Darkside Love Affair

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Darkside Love Affair Page 40

by Michelle Rosigliani


  We were burning.

  “The firestorm,” Charlotte murmured breathlessly, and both of us remembered our first night together, our first firestorm. But unlike that first time, tonight I was far from being gentle. Tonight, wildness raged through my veins, demanding to be set free.

  “It’s going to be much more than that, Charlotte,” I told her, my voice hardly a whisper, oddly controlled given my chaotic disposition. “It’s going to be a raging and rapidly spreading conflagration.”

  “Oh...” she panted and blushed fiercely

  It was ridiculous that I had ever needed a stupid race to consume my rage and disappointments. There was nothing that could compare to Charlotte. There was nobody who could quiet me down more effectively than she could. But first, both of us had to walk through fire. And in the end, I hoped, we would walk out cleansed and fortified—together.

  “I will understand if you ask me to leave.” I caressed her cheeks and let my head rest against her forehead. “But if you don’t, know that I won’t be sweet or gentle. I can’t tonight.”

  “I would never ask you to leave.”

  She brushed her lips against mine with heartbreaking gentleness as if she wanted to fight off my dark side with her tender, incandescent power. Yet, her body gave her away. My hands gripped her arms, and she jerked abruptly, shivering as my eyes found hers.

  “Don’t fear me,” I pleaded, massaging her flesh while I aligned my body against her. “Even blinded by rage and utterly uncontrolled, I could never hurt you, sweet Charlotte.”

  “I know. We are here tonight because I trust you. I trust you even when you are blinded by rage and utterly uncontrolled.”

  I flashed her a grateful smile, and she beamed back, hunger suddenly entering her hot gaze. Then I took a step back, appreciating her half-naked figure. She was soft and tempting, and she owed me something.

  “You remember my prize, love? I’d like to collect it.”

  Charlotte gasped in disbelief, or was anticipation that made the elegant column of her neck convulse as she swallowed heavily? Under my fingertips, her skin burned hotter, and her big eyes regarded me expectantly, nervously. I brushed my fingers against her lips, a last gentle gesture before madness seized me, then I stepped back until a safe distance separated us.

  At the sudden separation of our bodies, Charlotte blinked stunned, reaching for me before she dropped her hand and looked uncertainly around herself. Mixed feelings merged inside me. While I always wanted her to be absolutely comfortable with me, I enjoyed immensely the confusion and nervousness I caused her.

  And I planned on exploiting that nervous anticipation that made her shiver under my penetrating stare. I was going to use her uncertainty as an aphrodisiac until she would detonate underneath me, and her fire would become my own, until we would be both consumed by it.

  “Undress, please.” She hesitated and cast her eyes downward as if she was embarrassed, but between us, there were going to be no barriers and no embarrassment. “Charlotte?” I pressed. She gave a light start that had me frowning in response.

  My fingers itched to undress her myself, but if I touched her, I would take her like a savage before she was even suitably undressed. So I focused on my breathing and watched her as she brought trembling hands to the collar of my shirt and unfastened the buttons.

  She was brave and beautiful, and her eyes were kind and loving as they watched me without blinking. Chewing on her lips and breathing raggedly, Charlotte pushed the shirt open with a feather-like touch that I almost felt on my own body. When the shirt dropped to the ground, I realized with increasing enthusiasm that she was bare save for her panties.

  “Leave them,” I ordered hurriedly when she dipped her thumbs beneath the lace. My voice came out coarse and harsher than intended. I wanted to pull those panties off her myself, with my mouth, while she wriggled under the intimate caress.

  I looked over my shoulder at the hallstand where a beige trench coat, a denim jacket, and a handful of scarves were hung. I smiled wickedly to Charlotte’s visible puzzlement, then I headed for the rack and pulled free the sash of the trench coat. The strap felt smooth and harmless enough under my fingertips but completely unyielding just as I wanted.

  “What’s that for?” Charlotte asked in a whisper, her chest rising and falling with erratic breaths that had the sanctuary of her mouth open in invitation. I groaned.

  I could feel her emotions as if they were my own. She eyed the sash skeptically, but I was glad that fear did not taint her eagerness. I stalked toward her until the peaks of her breasts skimmed against the front of my shirt, then I let my forefingers graze the inside of her arms. The moan she let out was a sweet, seductive lullaby.

  “Do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off you?” I stroked her feverish lips with my thumbs, and instinctively, she leaned into my touch, craving more. Always more. I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her forehead before lifting her head to face me. “I want to tie you up, and then I want to set your body on fire. I need you to be still for what I have in mind for you.”

  “I want to set you on fire too.”

  “You do, baby. You’ve had me in flames ever since that Friday night. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and believe me, I’ve tried.”

  I stroked her forearms, from her elbows to her wrists, making her nibble on her lower lip and shift from one foot to another. She inhaled harshly as I brought her hands in front of herself, circled her wrists, and tightened my hold enough to make her aware of her defenselessness. I wanted her open, exposed, and completely at the mercy of the passion that devoured us from the quiver of our flesh to the depths of our very souls.

  “Trust me,” I urged, kissing each knuckle in turn before wrapping the sash around her wrists and binding them together. I clutched her hips and steered her backward to the glass-topped tea table in front of the couch. When Charlotte understood my intention, she started shaking her head frantically. “Lie down,” I whispered, intentionally low and husky.

  “Marcus, it will break.”

  “It will hold. And soon enough you’ll enjoy the coolness of the glass.”

  Hesitating but visibly intrigued, Charlotte lowered herself to the cold smoked glass with the unthinking grace of a queen. My gaze stuck on her breasts and the mouthwatering manner they bounced as she moved.

  I circled the table as she ever so slowly lay down and regarded me with hooded eyes, then I kneeled beside her head and quickly tied both ends of the sash to the wooden legs of the table. The almost naked sight of her took my breath away. She was bound and vulnerable, and yet, I was her slave.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Tight. Inescapable.”

  “Don’t be afraid,” I pleaded when I noticed the breathless nature of her voice but couldn’t contain a smile. She shook her head and moaned. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Marcus, don’t leave, please.” Her head snapped up, and her eyes turned huge in her skull.

  “I am not leaving. No man in his right mind would ever leave you, let alone like this. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Charlotte...”

  Three words scalded my tongue and tingled my lips. I was afraid of what she could do once in possession of the knowledge those words would bring, but I was terrified that the feelings I had for her might not be enough to keep her.

  I padded to the kitchen and returned before Charlotte even had time to get properly accustomed to her bindings. Curiously, she watched me place two large bowls by the table and struggled to crane her neck to see their contents.

  “Curious, love?” I winked teasingly but did not let her see the hot melted chocolate or the contents of the other bowl which were colder and less fragrant.

  “No. It’s chocolate and cinnamon,” she beamed cockily, looking as if all her nervousness had disappeared.

  I faked a displeased frown but couldn’t suppress a satisfied grin of my own as I looked at the second bowl. She was never going to gue
ss what it held.

  “I don’t appreciate that you ruined my surprise, but I promise to give you a reward if you guess what it is in the second bowl.”

  “Clue?” she asked after inhaling several times and smelling nothing.

  “No clue.”

  “Raspberries, maybe?”

  “No. Last chance, Charlotte.”

  Her brows knit in concentration and soon enough in frustration. It was a little mean making her guess something I knew she would never be able to.

  “I don’t know,” she whined.

  “Then no reward, sugar.”

  I straddled the table and Charlotte’s body, then I assaulted her mouth without kindness or restraint. She strained against the sash and arched upward so her breasts pressed against my chest, taunting me.

  I was a fool for ever thinking that I could tame her. She was a prime specimen of female wildness.

  “You are so sweet, so intoxicating.”

  Reluctantly, I disentangled my lips from her and straightened enough to whip my sweater off. Charlotte’s greedy eyes roamed my bare chest, then she drew her wet, rosy tongue along her inflamed lips. She was making me burn, and I intended to extend the same courtesy.

  I climbed off her, licking my way down her body, past her ribcage, and around her navel until my mouth reached the band of her panties. I glanced at her from beneath my eyelashes, chuckling at her shocked, dazed expression, then lewdly traced my tongue against the sensitive skin that bordered the black lace of her panties.

  “Marcus—” she moaned low in her throat and threw her head back against the glass top. She writhed and started burning slowly, brilliantly.

  “Look at me,” I rasped, making her moan again and press her legs together.

  As she obeyed, her pupils dilated, and the delicious cinnamon of her eyes caught the shade of dark chocolate. I grasped her knees and pulled them apart, not granting her the relief she sought, then I clenched my teeth around the flimsy material of her undergarments and tore.

  “I intended to blindfold you, but I believe I prefer you to watch everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes.” I nodded slowly, assessing her reaction. She was breathless, and the flames were merciless as they embraced her, offering her no rest, no peace.

  I straddled her waist again, my feet firmly planted on each side of the table and my gaze shamelessly studying her, learning her. Then I finally picked up the chocolate bowl and dipped my finger in the warm, viscous substance.

  “Want to taste?” I asked her, showing her my chocolate-coated finger. When the first drop of chocolate fell on Charlotte’s belly, she jerked forward.

  “Mm—yes.”

  “Mm—but you didn’t guess what’s in the second bowl, so no reward for you,” I teased and dipped my finger into my own mouth sucking it clean. Her cheeks turned crimson, matching the superb hue of her nipples.

  I bent and flattened my mouth against her neck, pursuing the spot where her pulse pounded furiously, leaving chocolate stains in the wake of my kisses. She wriggled underneath me, but her movements were not born out of the desire to evade me but to attain more pressure against her fevered flesh. So I obliged her.

  Dipping my fingers into the chocolate bowl, I coated my hands up to my wrists with the sinful liquid and placed them on Charlotte’s body.

  Then I really touched her.

  I caressed her neck and traced the sublime contour of her shoulders and collarbone. Peppering kisses over her quivering mouth, I dragged my hands down to the full shape of her breasts, groaning as a whimper rolled from the depths of her throat.

  The rosy peaks of her breasts were especially sensitive. They stood out brazenly against the dark chocolate, inviting me to roll and tease them between my fingers. She moaned loudly, her breath hitching and her eyes rolling in their sockets as her uninhibited body thrashed and sought the coldness of the table’s glass top.

  It was her body guiding me, asking me for more, instructing me which patterns to create across her supremely exposed flesh. I stroked the underside of her breasts and placed feather-like touches along her ribs only to return and mold her breasts between clenching, ravenous fingers.

  “It’s too much,” she pleaded, her eyes wild in her face. She pushed her thighs upward, putting pressure on my overly sensitive shaft.

  “Not enough,” I warned her and thrust her legs back onto the glass tabletop.

  As I lowered my mouth to hers, my eyes never left her. If she could only understand what she was doing to me. If only my dark, turbulent feelings were enough for her.

  My tongue stroked insatiably inside her mouth until the only taste filling me was purely Charlotte. I nibbled on her lower lip, leaving her breathless. Facing away, she granted me access to her marvelously stained neck. I licked at her flesh furiously, cleaning the chocolate stains and feeding her tiny melted bits between voracious kisses.

  I was slowly reaching the point where my control would shatter and teasing wouldn’t be enough. I caught her stiff nipple between my lips, stroking, licking, and sucking it clean until it turned into a round pebble in my mouth.

  “You are the perfect dessert now. What should I do to you?”

  With my mouth open, still hovering over her naked breast, I looked up to witness the most breathtaking expression a woman could have.

  She was flushed, somewhat ravaged, and profoundly entranced. Her eyes mirrored flames, and her jagged breaths spoke the words she was too overwhelmed to utter. She was prey to the conflagration we were creating. She was beautiful, and she was mine.

  “Tell me, Charlotte.”

  “Lose control,” she replied, her voice so soft that it felt like a dream.

  And it was time I did exactly that.

  Chapter 31

  Charlotte

  His politeness did not deceive me. He was on the brink of an all-consuming explosion. Roughness radiated from his very pores and shone like wildfire in his eyes. Once he truly let loose the beast within him, there was going to be no politeness and no chivalry.

  Placed between my parted legs, Marcus stretched to unbind the sash from around the wooden legs of the tea table while still leaving my hands tied together. He curled his hands around my hips, gripping just enough to make me aware of his power, then circled my waist, plastering me against his heaving chest. In a single fluent movement, he removed me from the table and pushed me on the couch, nestling my body between the cushions.

  “Keep your hands above your head,” he instructed sternly, his voice bare of control.

  I was imprisoned by his intensely focused gaze, controlled as if I were a marionette and he was the master puppeteer, pulling my strings and bending me to his will. With eyes locked on mine and a tongue that could drive a woman insane dancing across his lips, Marcus caressed my naked body and shaped my legs with his tough-skinned hands. Then the touch was gone, making me whimper in protest and twist my body in search of the glorious feeling of his skilled fingers.

  Marcus leaned away and pushed his hand into a bowl, producing a sharp, clicking noise, then he slipped his hand between my closed thighs, making me yelp in surprise. Contrasting with the molten chocolate that had brought my body to a fever pitch, his touch was freezing cold now, and his crooked grin was obnoxiously pleased.

  “Ice,” I gasped. “The second bowl—it’s ice.”

  “To cool you down,” he murmured, still grinning mischievously.

  “No, Marcus, don’t—”

  He dipped his hands in the ice bowl once more, this time picking up shards of ice and caressing my squirming body with the ice in the palms of his hands. It was so unexpected, so cold, and yet, it wasn’t cold at all. In fact, his touch scorched me as if my body was malfunctioning, unable to correctly identify each stimulus.

  Marcus unzipped his jeans, gazing into my eyes as he pushed his boxers down to his knees. He knew what he was doing to me, and he was doing it with a vengeance. His fingers locked around my ankles, and he draped my legs over h
is shoulders. Then his hands were on my hips, and he shoved forcefully into me, pushing me backward on the sofa.

  “I want you undone, Charlotte. I want you as out of control as I am.”

  Marcus pressed a freezing finger between my thighs and picked up a senseless rhythm that had me wailing in abandoned release and thrashing between the scratchy material of the sofa and his untamed body. I felt boneless, robbed of strength, but not remotely appeased. The fire within me could only be placated once the flames leaping high and wild in Marcus would quiet down too.

  “I am not done,” he rasped and went on even wilder than before.

  “I know,” I whispered, and though he had ordered me to keep my hands above my head, I disobeyed.

  As I placed my tied hands on his chest, feeling his raging heart, Marcus didn’t protest. He watched me transfixed, almost tortured as he pummeled inside me with a ferocity that should have terrified me. And yet, the wilder he grew, the more he assuaged a deep-rooted need inside me.

  While our desperate exchange continued, I connected with him on a level that united us beyond our carnal joining. I could be for him a refuge in the storm and chaos of his world. I could be the solace he frenziedly strived for when nothing else comforted him. And he could be the strength that I lacked. He could be the pillar that supported my world.

  Even my legs were sensitive. When Marcus turned his head and grazed his teeth against my calf, I gave a start, which made me all the more aware of his possessive flesh sliding against me. He scattered open-mouthed kisses on my knee, the length of my calves, the soles of my feet, then bent, taking my mouth just as madly as he was taking my body.

  I threw my head back, powerless before him and the sensations escalating within me. I felt his tongue on my throat and his lips trembling on my skin, then his teeth dug into my flesh. I heard his smug laughter as he assessed the mark he had put on me. The bite of pain, as well as the unexpected sensation, triggered another explosion that made my body quiver uncontrollably and a moan lodge in my throat.

  Marcus couldn’t hold back much longer, either. I clasped his face between my hands and urged him down, where my lips nursed him through his tempest. Panting, he rested his head on my chest and shut his eyes. He released my hands and kissed each one in turn. In the end, we fell in a sweaty, exhausted pile on the floor.

 

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