Page 37 of A Touch of Darkness (Chronicles of the Cursed #1)

The air is electric, charged with something I can’t name but feel deep in my bones. Every candle in the room flickers, their golden glow casting shadows that dance along the walls like whispered secrets. My heart thunders in my chest, and I wonder if Lucian can hear it, feel it, the way I feel everything about him.

I stand at the edge of something vast and unknowable, like the edge of a cliff where the ocean stretches endlessly below. And yet, I am not afraid. Not of him. Not of this. I’ve realized this is my choice. I know Lucian is worried that I’m being forced into this, but I’m not. Despite this being part of the only way I see out of this mess with the Solstice Society, I want him.

My God, do I want him.

He says we’ll be bound together, tethered, in a way. And I don’t fully understand what he means by that, but I do know there could be a worse fate for me.

He moves me to the center of the bed with ease, never once taking his eyes off me. His gaze is piercing, burning through my skin, but instead of wilting, I feel alive. Like my entire body is on fire, a livewire moving inside of me. His presence has always been like this—intense, magnetic, suffocating, but in the best way. I feel seen in ways that are terrifying and beautiful. From the moment I first saw him, even when I didn’t know what to do with the feelings I was having, it was always him.

“You’re sure about this, Sylvie?” he asks, his voice low as he looms above me, like the growl of a tempest waiting to break. His words hold the kind of gravity that pulls at something deep inside me, something that’s been dormant for too long.

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice trembling but resolute. “I’m sure.”

It’s not just the words—it’s the way he looks at me, as if I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. It’s the way his touch feels like fire and comfort all at once. It’s the way my entire being screams that this is where I’m meant to be, with him, in this moment.

I look at him, looking at me, and I see a thousand lifetimes in his eyes, and I want to be part of every single one. Being this close to him, sharing what we have, it only intensifies the hunger that’s growing for this man every second of every day I spend with him.

When he edges closer, I feel the heat radiating from his body, the sheer presence of him overwhelming in the small space between us. His hand lifts, hesitant, before he brushes his knuckles along my cheek. The gesture is so gentle, so reverent, that I feel my throat tighten.

“You are so breathtaking,” he murmurs, the words rough and raw, like they’ve been torn from some hidden part of him. “You are art, Sylvie. So rare. So exceptional.” His hair falls perfectly against his forehead, and I can’t help but think he looks like some kind of angel, and what a paradox it is.

I swallow hard, trying to find words, but they fail me. Instead, I let my hand move on its own, reaching for him, my fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, my eyes following, memorizing him. His skin is cool, but it sparks something warm inside me, something that builds and builds until I can’t take it anymore.

When I press my lips to his, it’s like the world tilts. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, testing the boundaries of this fragile, building thing between us. But then it deepens, and I lose myself in it, in him. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer, anchoring me as everything else falls away.

Time becomes irrelevant. There’s only Lucian, the way he holds me, the way his lips move against mine, the way his hands explore my body with a care that feels like worship.

I shift on the bed, the pillow too far down. He notices and lifts me effortlessly, his strength a constant reminder of the chasm between us, of all the ways he’s different. Yet, in this moment, it doesn’t matter. Nothing does.

As he better positions me, the world narrows to the press of his body against mine, the feel of his hands skimming over my skin, the way his breath mingles with my own. My heart races, but I don’t feel fear. Only anticipation. Because in this moment, with this monster of a man who is the most kind and gentle being I’ve ever come across, I want nothing more than to let go. To feel. To forget.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice strained, his forehead resting against mine as I feel the unmistakable bulge in his pants. “If you want me to stop, tell me now, Sylvie. Because if this continues…I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop. No matter how controlled I am.”

I shake my head, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Don’t,” I tell him. “Don’t stop.”

The words are barely a whisper, but they carry every ounce of longing, of need, that I’ve been holding back. And when his lips find mine again, it’s like a dam breaking.

I sit up and allow him to peel the white fabric from my body, exposing every inch of my skin, my nipples pebbled as I press my body against his, longing to feel my skin against his. His hands map the top half of my body like I’m a mystery he’s desperate to solve, and I find myself arching into his touch, craving him, needing more. He runs his palms along my breasts, studying every inch, finding my nipples and taking them between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging in the most delicious way that makes me moan on instinct.

He presses his mouth to each one as he lets out his own feral noise in response, his tongue tracing each delicate part of me and causing goosebumps to break out along my skin. I shiver, losing control and throwing my head backward as he gently sucks and twirls, paying mindful attention to each of my breasts as he hums his satisfaction with my body.

“Gods, you are exquisite,” he says as he shifts, resting backward on his haunches as he examines me from head to toe. No one has ever seen me like this—naked and vulnerable—but I’m not nervous like I thought. I feel absolutely no shame in my body, or in this moment.

The only thing surging through my veins is a desperate ache for the man in front of me. The one who makes everything else fade into nothing when he looks at me.

I unbutton his pants, my movements certain and precise as I slide them, along with his briefs, down his thighs and he moves to kick them off. My heart races as I take him in. He is everything. Absolutely everything. He spoke of art but his body is like a statue chiseled to perfection. My eyes trail down to his large, thick cock that seems to swell in size the longer I fixate on it. As my gaze roams over it, a fire ignites in my core, and all I can think about it how he’s about to tear me open and somehow heal me at the same exact time.

“Lucian,” I whisper, unable to take my eyes from his cock. “You are…”

He lets out a deep chuckle, and I know he understands my amazement over his size. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever even imagined. A perfect length and thickness, and I’ve never felt like a particularly sexual person, but in this moment all I can think about it wrapping my lips around him and letting him have his way with my mouth.

“There will be time for that,” he says, as though he’s reading my thoughts, but I know he would never cross that line. It must be written all over my face—how I’m already a fiend for his cock and it hasn’t even been inside of me. “Right now,” he says, looking at me with mischief glimmering in his eyes, “I need nothing other than to devour you. You are a temple, Sylvie. Mind, body, and soul. Let me worship every sacred inch.”

He looks to me for reassurance, which I give willingly, spreading my legs so I’m on full display. He takes me in, ravenous, and when his mouth meets my center, I see nothing but stars.

“God, Lucian. Oh, my?—”

Words fail me as he does as promised and worships every inch of my pussy. Licking and sucking and circling my bud with his tongue, then his finger, alternating between the two and giving me the most intoxicating high I have ever experienced.

“I’ve been a starving man every moment without you,” he says, coming up for air only to immediately continue working my cunt with his tongue. “I’ve dreamed about the way you taste in this lifetime.”

His words are like erotic poetry to my ears, causing the flames licking their way up my spine to burn higher, hotter. The way his five o’clock shadow scratches my thighs in the most delectable way has me on edge, and it’s all I can do to not clench my thighs together. He starts to suckle my clit, and I arch upward, my moaning turning into something entirely else, something animalistic, a noise that I’ve never heard myself make.

He begins stroking his cock, and I start to lose myself, feel myself tumbling over the edge of complete and total bliss, my core tightening as I buck my hips upward.

“Such a pretty pink pussy. It’s just for me, isn’t it, Sylvie?” he asks, and I love how dirty his mouth has become, it only heightens every sensation. I bite down on my lip, trying to pair pain with pleasure and stave off my impending orgasm, not wanting to end before we’ve barely began.

He slows down, licking slower, more deliberately, precisely, still stroking his cock and making my mouth water in anticipation. He leans back, just a little, just enough to give himself room to slowly, skillfully slip just one finger inside of my soaking wet pussy.

“Fuck,” he groans out, eyes not leaving my center as he slowly pushes in and out of me. “So fucking warm. So fucking wet. So fucking tight.” He gives me another look, his feral eyes meeting mine, and I know he’s once again asking if I’m okay.

“I am fine, Lucian. Please. Don’t stop.”

He grins wickedly and pushes another finger in, picking up pace as my juices coat his fingers, easily gliding in and out as he sucks on my clit in tandem. My breaths grow shallow as he continues, but just as I near the brink again, he pulls his fingers out of me and moves lower, pumping his cock faster as he pushes his tongue inside my tight hole, tongue fucking me to oblivion.

“My God! Lucian. I’m so close, I’m going to?—”

My entire body comes alive with pleasure as my orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, destroying me for any other man.

“That’s it, Sylvie,” he groans against me, relentless as he pushes his fingers back inside of me, coaxing every drop of my cum out before sucking his fingers into his mouth. His eyes roll back in his head as he tastes me, and I almost come apart all over again from the ecstasy on his face.

I cry out for him, needing him inside of me in the worst possible way. He has made sure I’m primed, ready, and now I can think of nothing other than his cock pounding into me.

“I want you inside of me, Lucian,” I tell him. “Please. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He looks at me, his stare devious, feral, animalistic. There’s something I haven’t seen before in his eyes. The type of lust I’ve only ever read about.

“There is no going back from this,” he says. “Once I sink my cock inside of your tight, hot cunt, you will be mine. Eternally.” He waits for my answer, but I don’t make him wait long, because the words are already slipping out before I can tame them.

“I’ve always been yours, Lucian. Always. In this lifetime, in the one before, and in all after.”

And with that, he lines himself up with my tender pussy and slowly, so fucking slowly, slides inside of me, pushing past the barrier until he bottoms out and I cry out in both pain and bliss. He covers my mouth with his and hastily spreads my lips apart with his tongue, fucking my mouth and pussy at the same time. I writhe beneath him, urging him to pick up his pace and end this slow torture, I want him fast. I want him hard. I don’t care how bad it hurts, the sting of his sizeable cock stretching my pussy a balm for my ache.

“Fuck, Sylvie,” he says, rearing backward and panting. “Tell me it’s mine.”

He slowly moves as I tell him what he asks, and as I fully believe it to be true.

I am his.

Because not only do I want him.

He has wholly ruined me for anyone else—and I am perfectly content with it.

He gently thrusts in and out of my pussy, and I can tell it’s taking every ounce of restraint inside of him to not fuck me hard and fast, how I want him to.

“You can fuck me harder,” I tell him. “You can take me however you want me.”

He pauses, his chest heaving as he claims my mouth once more, his fingers tugging at my nipple as he tries to hold back.

“Fuck me hard, Lucian.”

And fuck me hard, he does.

He takes my plea and magnifies it—thrusting in and out of me with merciless abandon. It hurts in both the worst and best way possible. I cannot imagine him not being inside of me, filling me to the brim.

“You are fucking everything, Sylvie,” he says, picking up pace as he circles my clit, and I pant out his name like a prayer.

“Fuck. Lucian. I’m going to come again. I can’t stop it. How?—”

He slams into me, bottoming out, and I let go as he says, “Never deny me your orgasm.” He doesn’t slow, if anything, he picks up pace even more, like he’s moving at super-human speed. He grabs my hips roughly and forces me down on his cock, impaling me, as I give him everything I have, as I drench his cock with the orgasm only he can give me.

“I’m about to fill you up,” he says, and I can’t help but practically drool. “Tell me where you want it.”

Fuck, this man is going to make me come for a third time just with his mouth.

“Sylvie, tell me…” he says, and I can tell he’s on the edge. “I’m so fucking close. Your pussy is strangling my fucking cock.” His voice is dripping with desire, dropping a string of obscenities as he grows closer to his climax.

My God. His mouth. I have never heard him speak like this. Not even close.

“Ask me to come inside of you,” he commands, his face reddening, his arms corded and straining.

“Come inside of me, Lucian,” I tell him. “I want you to fill me.” He presses his forehead to mine as he let’s go, and I immediately feel his impossible warmth as he does exactly that. His cock jerks inside of my tender, throbbing pussy, and he grunts, letting out a feral groan, his eyes rolling back in his head as I continue to buck my hips, milking every last drop of cum from his cock. It forces me over the edge for a third time, coming in time with him.

It's dreamlike. It’s not just physical—it’s something deeper, something that feels like a promise etched into my soul. The bond between us hums, alive and undeniable, threading through every touch, every kiss, every whispered word. Something surges through me, something I’ve never felt before. A rare feeling of immense power that I can’t control—as if fate is solidifying our bond.

We slowly start to come down from a high I have never experienced in my life, our sweat-soaked skin sticky and slippery as he shifts us both until he’s next to me and I’m wrapped in his arms.

I feel him everywhere, his presence overwhelming, consuming, but instead of fear, I feel whole.

Complete.