Page 49

I dragged my fingers down the line of her chest, following the curve of her cleavage, slowly and possessive. Her skin bloomed with goosebumps, and I felt her breath catch when I brushed the edge of her panties. My control frayed.

I leaned down and found the slit in her dress, sliding her underwear down inch by inch, torturing us both. She trembled beneath me, perfect, and the sound she made, soft and breathless, sent a jolt of need straight through me.

My hands skimmed back up her thighs, reverent and unrelenting, until I was touching more than skin. I was touching need .

“You are art,” I breathed against her hip, lips barely grazing. “Designed to destroy me. ”

I gathered the folds of her dress at her waist, folding her legs open like a prayer and settled between them.

Heat radiated off her skin, her pulse thundering beneath my fingertips.

She was all soft contrasts, ivory skin and wicked curves, innocence laced with sin, and I wanted every inch etched into me.

She shivered as I pressed a line of kisses up her thigh, each one slower than the last, each one claiming, branding. She didn’t look away. Didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. She watched me as if I were the storm coming to drown her, and I was.

“There’s nothing else,” I murmured, voice ragged with restraint. “Just you. Me. And this need that doesn’t know how to stop.”

I kissed the inside of her thigh, just near where she wanted me most. I felt her body arc in silent plea and smiled against her skin, my fingers sliding higher with agonizing patience.

I’d take my time. Memorize the way she writhed, the way she whispered my name like it hurt not to say it. I wanted to ruin her for every other touch. Make sure she knew, felt, that no one else would ever touch her like this. Not without remembering me.

Not without missing me .

Tonight, I wouldn’t just have her. I’d possess her.

“Adrian, please… don’t make me wait.”

Those words shattered what little restraint I had left. They burned through me like wildfire, obliterating hesitation, morality, everything, until only one truth remained:

She was mine.

Spread out beneath me, flushed and trembling, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts. Gods, she was a vision. A living prayer to sin. My sin.

I took a slow breath, letting the sight of her burn into me, legs open, chest heaving, slick arousal glistening between her thighs like an invitation written in blood and silk.

My mouth watered. My cock ached painfully against the fabric of my pants.

She didn’t even know what she had done to me.

Or maybe she did. The wicked little siren, begging with those eyes, that voice, those trembling thighs.

“Fuck, princess…” I growled, my voice raw as I grabbed her thighs and spread her wider, possessive and greedy. “Look at you. Perfect. Dripping for me.”

And she was. Her pink lips were slick and swollen, her body arching subtly under my gaze, already caught in the tension between pleasure and need.

I leaned in, slow and deliberately, letting the heat of my breath tease her before I even touched her.

Her scent hit me like a drug, sweet and intoxicating.

It wasn’t just arousal—it was her. And it made me snarl with hunger.

I traced her entrance with one finger, watching the way she shivered and gasped, then parted her gently and pressed my tongue to her, just the tip at first, circling her clit like a dark promise.

She cried out, back arching, fingers clutching the sheets. Perfect.

Her taste hit me like a curse I never wanted lifted. Sweet and sinful, slick and divine. I moaned against her, unable to help myself. It took everything in me not to rut against the mattress like some desperate fucking animal.

I wanted to consume her.

I licked her again, slower this time, savoring every reaction, every tremble of her thighs, every sharp gasp, every twitch of her hips as she chased the pressure.

I flattened my tongue and dragged it along the length of her sex, then flicked her clit again with practiced cruelty.

Her hands found my hair, nails digging into my scalp like she needed to anchor herself.

“More,” she breathed. “Please…”

Gods, I really fucking love when she begs.

I slipped two fingers inside her, slowly stretching her open, feeling how wet and tight she was around me. She moaned, deep and broken, and I nearly lost it. My thumb found her clit again, rubbing in tight circles, matching the rhythm of my mouth.

She bucked against me, her hips wild and uncoordinated, her thighs trembling.

I groaned into her. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” I murmured between strokes. “So fucking desperate, grinding on my face like the good little princess you’re…”

Her moans broke into a whimper. Her body was shaking now, unraveling under my touch.

I curled my fingers just right there and felt her clench around me like her body already knew it was mine. My free hand slid up, cupping her breast, thumb and forefinger, finding her nipple and pinching it hard enough to make her cry out.

“I’m going to come.” She gasped, her voice a shattered prayer. “Please don’t stop.”

I didn’t, couldn’t. I sped up, tongue relentless, fingers thrusting, thumb circling, breast in my hand. Her moans turned frantic—the room filled with the sweet sounds of her breaking. Her hips rocked against me, wild and desperate as the orgasm built to a fever pitch.

And I watched her come apart like a goddamn masterpiece.

With a last stroke of my tongue, her body seized, hips trembling, thighs clamping around my head as the orgasm tore through her. She cried out, wild and unrestrained, and I fucking reveled in it.

That sound was mine.

Her taste flooded my mouth, slick and sweet and sinful, a gush of arousal that I didn’t waste a drop.

I devoured her, tongue dragging over her pulsing labia as she rode out on the high, her body shuddering in the most exquisite display of surrender.

I didn’t stop until the tremors faded, until her whimpers turned to breathless moans and her hand loosened in my hair.

Only then did I give her clit a last kiss. Soft, reverent, almost cruel in its tenderness, and slowly slid my fingers from her soaked pussy.

She collapsed, trembling and spent, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.

The moonlight spilled over her like it knew what it was worshipping.

Her skin glowed with sweat and satisfaction, every curve gleaming like the gods themselves sculpted for my corruption.

Her breasts rose and fell with each labored breath, and her flushed cheeks looked like they’d been painted in fire and ecstasy.

She was divine and desecrated.

Even so, I wanted more.

The sight of her wrecked and glowing sent a fresh surge of lust crashing through me. It was never enough. Not with her. Not when I knew she was mine.

Bound by fate. Marked by the gods. Branded for me.

The thought made something violent coil in my gut. Something primitive. Possessive. I wanted to brand her deeper, to carve myself into her soul, so nothing, no time, no power, no force, could take her from me.

If this night was all she allowed us, then I would burn it into her. Every touch, every kiss, every goddamn breath would be etched in her forever.

I dragged the back of my hand across my mouth, smearing her taste across my skin like war-paint. Then I climbed up her trembling body, slow and deliberate, letting my lips graze the inside of her thigh, her hip, her stomach, claiming every inch along the way.

When I hovered above her, she blinked up at me, dazed and wrecked, her eyes still glassy from the high. I leaned in, my voice low and dark and taunting.

“You look like a goddess who’s been fucked into ruin,” I murmured, lips brushing her ear. “But I’m not done, sweetheart. Not even close.”

I moved slowly down her body, dragging my lips over the soft slope of her collarbone, marking a path like a man starved.

Her skin was warm, trembling, sensitive and marked.

Every breath she took hitched beneath my mouth.

I kissed over her ribs, feeling the flutter of her pulse, before my lips closed around her breast.

Her nipple was already tight, begging. I took it between my teeth, just enough to make her gasp, then soothed the sting with a slow, wet circle of my tongue. Her back arched into me. Perfect. Responsive. Helpless.

My free hand claimed the other breast, fingers spreading possessively before teasing the peak with maddening strokes of my thumb.

Her breaths came faster, shallower, her body moving with me, need coiling tighter again in every gasp.

I grazed her collarbone with my teeth, kissed the hollow of her throat, then bit into her neck, gentle enough not to break skin, but enough to make her squirm and moan like she wanted me to.

She was driving me insane.

Her nails raked down my back, sharp and desperate, and I groaned low in my throat as she tugged my shirt off. Her hands were everywhere, exploring, claiming, trailing over my spine, my waist, my abs, until they reached the line of my pants.

That touch?

That was it.

The last drop.

She unbuttoned my trousers with shaky fingers and shoved them down. I let out a raw, guttural sound, relief flooding me like violence. I was hard, painfully so. Every inch of me pulsed with a pressure that bordered on torment. It hurt to breathe.

Nevertheless, I wanted to .

Her hands on me snapped what little patience I had left. The shreds of self-control I’d been clinging to? Gone. Obliterated.

While my body hovered above hers, my soul had already buried deep inside her .

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” I rasped, voice low and dark with hunger. “And I want to savor every inch of you.”

I looked down at her, truly looked, and saw everything I’d never dared want written across her sweat-slick skin and parted lips. Beauty. Need. Surrender. And it shattered the icy walls I had built around my heart.