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Long, elegant fingers splay over my ribs, thumb brushing against the underside of my breast before he drags his hand lower. Over my stomach, my hip, the curve of my thigh.

“I think you might enjoy me tasting some of those secret places. I think they might make you wild for me.”

The flames in the hearth burn higher, hotter, and so do I. I’m a creature made entirely of fire, of embers and coals, a conflagration.

“But tonight I think I’ll mark you here.” His hand finds his mark once more, a firmer touch this time. “I think I like knowing the world can see it. I want them all to see it.”

The words barely penetrate the slow, syrupy pleasure swirling through me, and in some distant corner of my mind, I think I shouldn’t accept them. It should bother me more, the idea that it’s so easy for all the world to see I’ve been marked. I don’t know what it means. I should push back against it and takethe time to sort it all out, but those momentary doubts burn up with the rest of my resistance.

“Please,” I whisper.

A deep, dark chuckle against my skin. “As you command, my sweet, sweet Ophelia.”

He bites, and just like last time, a shock of pain blooms through me.

It’s breath-stealing, searing, and a strangled cry lodges itself in my throat. Cas strokes a thumb over the nape of my neck, his hand squeezing lightly where he’s holding me still. It feels like an apology, a touch meant to soothe away the hurt, even as that hurt fades in a few quick seconds.

Only to turn into something more wicked.

The pain of his bite melts into a rush of warmth that spreads from my throat, down my neck and chest and lower, settling into the bottom of my belly in a clawing, insistent heat.

Cas draws from me, a low rumble of pleasure breaking in the back of his throat, and that heat spikes into hunger, into need. I drag my fingers through his hair and squeeze, needing to have him closer, deeper.

It’s not enough. His bite. It’s not enough.

It’s just the beginning, a strike of flint and a cascade of sparks, but I need more.

Shifting restlessly in his lap, a low whine rasps out of me. Wordless want, a plea I can’t even begin to figure out how to form.

Cas leans back, lips and eyes shining crimson in the firelight.

“Do you need to come?”

I nod, desperate for it, shifting again as his hand lands on the fastening of my jeans. It’s a bit of an awkward tangle, but he manages to work them down my thighs, tugging them off me and tossing them to the floor.

He cups me over my underwear, hand warmer now, and lets out a low hiss.

“You scorch me, Ophelia.”

Those go next, pulled off and thrown carelessly aside, and when he brings his hand back between my thighs, there’s nothing between us but firelight and gentle darkness. His fingers work over my pussy, exploring, learning each and every way I like to be touched.

When he finally dips inside, a ragged, broken groan echoes in his chest. “Just soaked for me. I wonder if you’re sweet here, too.”

He doesn’t give me time to fully process those words before he brings his fingers to his lips, sucks them clean, holds my gaze with flames in his eyes that match the ones destroying me from the inside out.

“Delicious.”

The word is a shot of ecstasy in my veins as he lowers his hand and starts to tease me again. Light, slow circles around my clit, shallow plunges into my pussy.

Still not enough.

Not nearly enough.

“Cas,” I breathe. “Please. I need… I need…”

“I know.”

He doesn’t make me beg anymore, doesn’t make me ask for exactly what I crave.