I blinked the haze away, and then slowly shook my head. I moaned when another finger slipped inside me.
“Why not?” he asked. “I know that stablehand would have tried.”
His thumb brushed over a sensitive part of me, and I sucked in a breath. If my thoughts weren’t in a mindless haze, I would have stopped to consider what came out of my mouth. But I just didn’t care anymore; at this moment, I would’ve told this man anything he wanted to know. “He wasn’t you,” I breathed, arching my hips to move against him.
He hissed a curse. “Why did you drop your dress at my feet, Calamity? Why not another man’s?”
I shook my head, the languid pressure building and building to a burning flame inside of me, and could only manage, “Only you.”
He groaned against my neck, and with a blink, the alleyway morphed into his room in the palace. A whoosh of air and my dress was over my head, the softness of the mattress hitting my back as his body came down on mine. The heavy weight of him had me arching my back, pressing against him tighter as his mouth caught my own.
He kissed me hard, and my hands found his wrists on either side of my head. The smooth leather of his jerkin brushed my breasts with his every move, and it sent shots of pleasure straight between my legs.
He moved down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, a flutter of warmth erupting in my stomach. Moving to the other, he flicked a nipple with his tongue before sucking; a shot of pleasure raced through me. He did it until I was lightheaded, as if he had all the time in the world. We both knew we didn’t, though.
He trailed kisses down my stomach, and anticipation shot through my veins when I realized where he was going. My eyes rolled back, my fingers digging into the sheets at the first hot, wet, touch of his mouth.
My fingers threaded through his hair, pushing and pulling him without any sense of direction, my only thought sating this fire inside me. I arched my hips, the sounds of his rough breaths, taking away any reservations I had.
The pressure expanded, close to bursting. A guttural moan escaped my lips as his fingers slid inside me. And then he sucked—no, it was too much. I shattered, warmth sizzling throughout my body, and then flooding with languid heat.
“I knew there was a purpose for your mouth,” I said breathlessly as he trailed kisses back up my stomach. I yelped when he nipped my breast, and then sighed when he soothed it with his tongue.
His gaze was dark, hazy, as he came up to kiss me. I pulled at the buttons of his jerkin, undoing a few, but unable to get them all while he kissed me, his arms resting by my head. I wanted to see him, to run my hands over him. To trace his scars and brands.
He pulled back to his knees, getting the rest of the buttons himself. He watched me as he did it, his gaze heated. “You’re so beautiful it’s unreal, you know that?”
I stilled at his serious and rough voice before a sudden warmth flooded my chest. I’d never heard such admiration from him before, and a sudden shyness overwhelmed me. I swallowed under his stare, speechless.
His lips tipped up at the corners as he pulled his jerkin off. “Interesting. Now I know what will keep you quiet: compliments.”
I only looked up at him, feeling subservient for the first time in my life.
He cursed before dropping to his forearms and capturing my lips with his.
My hands came to the smooth muscles of his back, a moan escaping me when the hard length of him aligned perfectly between my legs.
His heavy weight lay against me, his mouth undecided between my neck, breasts, or lips, with the maddening sensation of his hips grinding against me.
“Weston . . .” I moaned when I couldn’t take it any longer. I didn’t care if I had to beg for it.
My mouth went dry when he sat up, undid his pants and pulled them off. I hadn’t really gotten a good look at him the last time, and now that I was . . . no wonder that had bloody hurt.
I wasn’t satisfied with perusing him just yet when he came back down on me, gripped my thigh, pushed it up to my stomach before I choked out a breath as he slid in. And in. So deep. The sting was minimal; the feeling of fullness so new, yet so incredibly right. Like I’d just realized how empty I’d always been.
He groaned so rough, his gaze running from my face to between our legs. And then he began to move. Pleasure sparking with each thrust. My hands gripped his arms, feeling a rush that I got to touch him any way I wanted.
With my legs wrapped around his waist, he found a perfect rhythm.
He gripped my face, kissing me soft and lazy, and I melted into his touch, into the pressure of his body on top of mine.
“Weston?”
He kissed down my throat, a palm gripping a breast. His thumb brushing a nipple back and forth, and I completely lost my train of thought.
“Calamity?” he echoed me.
His mouth was on my breast, his teeth grazing—
Ah, I could die from this. Happily.
He came up to kiss me, whispering against my lips, “What were you going to say?”
“Oh—um,” I blinked the haze away, trying to remember what it had been, but it was incredibly hard when I felt impossibly full as he moved slowly inside of me. “I thought you didn’t like it when I talked?”
“I’ve realized I like it all right when I’m deep inside you.”
My eyes widened, a blush warming my cheeks at his crassness. He chuckled softly from seeing my expression, and then suddenly, a thicker air surrounded us like it knew what I was going to say.
I swallowed. “You’re still leaving.”
He pulled back slightly, looking at me thoughtfully, running a thumb across my bottom lip. “Yea. I am.”
An ache started in my chest. “Before you go . . . I want you to show me.”
He watched me, waiting for me to explain while a moment from the past played in my mind.
“You’ve no idea what I have imagined doing to you,” he said roughly.
“Maybe I should show you.”
My heart beat heavily, and I didn’t know why—he was already inside of me. But I realized I was just a girl who was completely new to this, underneath a man who wasn’t. I didn’t know what I was asking for, but I needed it. Wanted his marks on my skin so that this moment could follow me around for days. I wanted him to be my first everything.
“Everything you’ve imagined doing to me,” I breathed.
He came up from my neck he was nuzzling, a dark gaze settling on me. For a moment, he was so still, and then he pulled back from me. My heart beat in unease as I watched him walk away.
When he grabbed a blade off the desk, my eyes widened. What had I asked for? I shook my head frantically. “I didn’t mean something . . . like that.”
His gaze was almost amused as he walked toward me. I backed up, trying to escape, but he grabbed my ankle, pulling me in one yank to the end of the bed.
“I take it back!”
“You always jump to conclusions, don’t you?”
My brows knitted, but then I winced at a small cut he made on my thigh. I realized then what he was going to do when he caught a few drops of blood in his palm.
My eyes widened as he backed away from me, heading to the terrace.
“No!”
I jumped to my feet, grabbing his arm to stop him, but he only pulled me with him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, planting my feet on the floor, but that only got me jerked along.
“Dammit, Weston. No!”
But he already took the first step on the terrace, completely naked, while I stayed in the room. My grandmother was supposed to be coming soon—I couldn’t imagine what she would think if she looked up and saw me bare on a palace terrace with a naked Titan. Well, I guessed I could imagine the conclusion she would come to.
Irritation, expectation—they flowed through my veins as he held his hand over the railing, letting a drip fall to the ground below.
I backed up as he turned around and came toward me. My eyes narrowed on him, and then the first of the
change began—burning, darkening, blackening. A rush traveling through my bloodstream, dark and heady. A flame lighting it, shooting like an oiled wick within my body. The burn was agony, sharp torment, until it faded and faded, allowing me to suck in a deep breath.
When my gaze cleared on Weston, anger rushed me, and I picked up the first thing I saw and threw it at him. I didn’t notice it had been one of his blades until it stuck in the wall beside him.
He stood there, flicking his gaze to the knife, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Thought I taught you how to throw better than that.”
I wasn’t amused—the dark scratched at my chest, ached, burned. I felt the awareness behind my eyes, the lightness of my body, and I forced the feelings down, down, down, until I appeared normal. I wouldn’t be a slave to this feeling. I could control it—I had to.
“I told you not to do it,” I bit out.
He lifted a shoulder, taking a step toward me. “You needed to. I got it done.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve done my research.”
“Was this before or after you killed my Superior Sisters? You’ve sure been putting yourself in my business, haven’t you?”
His eyes darkened a bit as I took a step behind the desk. “Your business is my business.”
He was wrong. Not with this dark swimming inside me. It was itself. Not me, but not him. It chafed, trying to push itself to the forefront, and I felt myself sway at the lightheaded sensation. I gritted my teeth. He did this to me. I picked another one of his blades off the desk, glancing up to see him watching me with that darkly amused look. I hated it.
I went to show him how well I could throw a knife, when he was suddenly at my back, gripping my wrist tightly until I dropped it.
The short pain pissed me off. My body went incorporeal, and I took a step back, passing right through him.
It must have felt strange to him because he sucked in a breath; I could even see goose bumps on his arms. And then I did what anyone would do—I picked up a vase sitting on the desk, and I smashed it on the side of his head.
Ceramic shattered, falling to the floor around him.
He went deathly still.
And then I realized that smashing a vase on Weston’s head, was the equivalent to poking a bear with a stick.
Before I could blink, my front was shoved against the cool stone wall, the heat of his body at my back. Frustration ran through me at the rough manhandling. But then one of his arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me—and I choked out a breath as he slammed into me. I gasped, and smacked my hand on the wall, trying to adjust to the sudden invasion. “That hurt,” I choked out.
“You smashed a vase on my head,” he growled.
“You deserved it!”
He moved inside me, and my eyes rolled back at the overwhelming pleasure. My feet weren’t touching the floor, and I wrapped my ankle around his calf, bracing my hands on the wall.
So full.
I couldn’t even think around how impossibly full he filled me, but then he pulled out and turned, dropping me on the desk. My teeth clanked together at the rough movement, but before I could protest, he shoved my back flat against the desk, keeping his palm between my breasts, and thrust hard inside me. I groaned, arching my back.
And then my thoughts diminished, my blood heating as he moved in a fast rhythm that made me see stars. I couldn’t move with his hand holding me down, and it was utterly consuming, almost overwhelming. Perfectly so.
I held the edge of the desk, his heavy gaze meeting mine before he pulled me by the back of the neck to meet his mouth. The kiss was wet and messy, warmth shooting straight to my heart as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
I moaned when his hand went between my legs, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing that spot until the stars at the back of my eyes exploded, a warm shudder running through my body from fingers to toes.
He groaned, rough and deep, right in my ear, and it sent goose bumps across my skin, before slowing, stilling.
Our heavy breaths filled the air for many moments until he broke the silence.
“Everything I’ve imagined, huh?”
I blinked, my muscles lax and my body so heavy. He’d had me against a wall, on a desk, and faster than I thought was probably considered appropriate—and that wasn’t it?
I realized my thoughts were now clear to him when a sly smile pulled at his lips. “Ah, Princess,” he said darkly, “it might take me a year to get through all that, but I’ll try to squeeze as much as I can into one night.”
Ah, shit.
I’d never understood what I had asked for, or maybe I would have given it a second thought.
She sat on my lower back, the soft pad of her finger tracing the Wolfson crest brand in between my shoulder blades.
I was only lying here, letting her hair brush my sides as she leaned over me because, Shadow or not, I thought I needed to give her a break. She was new to this, and I wasn’t exactly gentle. But hell, she asked for it with that fucking vase.
Though she was only getting a short pause—because she was naked, straddling my back, the warmth between her legs burning my skin.
This woman was a liability. I felt high, attuned to everything she did, every noise she made, that I couldn’t pay attention to my surroundings. It unnerved me, went against everything that had been beaten into me. And I would surely get both of us killed if I indulged myself in this often.
The truth was, I had to leave. Because if I stayed, this was what would consume my time. This would be my focus in every aspect of my life.
If I stayed, my brother would be dead the instant I lost my humanity. Calamity would be chained like a pet to my bedroom wall; even if I gave her my blood to protect herself from me, she would be bonded to my side. I would find a way to keep her—I knew it stronger than anything else. And who knew what I would do to her, with how irrational she made me even now? Maxim would be next to go—though who the fuck was I kidding? The bastard could rot.
I would have Titan at my command, and the world to destroy at my fingertips. I knew how this worked, knew what I wanted to do sometimes, and I was far from fair. Though, I wasn’t so much concerned about the world than I was this dark-eyed woman on my back.
She traced over the wolf’s ears, down his eyes and nose, then whispered so softly, “That’s why he has sharp teeth, he’s a wolf.” My brows knitted while she spoke as if she was responding to herself, “No, he’s not . . .”
I couldn’t hear her thoughts anymore now that she’d blocked them from me, and it annoyed me. I wanted to know everything she thought, everything she did. I was about to question her about what she meant when she spoke.
“Weston?”
A small smile pulled on my lips because I fucking loved when she said my name in that soft, thoughtful way, like I was the only one who could answer her questions.
“Do you believe there is a place we all go when we die, where all our dreams come true?” she asked me.
I paused for a moment, wondering if she was worried those four months she’d spent in the dark and cold were what death really was. “I don’t think our dreams will still be the same after we die.”
I could practically feel her thinking.
“Like how you want to take over the world? You don’t think you’ll have the same desire when you’re dead?”
All right. Break’s over.
I twisted around, hearing her laugh as I tackled her to the mattress. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and I kissed her, intertwining my tongue with hers. “Why don’t we just stay in the now?” I said as I slid deep inside her.
She bit her lip, her dark eyes rolling back.
Yea, the now was exactly where I wanted to be.
“No more,” she breathed, half-heartedly pushing me away. “I don’t think I can even walk.”
I nuzzled her neck, waking her from an hour nap. What did she want me to do? Just sit around and watch her sleep naked in my bed? There was no way I was getti
ng any sleep with her here.
The church bell rang some time ago, letting me know it was after midnight. I was supposed to leave three hours ago, but it was my fucking ship—they could wait for me.
“You don’t need to walk,” I told her. “You just need to lie here.”
She laughed. “Go away. Surely you don’t bug all your women this much.”
My eyes narrowed at her nonchalant tone. I wanted to put my fist through a wall when I thought about her with other men, and she mentioned me with other women so casually? It annoyed the shit out of me.
She glanced up at me, frowning when she saw my expression. “What’s wrong with you?”
Did I want to go on a spiel about how I’d been with one other woman since I met her, and she happened to be blond with brown eyes? Fuck that.
I pushed away from her, getting off the bed and running my hands through my hair. This whole situation was fucked. I needed to go before this became harder than it already was.
I heard her crawl off the bed, and soon after her arms wrapped around my waist. She kissed the middle of my back. “You’re angry.”
No, not angry. Frustrated, it ran through my veins like a flame, settling in my chest, taunting me that I couldn’t do anything to fix this situation.
Her arms slid around me as she came to my front. I looked down to see her gaze on me. “Why so cross?” she asked, kissing my chest.
I was about to tell her my goodbyes, and ignore the dread tightening in my chest of leaving her anywhere alone, but then she pressed her lips to my chest again, her tongue darting out, and the heat went straight to my groin.
“I thought you could hardly walk.”
All she did was glance up at me with heated, innocent eyes. The look sunk its little claws in my chest.
I groaned, grabbing the back of her neck, and kissing her hard. I could feel the awareness in the back of my eyes, a heat running through me at the idea that, no matter what I had made her say earlier, she wasn’t mine.
Frustration and rage burned through my veins, and I tried to force the feeling down before she noticed.
The church bell rang once.
I had mere hours, and I was going to take advantage of each one.
A Girl in Black and White (Alyria Book 2) Page 28