Page 33 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)
I shook my head. “Not on your mouth, anyway.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her to me.
I pressed my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in the cool night air.
“You are so damn stubborn,” I whispered, my lips grazing her earlobe before trailing down her neck.
She shivered slightly as I nipped at her skin, my canines pressing lightly against her pulse.
My wolf growled in approval, his hunger matching mine.
Celeste gasped as I traced a deliberate line from her collarbone to the hollow just beneath it with my tongue.
The sound sent a primal jolt through me, stirring something raw that clawed to the surface.
Her hands tangled in my hair, her fingers threading through the strands and tugging just enough to make me groan against her skin.
That small gesture—her surrender mixed with her quiet strength—ignited something feral inside me.
She smelled like vanilla with the faintest edge of something more—her desire, her apprehension, her need .
It was intoxicating, a heady blend that shot straight through me, making my cock strain painfully against my pants.
I wanted to savor her, to draw this out, but the wildness inside me begged for release, for possession.
In a single, fluid motion, I flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath me.
The moonlight filtered through the canopy of trees above, painting her in soft silver light.
Her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips made her look like a Renaissance painting—something divine, something I could never deserve but would spend my life worshipping.
Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and when her eyes met mine, they burned with a hunger that mirrored my own.
“You’re stunning,” I murmured, my voice rough with restraint.
She was beyond beautiful. And, gods, I wanted her to be mine .
My hand drifted lower, tracing the soft curve of her stomach, teasing the sensitive skin around her navel before slipping farther down.
I cupped her through the lace of her panties, the heat of her arousal radiating against my palm.
She whimpered, her hips rising to meet my touch, and it undid me.
I wanted to unravel her, wanted to see her shatter in my arms.
Her back arched as I circled her clit with agonizing slowness. The fabric dampened further, her body’s response to me more intoxicating than any drink, more consuming than any fight. She whimpered again, the sound so sweet, so desperate, that I couldn’t stop the low growl that rumbled in my chest.
“Dorian,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, and fuck, hearing my name on her lips like that sent fire coursing through my veins.
I leaned down, brushing my lips over hers—not quite a kiss, but a promise. “I’ve got you, love,” I whispered, my voice low and raw. “Let me take care of you.”
She tugged at the hem of my shirt, and I let her pull it over my head.
Her hands roamed over the planes of my chest, her touch leaving trails of fire on my skin, each pass of her fingers feeding the storm brewing inside me.
I pinned her wrists above her head, holding her in place as I nipped at the delicate line of her jaw, then down to the soft hollow of her neck.
I paused, pulling back just enough to drink her in. Her dress clung to her in all the right ways, and with slow, deliberate care, I slid the fabric higher, revealing her creamy, peach-toned skin inch by inch. When I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, I couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped me.
“Fuck, Celeste,” I rasped, my gaze devouring her.
Her breath hitched as I took one of her hardened nipples into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue before sucking gently.
She twisted against my hold, not to escape but to get closer.
The taste of her skin and those soft, breathy moans fueled the wildness clawing at me.
I released her hands, sliding my fingers down her sides until I reached her panties.
“Let me see all of you,” I murmured, my voice thick with need. She nodded, her chest rising and falling rapidly as I tore the lace from her body, leaving her bare beneath me. The moonlight kissed every curve, every perfect inch of her. I was certain no artist, or poet, could ever do her justice.
My lips trailed down her stomach, to the inside of her thighs, where I nipped and licked my way closer to where she needed me most. Her scent—heady, intoxicating, uniquely hers—surrounded me, and I breathed her in like I’d never get enough.
Her hips bucked toward me, a silent plea, and I answered by sliding my tongue against her, slow and deliberate.
She tasted like pure sin, and I was a man damned.
She cried out, her hands fisting in the grass, her body writhing as I teased her clit with my tongue and thrust two fingers inside her. She clenched around me, pulling me deeper, and I reveled in the sounds she made—the gasps, the moans, the way she said my name like a prayer.
“Look at me, Celeste,” I growled, raising my head just enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes were half-lidded, glazed with pleasure, but she obeyed as I curled my fingers inside her, hitting that spot that made her whole body tremble. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”
Her response was immediate, her body arching as she shattered. I held her through it, my fingers never faltering, my tongue coaxing every last wave of pleasure from her until she was limp and whimpering beneath me.
When her breathing steadied, I flipped her onto her stomach, unable to hold back any longer.
Her ass was a masterpiece, and I couldn’t resist biting it gently before positioning myself behind her.
“You’re mine,” I growled, sliding my cock through her wetness before pressing into her, inch by inch. “Say it.”
“Yours,” she gasped, her voice a mixture of pleasure and desperation. “Gods, Dorian, I’m fucking yours.”
As I filled her, as her body welcomed me in ways I hadn’t thought possible, I knew it was true. She was mine, and I was hers, and nothing—no force in this world or the next—could change that.