“You want me to break you, Roksana?” Elias rasped into her neck, his hips slamming into her buttocks repeatedly, gloriously, his sex going so deep it hurt and aroused in equal measure. Perfect. Perfect. “You’re the expert, baby. Tell me how. You break me every time you go away. Every time you come back. Your eyes break me. Your breath. Your heart.”
Chest in a permanent squeeze, her knees liquefied and she collapsed to the bed, but their lovemaking didn’t pause. It couldn’t. It was inevitable. Elias merely stuffed a pillow beneath her hips to angle them and fucked her all the harder, the sounds of her screams caught by the soft padding. “More,” she whispered, turning her head so she could see his face, her blood firing at the ownership and intensity she glimpsed there. “More.”
Elias made a hoarse sound and caught both of Roksana’s wrists, bending her elbows so he could pinion them to the center of her back, his thrusts turning ferocious. “More? You have all of me. You’re the keeper of everything.” He stayed her wrists in his left hand, rearing back and punching a hole through the center of the headboard with his right, sending wood splinters in every direction. “Mine. You’ve always been mine.”
Roksana’s body met with her heart, forming some perfect, terrifyingly fated constellation and pleasure cleaved into her like velvet teeth. Tears scalded the backs of her eyelids and her womanhood pulsed and seized around Elias’s tunneling erection, her thighs trembling out of control. With her arms held behind her back and Elias baring down on her with his full weight, she was at the mercy of pleasure and it took advantage, digging its claws in deep so she could do nothing but scream and work her hips, hoping to give Elias an ounce of the bliss he was bestowing on her.
Declarations crowded in her throat, dying to be spoken out loud, but instead she chanted his name on repeat, hoping he would interpret her correctly. “Elias, Elias, Elias…”
For long moments, there was only Elias and his slapping entries into her body, his animalistic snarls, and then his hand shot out, reaching through the center of the broken headboard, his grip turning white, his body shaking, shaking—
“Ahhhh, fuck. Roksana. My mate, my life,” he gritted out, his hips trapping hers to the mattress for one long grind after the other, liquid heat pouring into her and satisfying something deep and elemental inside Roksana. Your mate is satisfied, purred a voice, intoxicating her, filling her with the ultimate satisfaction, whether her mind accepted it or not. “Roksana, baby, I feel you milking me. I feel it.” His hand left the headboard and without warning, he yanked Roksana back onto her knees to receive several hard thrusts, a rough spanking to her right butt cheek. “Now take back what you earned. Take it all.”
“Yes, Elias,” she breathed, her body going limper by the second, but pride keeping her upright, loving the sense of being filled by proof of his satisfaction. “Mine.”
“Yours,” he agreed gruffly, intensity ringing in his voice.
Finally, Roksana lost her battle with fatigue and melted down onto the bed, barely able to keep her eyes open in the haze of such potent relief. The last thing she remembered was Elias pacing at the foot of the bed naked, fingers ripping at the ends of his dark hair, before he eventually dressed and left the room.
Uncertainty over what the next day would bring normally made it impossible for Roksana to sleep, but the unknown seemed to take pity on the slayer just this once, yawning wide and swallowing her whole, the words you’ve always been mine echoing in her mind.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Elias stepped out of the bedroom and closed his eyes, restraining himself against the need to wheel back inside and have her again. Consume her again. Again. He would never get enough of the paradise she’d just given him. But with her delicious scent baptizing his skin, he was raw and reborn at the same time. Caught between heaven and hell. He was highly attuned to Roksana’s energy, and while she’d abandoned herself to the attraction between them in a way that his body would crave with desperation until his final hour, the inner conflict he sensed inside her made him restless.
Using his heightened hearing, he tuned into the conversations happening throughout the vampire hold. Two floors down, some of the guards were making bets about which team would win the Premier League championship, layered over the sound of a broom scraping over stone. And there—Jonas and Tucker one floor above.
He turned and laid a hand on the door, making sure Roksana’s breathing had turned deep and even, before flying to the staircase and upward, stopping in the doorway of an unfamiliar study. Jonas and Tucker were seated at a dimly lit table in front of a bookcase, a half-finished tumbler of blood in Tucker’s grasp, Jonas peering down at some paperwork.