Page 27 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

"Then you don't get my cock." I move away from her.

"Wait!" She looks back at me, desperation clear in her eyes. "Please... please fuck my pussy. I want your cock inside me."

"Much better." I thrust into her hard, burying myself to the hilt in one stroke.

She cries out, her back arching as she takes my full length. I don't give her time to adjust, immediately setting a punishing pace.

"So tight," I growl, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "Taking my cock so well."

I fuck her brutally, each thrust driving deeper than the last. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by her breathless moans.

After several minutes, I pull out completely. She whines at the loss.

"On your back."

She flips over quickly, and I see the glazed look in her eyes. Good. That brilliant mind is finally quieting.

"Up." I help her to her feet, her legs unsteady.

"Where—"

"Bedroom." I scoop her up easily, carrying her toward the stairs. She's lighter than I expected, all soft curves and warm skin against my chest.

She wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her face against my throat. "This is very caveman of you."

"Problem with that?"

"Not even a little bit," she admits, her breath hot against my skin.

I carry her up the stairs to my bedroom, depositing her on the bed where she's slept for the past few nights. The king-sized mattress dwarfs her petite frame, and seeing her there—naked and flushed instead of curled under my sheets—sends a surge of possession through me.

I move to the dresser, retrieving the silk tie from the top drawer. When I turn back to her, her eyes widen.

"What's that for?"

"Too many distractions." I tie the silk around her eyes, checking that it's secure but not cutting off circulation. "You think too much."

With her sight gone, every other sense heightens. She jumps when my hand touches her thigh.

"Color?"

"Green."

I position myself over her, my cock pressing against her entrance again. "Hands above your head."

She complies immediately. I grip both her wrists in one hand, pinning them to the mattress.

"Keep them there or I stop."

I thrust into her again, slower this time, but no less intense. She moans, trying to wrap her legs around me, but I pin one thigh down with my free hand.

"Stay still."

The position leaves her completely open to me, unable to move or see what's coming next. I vary my pace randomly, sometimes slow and deep, sometimes fast and shallow, keeping her off balance.

"Tell me whose pussy this is."

"Yours," she gasps.

"Louder."

"Yours! It's yours!"

"That's right." I lean down, my mouth next to her ear. "Mine to fuck. Mine to control. Mine to ruin."

I pull out again, making her whimper. My hand finds her throat, fingers wrapping around the delicate column. Not squeezing yet, just a reminder.

"Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours."

"All of you?"

"Yes, all of me."

I apply slight pressure to her throat, feeling her pulse race under my fingers. "Say it again."

"I'm yours. All of me belongs to you."

The pressure increases incrementally. Not enough to cut off air, but enough that she's very aware of my control. Her breathing becomes more conscious, more deliberate.

"Good girl." I ease the pressure, but don't remove my hand. "Color?"

"Green."

I thrust back into her, using my grip on her throat as leverage. Her breathing changes, becoming more ragged. Her body tenses beneath me in a way that's different from arousal.

"Too much," she gasps, but doesn't use the safeword.

"You can take it." I increase my pace, my hand tightening slightly on her throat. "Tell me how it feels."

"I can't... it's too much, I can't think, I can't—"

"That's the point." I lean down, my mouth brushing her ear. "No thinking. Just feeling."

I can see her breathing becoming erratic, her body trembling beneath me. Something shifts in her responses - less pleasure, more distress.

"Tell me you're a good little slut who loves taking my cock."

The words are designed to push her further, to make her feel exposed and vulnerable. Combined with everything else, it's the final straw.

"Yellow," she gasps. "Yellow, please."

I stop immediately, releasing her throat and stilling inside her. "Breathe, little bunny. Just breathe."

I don't pull out, but I remove the blindfold, needing to see her eyes. They're wide and unfocused, tears tracking down her cheeks.

"Talk to me. What do you need?"

"Just... a minute. It was too much all at once. The blindfold and your hand and what you were making me say..."

"You did perfectly." I brush the tears from her cheeks. "So good, asking for what you needed."

Her breathing starts to settle, the panic leaving her eyes. "I'm okay. It was just overwhelming."

"Color now?"

She takes a deep breath, considering. "Green. But... gentler?"

"I can do gentler." I start moving again, slow and careful this time. No degrading words, no pressure on her throat, just deep, steady strokes.

"Better?"

"Much." She tilts her head up to kiss me, and I can taste the salt from her tears.

I make love to her slowly, watching her face, reading every micro-expression. When I feel her getting close, I don't stop this time.

"Come for me, little bunny."

She breaks apart beneath me with a soft moan, her pussy clenching around my cock as waves of pleasure wash over her. The sight and feel of her climax triggers my own, and I empty myself inside her with a groan.

For several moments, neither of us moves. I can hear our harsh breathing, feel the sweat cooling on our skin.

"You okay?" I pull out carefully, checking her face.

She nods, looking thoroughly satisfied despite the earlier intensity. "That was incredible. Intense, but incredible."

"Even the yellow?"

"Especially the yellow." She curls into my side. "I've never had anyone push me like that. Never trusted someone enough to let them."

Something territorial and satisfied settles in my chest. I've given her what she needs, shown her limits she didn't know she had, and brought her safely through it.

"Good," I murmur against her hair. "That's what I'm here for."

She tilts her head up to look at me, eyes soft and trusting. "Is it always this intense?"

"No," I admit. "It's not."

She smiles, that brilliant expression that lights up her entire face. "So I'm special?"

"You're mine," I correct, pulling her closer.

As we lie there in the aftermath, rain still pattering against the windows, I realize something has fundamentally changed. For the first time since Sarah died, I've found something worth protecting that isn't duty or obligation.

Something that's entirely mine.