by J H Spade
I'm out of my mind, moaning. He's a fucking god. The way he knows how to work me, bringing me to the brink to then slowly easing the pressure all while making bruising love bites over my back, and producing just enough pain as if he's about to swallow me whole.
“Darius, let go of my hands. I have to touch you, please!” I say in between ragged breaths.
I try looking over my shoulder. He immediately lets go of me. “No. No breaking my rules.” He struggles with an urgent, violent need as he steps back. “You’ve been bad! I'm taking precautions when I tell you not to open your eyes,” he says in a deep rough voice, getting out of the shower as I begin taking gulps of air because I didn't realize how close to coming I was.
I hear clothing tear and think of all the damage he may do to the bathroom.
“Get back in here before I shoot you down.” Turning, I move to reach for the handle on the shower door, prepared to kick his legs out from underneath him, so I can straddle him.
I take two steps.
I don't come close to reaching the door. He's already back inside the shower when I see the grim lines of his face, his eyes shining with an obsessive intent, and the visible tension coiled in the tight muscles of his body as we crash into each other, a tangle of limbs greedily gripping and holding on. One hand fastens tight around my neck, the other envelops my waist as he lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.
“Hold on to me. I don't know how I planned on keeping my hands off you, loving you like I do,” he whispers before taking a long piece of cloth he ripped from his shirt and ties it over my eyes, just when the room is shining blue again. My need cascades, and I faintly register the light, must be the storm outside.
My blood feels like it's boiling in my veins after hearing his confession. Absently, I think I can't breathe and get choked up, squeezing him tighter against me. His touch feels both gentle and rough as he begins pounding against my spread legs. Running his thick hard shaft, filling up all the space between my thighs with excruciating precision, along my wet pussy. There's no wall behind me. Just his riveting strength pushing me up and down, making me slip and glide over his body. On the edge, I'm hanging from his neck with my head thrown back, absorbed in reckless ecstasy as I push my hips to meet his. Feeling him slipping and pivoting to grind against me, I want to come so bad.
“Fuck, Darius . . . your body . . . so fucking good . . . just a taste!” I say as my lips fall to his neck.
Dimly, I hear him fiercely growl. “You were fucking Mine, from the first moment I saw you! Say it!”
“I'm yours.” I blurt it out with no doubt in my mind. My lips skim over his chin, “Don't make me lose my mind. I need all of you!”
His hands smoothly lower along my back to cup my ass, and he goes down on his knees, laying me down and moving over me with surprising gentleness. His left hand tenderly traces my lips while I can feel him grip his cock with the other. I try to snatch his wrist wanting to pleasure him myself, but his grip tightens, and I’m feeling him begin to feverishly work himself against my skin, “Let me.” I beg, trying to wrap my hand around him. He takes a grip of my jaw, and I feel thick drops sparingly fall over my lips. He's on one forearm, my hand is moving, slipping over his cock when the drops of his blood make their way to my mouth because he's using his tongue, tracing them with his kiss. I find the wound he inflicted on himself, a small cut on his lower lip, so I can savor the sinfully exotic taste of him. The moment he feels me about to crest, he lets go of himself. His finger enters me, and I scream his name working him harder, “Darius, Oh, God!” His lips open over my mouth as he steals my moans. In a supernova type of explosion, my mind shuts down, and I convulse around him, greedy to feel him come.
Upper body extended, creating a canopy, covering me with splashes of water bouncing off his wide back, he does a slow push up coming down over me.
I can feel jets of his orgasm stream over me, and he comes with a roar, watching me fly into another orgasm. Inserting a second finger, he keeps fucking me with his hand, making me feel like my first peak is going on forever. My back arches off the ground–hands rushing him, running them over his head because I hunger for his kiss again.
“Kiss me,” a plea on swollen lips.
He does, taking a firm grip of my hips, he breathes, “I'm not done with you.”
Bringing me closer, he continues to sparingly kiss me while winding down on my body as he’s fingering me. I scream, “I can't take anymore. Please, I need air!”
“No you don't. I'm all you need,” he rasps against my flesh.
My breath hisses out, through gritted teeth. I nod yes, because the reality is, as he’s gripping my thighs and spreading me wider to bury his face, air is overrated. I can live off of his fire.
With his fingers buried in me, they begin to curl, bringing my clit closer to his heated breaths while finding even more secret places I didn't even know existed. His thrusting tongue hits every nerve in my clit making me go blind with pleasure. I scream, “Oh, my God!” as I begin yelling on a third orgasm, and my inner muscles tighten, gripping him. I realize it feels like I've been coming forever. My head is shaking from side to side, my hands are buried in his hair. I'm drowning in pain-edged pleasure.
“Please. . . .” My voice is shaking with overwhelming ache. I hurt so much. I just want to feel him bury himself inside me.
In a flash, I'm on my knees pushing him back. He meets me, straightening the long columns of his thighs, kneeling in front of me. But our bodies clash with the sticky wetness of his cum, making us slip. I slide down on him because I need to have him in my mouth.
I feel the aftershocks of my orgasm sharpen when my tongue meets his sweetly-coated skin.
I cry out a moan as my eyes roll back in my head, wrapping my mouth around his cock. He throws back his head, his neck muscles tightening, shouting while fisting my hair, ruthlessly guiding my lips. I can barely get past his head, “Ease your jaw,” he says in a gruff voice while a soft hand presses my jaw.
Without question, I do as he says, and without hesitation, he sinks in a few inches as I moan. He leans back on one of his forearms, thighs spread. His grip on my head tightens as I speed up twisting while fisting his length.
I can feel his body tighten, getting close, but he's managed to keep control, and I won't have it. I need him as crazy and out of his mind as I feel.
My hands lift to his, which are fisting my hair, and I press on his pressure point. He immediately releases me. This is when I realize he's taught me so much; how to handle a gun and shoot, how to defend myself and look for weakness and pressure points, how to drive him crazy with my body. All this instinctual knowledge, my body and mind didn't let go of . . . I knew it was he who had put it there.
I begin to blindly lay myself between his spread legs, when he asks, “Is something wrong . . . did I hurt . . .?” He can't finish the statement when he realizes what I want.
“No . . . I just want you in my mouth this way. I'll be able to take more of you.” I press my head against the pebbled tiles as his solid thighs surround me, and I extend the long column of my neck, opening my lips. Expectantly, I imagine an upside down gorgeous view of his body that steals my breath. Images of him are always on the ready in my mind, like an 8mm film reel stuck playing intimate images in a dark theater, and I can't tell if they’re there from memory or fantasy.
“Fuckkkk! You want to fucking kill me,” he says, already beginning to climb my body on his hands and knees. “Hold on to me, if you need support,” I say jokingly. I breathe over the tip of his head as it traces drops of cum over my lips, seeking entrance. Taking a grip, I start easing him in. He’s so hard as he begins slowly fucking my mouth with easy strokes until I can adapt to his girth.
His hands shake as he spreads my legs open for him. His breathing is coming fast, more erratic. His grunts are sounding more repeated, every time going longer. My hands reach out, gripping his trim waist to push him deeper, his pounding becoming more forceful, blinded by
lust. I gag, he eases out, but I push him back in, deeper than the time before, numbing my throat.
He buries his face in between my legs wanting to punish me just as badly, or worse. I whimper with my lips stretched around his cock, knowing I can't take much more. He has my complete trust. That doesn't stop him, though. He’s quick to deal the final blow that will kill me, expertly parting my wet folds–his tongue dives deep, twisting without an ounce of mercy, not giving me a second to catch my breath. Spreading his knees wider apart, he thrusts his hips faster and harder chasing our orgasm.
Feeling his unrelenting body strain, about to snap from the pressure building in him, my sex clenches on his mouth. Hearing his yells against my pussy and the vibrations they cause feels like the best kind of sin. The skim of his teeth pierces my clit inducing an unbearably strong orgasm as it lances through me. My arms fly back to hit the ground as I try to hold on, my back arching, flying into the stars. One final hard thrust has him coming in my throat as I greedily drink him in.
As his pulsing lessens in my mouth, he falls next to me, coiling his arms around my waist and bringing me with him[23][24][25][26]. He places my back over his stomach, reaching, feeling his way,[27][28][29] he unties the cloth over my eyes. I'm in stupefied bliss unable to open them. I don't know how long we lay there before I notice, through the black curtains of my lids, the light has stopped from shining for the first time. Because I'd felt throughout all my blindfolded experience, the light shone, glinting in the dark like a distant galaxy in a night sky. The storm has died down outside as well. I tell myself this is good. It will make it easier to run tomorrow with improved weather. I might even give it a week since I'm better off learning the place. Find a way to get away when he's chasing a lead, so I don't have to hurt him. I love him. More than anything. But I have to leave, so whatever is after me doesn't find him.
He shuts the water off, gathering me in his arms as he stands, and carrying me out, so we can fall asleep in each other's arms.
He doesn't bother drying us off, just pulls off the covers, climbing into my bed. Laying me down, following my body and pulling me into the cocoon of his chest as he spoons me, he whispers, “You're not going anywhere. You're going to let me carry you through this. Because you were made for me, Emma.” Covering us both, we fall asleep wrapped up in each other.
Chapter _: Deadly Encounter
Within a few strikes of the clock’s minute hand and close to dawn’s illuminating rays–marking the beginning of a new day, my beautiful nightmare opens a rift in time and space, crawling past my bedroom door. Cloaked by night, he comes to stand over me impatient and watchful, eagerly spying as he begins pacing the length of my bed in hungry silence.
“Invite me in,” he calls out to me, seducing, repetitively knocking at my mind's gate with his cold caress. When I shrink in immortal fear, shivering into myself, and I give no answer, deep claws come screeching down the dark corners of my mind.
I frantically try to shake myself awake, absorbing the horror with every step he takes, feeling the heavy footsteps fall—my own death trap beside my mattress.
“You won't give into me here . . . while he still lays by your side, but if I take you back to a time when he didn't exist, you would give us a chance,” he fervently says, and everything around me magically replaces itself in tempo with the wildness ringing in my chest. Sensing the gradual shift of all things becoming different, his words sound like a threat well executed.
I can feel the cooling wind on my skin. My bed is no longer in a room, but in an open field scented with tuberose, and the cold mist caresses my skin, leaving wet dew drops to bathe my naked flesh. The blankets are gone, and I no longer have the fortitude of Darius's body by my side.
Out in the moonlit grassland of my mind, feeling too vulnerable, I worry my dream is about to take a turn for the worse.
My mind begins building stronger walls of steel, a fortress, keeping me safe and out of reach as long as I remain over my bed.
Awakening in this vast land, I open my eyes and kneel over the bare mattress, calling out, “What do you want!”
Some distance away, in the dead of night, I find the ghost of the mansion where Darius hides me from him, like two worlds coming together in my dream, yet I'm no longer where I'm supposed to be. Those walls have failed me somehow, no longer providing safety.
I am pulled into animalistic jade eyes, more predatory with every tug of my soul, leaving behind no humanity between us. Slanted and hidden within the branches of the dead forest in the canvas before me, I know he's blocking my path back to the house. He's licked his wounds, patiently waiting for me to walk into his trap, so he can open mine anew.
There's a devouring type of magnetism in his silent stare, making me further question why I'm here. How do I go back? But that doesn't take the focus away, make my enemy any less threatening or frightening. The expression in those eyes, speak too much of crazed yearning and retribution.
From the look, I understand these are my crimes I will be facing, be made to pay for, should I take a step down from my bed.
While I'm telling myself to wake up, I'm terrified by this dream that is hardly probable, yet feels so impossibly real. A dream where you get a premonition you're about to make a grave mistake, but can't heed the warning, either way; having no control to stop events from unfolding.
Too long, I fight, weighed by ropes of strain throughout my body while I keep resisting. The mattress begins to show signs of wear, tears from invisible claws marking their way to me. Without touching me, blood begins falling all around me, soaking up ruddy splashes of mud and blood on the torn mattress.
“Tell me who you are! Why . . . you're keeping me here?” I scream, heaving as terror rises, feeling heat spread out over my chest as my breaths fail me.
Even if I am afraid of uncovering the truth, I have to know what will happen.
“Come out, come out, Emmaley. And only when you do will it reveal itself. A parting gift. You once loved my gifts, though, you would never admit to it. Too immoral, a stain upon your pale flesh. Your innocence lost.”
“Who are you?” It’s a whispered call.
“Your only friend. He's misleading you.” He speaks of Darius, and now I fear who he is.
“You're mistaken, he loves me. He wouldn't.” Screaming into the night, with a sinking, lost feeling clouding my thoughts, I hesitantly bring my right leg over the mattress placing one pointed step on the soft ground. I’m angered by his words and suddenly willing to fight him.
Stepping out on my tippy toes, is when I feel it, the sting from a bite on the arch of my foot.
A seductive laugh fills the night. “Enjoy my gift, Love.”
Finally, my unwanted visitor relents, slamming shut my bedroom door. With a blast I’m back in my room, the loud slam of the door shaking me awake while I hear his steps as he scours the compound in search of a more willing victim.
I must have whimpered in fear when I tried to shake myself awake, because I suddenly hear, “Shhh, you're safe. Another nightmare, Angel?” Hearing Darius’s concerned voice, I nod in banked fear and shame—so much of it because I instinctively know I did something I shouldn't have. A slip of my foot, and now I suffer an ache running deeper than the bite left behind.
“Don't worry, I have you.” Darius’s voice settles through my mind as I feel him laying soft reassuring kisses over my temple.
I snuggle closer to him and the safety he so freely gives to me. His strong arms band around my chest in a possessive hold.
I feel him unbelievably hard, ready for me again, and hear his breath hiss, “Gods, I want you again. I won't ever get enough of you. But you're still so fragile.”
“No, I'm not. Especially if you need me.” Drowsily, I try to turn to kiss his lips, needing him even more because of my dream, but he prefers to sacrifice his needs for my comfort. “Sleep Emma,” his words a warm blanket immediately making me want to give myself to sleep. Even when I am trying to blink away how sleepy I feel
because I can’t let the dream go, I can’t escape the pressing weight of my tired body slam over me, guiding me to relent to his request.
Only when I feel at ease, protected by an embrace of skin and soft supple leather, does the chill of my skin, brought forth by the dream, lessen enough to allow for sleep to take me once again.
Next Day
Darius
I've come to check on Emma once again, and she still sleeps.
She sleeps like the dead, and this worries me.
Trying to keep myself busy throughout the day, I've moved more of my belongings into her room, not wanting to spend any time away from her.
The more time I let slip, unable to do anything else than watching the battered antique clock on her nightstand tick away, the more insane I think I'll go, seeing her so still. Her heartbeats are almost at a standstill, barely making a sound.
Sitting on her bed, rubbing my hand over my head, I think of the Lycan prisoner I have chained underground. I know I should use him as a punching bag. I should be extracting more information before I kill him, but I can't move from her side.
He was asking questions with Emma’s descriptions at one of the bars in town. Word got back to me, so I found him last night after following his scent to a shitty motel room. He's the closest anyone's ever gotten to us, but I have to find out who else may be privy to his actions.
Emma takes a breath, and my eyes quickly jump to her. I can't use magic to help pull her out, not until it's absolutely necessary. Magic leaves a signature, and Eros is too well-versed in spells not to find us if I do.
I frantically think of an alternative, of calling Jeffery–one of my most trusted soldiers in and asking him to give her his blood because I'm terrified the power in my blood has caused my worst fear to come true.