Page 34 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Ariel

I can’t believe he’s thinking about sex in the state he’s in. I know he’s trying to act like he’s fine, like the pain isn’t still clawing at him but I can see it. I see it in the way his breath catches when he moves, the way he tries so hard not to lean too much on me after the bathroom.

I felt the strain in his muscles, the tension in his jaw when he thought I wasn’t looking. And that soft, broken grunt when he sat on the bed nearly shattered me.

If I hadn’t seen him lying in a pool of his own blood two days ago, I might’ve believed his performance. But I did see it. I lived through the terror of thinking I was going to lose him.

The look on his face when I popped the first cherry into his mouth was so comical I almost laughed but I had to feign seriousness as I told him it was the doctor’s order. I should probably warn the doctor the next time he comes to change his bandage.

Now he’s giving me that wounded puppy look, that didn’t get what it wanted, as I continue to feed him. It stirs something deep inside me.

He’s being careful not pushing, just watching me with quiet hope, as if asking without words. And maybe that’s why I give in.

Maybe that’s why I let myself want him back. Because I do—so much it terrifies me. I want to feel him. To touch him. To remind myself he’s still here. That I didn’t lose him. That he’s real. Warm. Alive…

I release his cock from his pants, and it springs free like it’s been waiting for my touch. He sucks in a sharp breath as I wrap my hand around him.

His length is thick, hot, and pulsing beneath my fingers, the veins pronounced and ridged under my touch. My thumb and fingers don’t even meet around him—he’s that big.

I’ve never seen him this close before. Never touched him bare like this. Every time he fucked me, he was in control. He never let me explore, never let me touch him. But now…

His hand finds my nipple through my shirt, and I bite down hard on my lip to stop the moan from escaping as he teases it, rubbing and rolling until it peaks, sensitive and aching. Even injured, he still wants to take control.

I pause my hand on his length and move back, forcing him to let go of my nipple. He stretches toward me again, but I tap his hand away. “No touching,” I murmured.

He looks at me, brow furrowed like he can’t believe I’m serious. Like the idea of me stopping him is impossible.

Well, I’m giving him a taste of his own medicine. Now he knows what it feels like to be at his mercy when he fucks me.

Not that I haven’t loved every second of him owning my body. I have. But now… the roles are reversed. And I suddenly want to know what it feels like to make him beg.

To see how far I can push him when I’m in control. Who knows if I’ll ever get the chance again. “Do you want me to stop?” I ask, tightening my fist around his length.

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t try to touch me again but the look he gives me is lethal. Cold. Controlled. A silent promise: You’ll pay for this the moment I can move again .

A shiver runs down my spine, and I almost chicken out—almost. But I tell myself he can’t do anything right now. So, I add my other hand to his cock, stroking him with both, moving in tandem as I return his glare with one of my own. I dare you.

There’s a dark glint in his eyes before his head drops back, muscles straining in his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing with every sharp breath. I stroke him harder, faster, watching the way his body reacts—tight, trembling, desperate. He thinks I’m done with him. He’s wrong.

A bead of precum glistens at the tip of his cock, and a deep groan escapes him. His breathing grows labored, sweat starting to sheen across his chest. I keep going, feeling his hips lift, meeting my strokes.

His teeth clench. He’s close. And just when I know he’s on the edge, I stop. I pull my hands away completely. He gasps, chest rising and falling, eyes flying open in disbelief.

“Why did you stop?” he manages to choke out.

“I don’t want you to cum yet.”

“Kitten,” he growls, low and rough. “You’re playing with fire.”

I rise from the bed and stand in front of him, meeting his gaze. He’s pissed. Not at me, exactly but at the fact that I’m denying him what he wants.

That look powerless, hungry, undone makes— heat pulse low in my belly. I can feel myself getting wetter just watching him fall apart. I smirk at the look on his face before reaching for the hem of my shirt.

I pull it over my head slowly, watching as his gaze darkens, heated, hungry as I strip for him. My hands move to the waistband of my shorts, and I slide them down inch by agonizing inch.

I let them fall to the floor and step out of them deliberately, knowing how much it’s killing him not to touch. I see his fists clench at his sides, his restraint hanging by a thread.

I walk over to the bed and place my hand on his good shoulder, using it to anchor myself as I straddle him, my legs curled back on either side of his hip. I don’t break eye contact. Instead, I roll my already-wet center over his length, teasing him with slow, deliberate friction.

He moves to kiss me, but I turn my head before his lips can meet mine. The kiss lands at the corner of my mouth, leaving a wet trail along my cheek.

“No touching,” I whisper, reminding him softly as my hand glides from his shoulder to his jaw. I cup his face, letting my thumb brush over his lips. I expect him to try and suck it into his mouth.

He always takes control but this time, he keeps his lips sealed, watching me. Good. He’s finally starting to understand. I’m the one holding the reins now. “Open.”

There’s fire in his gaze. Defiance. Desire. But he obeys. I slide my thumb into his mouth. “Suck on it.” He closes his mouth around my thumb, sucking on it like a lollipop, his gaze locked onto mine. But I can’t hold his gaze anymore not with the way he’s looking at me.

I shut my eyes and moan softly as I grind my soaked pussy lips over his length, the friction making my thighs tremble.

The head of his cock bumps against my clit, over and over, each stroke more intense than the last. My hips begin to rock faster, chasing the orgasm building low in my belly.

One hand slide into his hair, fisting it tight as I yank his head back. My thumb slips from his mouth with a soft pop, and I replace it with my tongue, forcing his mouth open. I push my tongue into him, and he meets mine with equal hunger.

Our tongues duel pulling back, diving in again, each kiss deeper than the last. I ride the edge. I kiss him hard tongue twisting and tangling, breath mingling as I teeter right on the brink.

Then I break, moaning into his mouth as the orgasm crashes through me, my body trembling on top of him. When I finally come back to myself, I pull away from the kiss, breathing heavy.

His eyes are still on me— dark, needy. He hasn’t come yet. I lean in close, brushing my lips against his and whisper, “Soon.”

I hold his gaze as I lift my hips, reaching down to guide his cock to my entrance. Slowly—deliberately—I begin to sink down onto him. He closes his eyes like he’s trying to memorize every second of how it feels.

I lift again, letting him nearly slip out, then drop my hips, seating myself fully on him. I rock forward, my back arching, then roll back, using his shoulder and his hair for balance.

I can see the strain it’s taking for him not to touch me—it excites me. I roll my hips again, and he gasps, groaning deep in his throat. I continue my slow rocking, my breasts brushing against his chest each time I shift forward.

His breathing stutters, eyes squeezing shut, muscles bunching beneath me. He’s close I know it. Just when he’s about to come, I stop moving.

He opens his eyes, wide and desperate. I think for a second he’s going to use his good hand to grab my hips and force me to keep going. But instead, he just looks at me with pleading eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, voice ragged. “Please… let me cum.”

I don’t know exactly what he’s apologizing for but the look on his face makes me give in. I start to move again, faster now, rolling my hips in a way that makes him tense beneath me.

His hand finds my waist, helping guide my movements. I’m nearing my own orgasm, so I keep the pace up and down, grinding, rocking. I feel him swell inside me just before he lets go, spilling deep inside me with a guttural groan.

His release triggers mine, and I shatter around him with a strangled scream, collapsing against his shoulder. My body trembles, still pulsing around him with aftershocks.

When I come to, his face is resting in my hair. I lift my head to look at him and see the strain our session has taken on him. “You need to lie down.”.

He didn’t argue as I slipped off his length, helped him pull his pants back up, and adjusted the pillow behind his back. Once he was finally lying down, I checked his bandages to make sure the stitches hadn’t torn during our session.

When I reached the one at his waist, I saw a small patch of blood soaking through the bandage. Alarmed, I started to climb off the bed to call the doctor, but his hand caught mine, stopping me.

“You’re bleeding. I have to call the doctor.”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“I want to argue,”

“Stay… please.”

The look on his face is vulnerable, like he doesn’t just want me to stay in bed but in his life.

I want him to say it. I want to hear it from his lips so I can stop second-guessing everything I feel.

But instead of pushing, I choose to stay.

Maybe… maybe there’s still a chance for this to work.

He scoots deeper to one side of the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Lay beside me.”

Oh. He’s making space so I can lie on his good side. I slide under the covers and rest my head on his shoulder. His arm wraps around me, pulling me close until I’m practically molded to his side, half draped over him. Then he says something I didn’t expect.

“I missed you.”

My heart skips. Did he miss me… or just my body? There’s a pause, short but heavy, before he continues…

“I miss us,” he says, voice low and rough. “I know I’m no longer the same person you fell in love with. I’m twisted inside with a cold heart that warms up whenever it sees you.”

His chest rises with a breath that sounds like it hurts to take.

“I know I forced you into this marriage. Into a life of danger, blood, and power—everything that comes with being tied to a man like me. I dragged you into the shadows I live in, and now I’m asking you for more.”

He pauses, like the weight of what he’s about to say makes it harder to speak.

“I can be temperamental. Controlling. Jealous. Hell, kitten, I could go on all day and still not cover everything that’s wrong with me.

But know this—” he takes my hand and presses it to his chest, over his heart “—I would bleed for you. I’d burn the world down just to lay it at your feet if that’s what you wanted. ”

His voice cracks slightly as he continues.

“Give me a second chance. Let me make this right. Let me prove myself to you. Let me protect you. Let me love you right.”

Then he says the three words I thought I’d never hear.

“I love you.”

I don’t know when the tears started slipping past my eyes, but they fall freely now.

He’s saying all the words I’ve longed to hear, tearing down every wall I’ve tried to build between us.

But I still can’t bring myself to say it back—not yet.

So instead, I nod into his shoulder, holding on just a little tighter.