willing to give.
He thrust into me, slow and sure, forceful and with passion. His length began a steady glide in and out, slick against my arousal, driving me toward the edge again. My mouth gaped with the pleasure as a rush of fullness and bliss exploded inside me.
Pouting through these delicious sensations. A luscious intensifying of fiery passion burning within. He leaned low and pressed his mouth to mine, his tongue searching my mouth as he took me harder still. Battling with mine as I fought to say with a kiss what my words had failed to say, that I wanted this, needed this, needed him.
Cassius was giving me the intimacy I’d craved in those lonely nights when I’d first arrived here. A passion awakening alongside these untapped emotions surging with greater intensity. Like my heart was opening, full and wanting of the love he offered, even as it was jagged and broken and fragile.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Tell me what you need.”
My lips parted in a teasing pout. “Harder.”
His eyes studied mine as he ground his hips and thrust deeper. “Like this?”
“It feels . . .” I breathed. He pounded me with an intense beat. “Oh, yes, don’t stop. Not ever.”
His hand slid low between us, and he beat out a stunning rhythm on that small bud that responded to his touch.
A soft moan escaped, revealing my rising pleasure. Shuddering in response to the way he was playing with me, his fingers flicking to a beat that felt like a dark spell being cast on my sex.
My throaty groan met by his triumphant stare.
Looking down, I followed his line of sight and zeroed in on where all that pleasure was focused, the place where my body was on fire with want.
He, too, looked down at where he was entering me. “Fuck.”
My nipples were so hard they panged with desire. When he raised his gaze, he caught their pebbling, too, and dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “God, you’re so beautiful.”