Page 11 of Lord of the Dark (Drawn into Darkness #1)

Alexander Russo

The tremors wracking her body, the slick heat of her lips, the choked little sounds as I pushed deeper—all of it was a drug, dragging me further into an abyss I'd long since stopped fearing.

I drank in the fear widening her eyes, fed on her resistance, her pain, the involuntary trembling of fingers digging into my thighs.

She didn't want to be weak.

Hated how her own body betrayed her, how raw desire carved through her defenses anyway.

The fiercer she fought, the closer I came to losing control right there. I fucked her mouth with a dark hunger that demanded more—that needed to test how far I could push her, how deep she'd fall before stopping the fight.

Her eyes burned with feral defiance—the gaze of a woman who'd never let herself be broken.

Not by me.

Not by anyone.

And that was exactly why I wanted her.

From the moment I'd first seen her, I'd known she wasn't like the others. That I had to claim her. And yet would never truly own her.

"Hate me all you want," I murmured, dragging my thumb slowly across her swollen, wet lips—marked from how I'd used them.

"It changes nothing."

She wanted to tear me apart.

Destroy me.

I could feel it—the way her muscles coiled, trembling with the urge to lunge, to make me pay for every rough thrust, every stolen breath.

"Asshole," she snarled.

Then came the blow.

Her fist cracked against my jaw with brutal force.

My head snapped sideways, pain blooming sharp and bright. Fuck.

Every muscle in my body locked, heat exploding through me.

This reaction—this fury at how I'd taken her mouth—was the fucking confirmation I'd been waiting for.

Proof that she was as raw, as untamed as I was.

We burned with the same dark fire, one that consumed us both and chained us together inescapably.

She seized my moment of surprise, twisting free to drop low, her fingers already clawing for the knife lying temptingly close.

My humiliation had finally unleashed her true self—her darkness.

She'd fight to win now, by any means.

And I wanted her more than ever.

I was faster, kicking the knife out of reach with a careless swipe of my foot.

Cursing, she lunged forward, fury burning in her gaze, but I seized her with a firm grip and yanked her sharply back against me.

Her eyes spat fire into mine.

"Show me what you've got.

And make it good," I challenged, shoving her forcefully to the ground, right toward the knife.

Skilled, she absorbed my energy, scrambling swiftly across the floor to grab it.

The moment her fingers stretched for the blade, I was over her, pinning her beneath my weight into the unyielding ground.

Her delicate frame was no match—her muscles tensed in desperate resistance.

"You're fucking relentless," I murmured appreciatively into her ear as she gasped for breath beneath me.

"But you've met your master." I clasped her wrists together behind her back with one hand and snatched the knife with the other.

Slowly, I shifted my weight to the side, allowing her to roll onto her back.

"Turn over and don't you dar—" I hadn’t even finished my damn sentence before she wrenched an arm free and drove her elbow into my face.

My jaw screamed like hell, as if shattered.

"I alone decide who I belong to.

Shove your 'master' up your ass," she hissed.

A dark burn seared through my temples.

I leaned in, gripping her throat roughly, slamming her back down.

My fingers dug into her chin, forcing her eyes on me.

"You decide nothing here," I growled.

Her heart hammered wildly against my hold, one leg bent beneath her—she dared not move more than necessary.

I lowered myself over her.

Her breaths shallowed.

I felt her body tense as if bracing for final defiance—then she closed the last distance between us.

The first contact was a lightning strike.

Her lips crashed into mine, greedy and scorching, as if she wanted to devour me.

Her tongue found mine without hesitation—wild, relentless, leaving me utterly unprepared.

I was used to taking.

But this witch was a goddamn storm. She wasn’t kissing me—she was attacking. Her fingers clawed into my shirt, dragging me closer, deeper into this whirlpool of desire and violence. Every muscle in me coiled tight, my hands digging into her waist as if clinging for survival. My heart pounded faster, hammering against the armor of my ribs—the barrier that kept out everything I refused to allow.

Her taste was sin.

Velvety, sweet, and lethal—like poison unfurling tenderly on the tongue before slowly corroding everything.

Her ravenous mouth burned away my control, and when she bit me, she obliterated every boundary I’d set.

I felt the heat pooling low in my gut, the dull throb behind my temples, the pulse of pain on my split lip.

She tasted like war.

Like madness.

Like something that didn’t submit to my nature—but mirrored it.

I fisted her hair tighter, wrenching her head back to reclaim distance—to seize back the damn reins.

To put her back where she belonged: beneath my control.

But she refused.

She denied me even a breath, dragging me deeper into her fire.

It was too much. She was too much—and she was fucking dangerous.

A rough gasp tore from me as I jerked away.

My skin prickled as I took her in—swollen lips, dark glittering eyes, that look that told me she knew exactly what she’d just done.

She only laughed, low and taunting, licking my blood from her lips with relish.

"Don’t," I warned.

Slow as a dream, she sat up, gripping the hem of her dress and inching it higher.

Centimeter by centimeter, her fingers trailed up her thigh.

She kept going.

Further.

Further. She thought she had me figured out—as if I were just a man with dark thoughts and a hunger sated by sex.

"You don’t know what you’re playing with.

Testing limits you don’t understand—ones you won’t survive crossing."

"That’s exactly what I want to see," she whispered.

"Not the lawyer in the tailored suit.

Not the man who flashes a charming smile at the right moment.

I want the other one.

Only then will you truly have me." A brief smile, cold and honest. "Flowers and romance, I can get that any—"

The monster in me bared its teeth.

Her words cut off in a startled gasp as I seized her legs and dragged her harshly across the floor toward me.

My hands plunged greedily into her neckline, desperate to know if her breasts felt as good as they looked.

A growl ripped from me at the sensation—her full, firm tits, her hard nipples against my palms.

They pressed into my grip, and Fiona let out a frustrated moan as I squeezed tighter. I pinched her stiff peaks between thumb and forefinger until she writhed—a mix of pain and pleasure so tangled she could barely tell them apart. The pain turns you on—you just don’t know it yet.

I pulled so hard that she arched up, following my hands until her face was mere inches from mine.

"You want it rough?" I rasped as she whimpered in pain.

A crooked grin tugged at my lips.

"You’ll get it rough.

Get on your stomach."

For a moment, she just stared at me, weighing whether to obey.

She fucking should.

"I won’t repeat myself.

Do it or learn to obey."

A disbelieving laugh escaped her—but my gaze wiped it clean off her face.

Without another word, she rolled onto her stomach as ordered.

The internal battle raging inside her, the way she hated herself for pushing me this far—it amused me.

There she lay.

Face down, head turned away as if she could stop me from seeing how badly she wanted this.

But I saw it anyway.

In the way her fingers clawed into the carpet.

In her shallow, rapid breaths. Slowly, I knelt behind her. My gaze raked over her back, over the sleek black dress clinging to her like a second skin. I lifted it, inch by torturous inch, baring her flesh until I saw the delicate fabric of her panties—black, sheer, the last shred of control separating her from me.

"Pretty," I murmured, more to myself than her, as I hooked my fingers into the waistband and dragged them down her hips at a maddening pace.

The sound of my belt buckle made her flinch.

"What are you doing with that now?" Skepticism sharpened her voice.

I didn’t answer.

I leaned forward, hauled her thighs up with one hand, and threaded the belt beneath them with the other, cinching her legs together.

"Are you insane?" She protested immediately.

"What is this?"

"Tight...

it’s going to be tight..." I bent so close to her ear she could feel my smirk against her skin.

"I’m going to fuck you hard now, and you’re going to feel me so deep you won’t be able to think of anything but my cock."

My lips brushed feather-light over the delicate skin of her ass.

The taste of her, the heat between us, the way she lay utterly helpless—I bent again, sank my fingers into her flesh, and… bit down.

My teeth dug deep as I pinned her neck, holding her still—like a predator marking its claim.

"Ahhh… are you crazy, you fucking freak?" she snarled.

"You’re mine now," I growled against her skin.

"I warned you, Fiona."

"Didn’t realize I was fucking Dracula—"

"You’re fucking everything that lives in the dark." I freed my cock, already painfully hard with need.

A rough gasp tore from her as I tapped the head rhythmically against her perfect ass.

Her soft, warm folds glistened before me, so ready.

I dragged a finger through, parting her, and she moaned hoarsely, thrusting her hips back impatiently.

My tip was slick with my own arousal, and I couldn’t wait a second longer. With one brutal thrust, I buried myself deep in her tight, drenched cunt, making her take every inch.

A sharp cry ripped from her—half pain, half pleasure—as I started fucking her with hard, relentless strokes.

Her muscles clenched around my thick cock instantly, as if they’d been waiting to swallow me whole.

I felt every millimeter of her, the hot, wet grip of her body dragging me deeper, refusing to let go.

No matter what act she put on, no matter how much she pretended to resist—her body was mine.

"Fiona—" I couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Ecstasy had long since burned away my sanity.

The sight of her ass bound by the belt, the way my cock spread her open with every thrust, her wet heat and desperate whimpers—it sent electric shocks straight to my nerves.

God damn it, how could this feel so good?

Her fingers clawed into the carpet, her body arched back, meeting every one of my thrusts with desperate hunger.

I could feel her fighting for composure each time I drove deeper.

"Your cock is...

so...

big...," she moaned, her voice nearly breaking under the intensity.

She was so tight, so perfectly molded to me, that my entire body tensed to keep from losing control.

My breath came ragged, my fingers dug into her hips as if clinging to her while I battled the overwhelming sensation threatening to consume me.

But she gave me no quarter.

Her soft, fractured whimpers, the trembling of her thighs, every damn sound from her lips, every movement that dragged me deeper—it shredded the last remnants of my restraint.

She was my fucking ruin.

I gripped her hips harder, yanking her against each thrust with a sharp jerk until every inch of me was buried inside her.

I wanted to fill her, make her feel what it meant to belong to me—to ensure she could never think of anything else again.

One hand clutched the bedpost, the other still fisted in the carpet, as if she needed an anchor, something to hold onto in this storm.

But that wasn’t what I wanted.

I wanted all of her.

I wanted her completely open, holding nothing back—knowing there was no going back.

I leaned forward, dragging her face to mine by her hair.

Her lips claimed mine insatiably, her teeth sinking deeper into my flesh as she pressed closer, pulling me in with every movement.

"More...

I need more of you...," she demanded, rough and raw.

She urged me toward harder, deeper thrusts, as if it would never be enough, as if she could chain me to her this way.

Her arousal swelled until my stomach was slick with it.

The room filled with the scent of her need—sweet, heavy, stirring the beast inside me. I fucked her with such brutal, deep strokes that the sounds of our passion—the gasps, the slap of skin—merged into a wild symphony.

Her breaths turned frantic, her body tensed as she reached the point of no return.

A tremor wracked her, uncontrollable, unstoppable—but right then, I pulled back.

"No...

please..." A sharp, panting moan tore from her lips.

Her hands clenched, her hips jerked forward, desperately seeking the release I denied her.

Her breath came ragged, shredded by emotion—by the tangled mess of fury, hate, and burning desire coiling inside her like barbed wire.

"You come when I allow it," I murmured against her heated skin, letting my fingers trail slowly up her thighs.