Page 69 of Cursed Shadows 1

But his other hand means I really don’t want to. I want to stay right here, with him, feeling the rough touch of his fingers move around to my front, then dip to my cotton undergarment.

My breath hitches the moment his fingers drag down the line of my slit. Every bone in my body thrums to life with his touch.

Only a strip of cotton, my undergarment, prevents him from pushing his fingers inside me. And that strip is slick to the touch.

Daxeel wastes no time before he’s roughly yanked the cotton strip so hard that it tears, then he’s plunging two fingers into me.

A hollow cry escapes me.

Lashes fluttering, I hardly see the peeling paint on the wall as his fingers curl against that sweet spot. My legs tremble beneath my weight, but I hold steady.

At my ear, with each curve of his fingers, his breathing is steady and controlled, but a little harsh. Harsh enough that I sense the desperation in his desire for me—like he needs this more than he’s willing to admit.

He’s not gentle. His fingers are merciless as they plunge in and out of me, curving with each slam of his fist against my core, and I know I will bruise.

Faintly, I’m aware that there’s no sharpness of his nails cutting me, and so I wonder if he can vanish them, transform them into something neat and kinder to my core.

My walls start to flutter around his fingers.

His growl is throaty at my ear, like he tried to restrain it, but my own desperate whine steals his entire focus and he slams harder into me.

Chest so firm against mine, I’m pushed all the way against the wall now, my breasts aching from the pressure of it. The bite of pain stirs warmer in my belly, like it’s exciting me more, and maybe it is.

I’m not ashamed.

But not once does he grind his own excitement against my ass, or make any move to relieve it when it tightens against his leathers or twitches at the sound of my moans. He keeps his body against mine, his fingers deep in my cunt, his grip on the back of my neck, and his breath brushing over my ear.

There’s purpose to this, I realize.

Fleetingly, I wonder if he’s masking Taroh’s scent on me, reclaiming my body for himself, so that everyone here knows not to touch me again.

The thought is fleeting because, suddenly, his fingers slip out of me and find the hum of my clit. He pinches, firm, between two fingers, then uses the pad of his thumb to brush over it—

And oh my fucking gods.

His thumb presses harder against my clit, and I feel no pain, I feel nothing other than sheer tension lift through my body. My legs stiffen, my mouth parting against a silent cry, and my breath held tight. I’m ready to fall.

And just as I start, as the sensations erupt throughout every part of me, my cunt clenching tight, I moan against my forearm, “Oh godsssss.”

The words aren’t muffled enough, and they earn a snarl from him.

Curved over me, a shield and a predator, his growl is harsh against the shell of my ear. “When you come on my fingers, at my touch—you call me by myname.” There’s nothing playful in his words, this is a warning.

I heed it.

“Dax—aaghh—” My cry hitches over the last syllable of his name just as his thumb is replaced by several fingertips—and he rubs me, hard.

My nails cut into the painted wall. Flecks fragment and cut into my skin, but I feel only the wicked pleasure rising and rising until—

“Fuckkkk,” I whine with the shudder that trembles through me.

Then I’m cold and empty.

Daxeel suddenly steps back, abandons me in the midst of my climax, and I fall to my knees. One hand splayed on the wall, my moan turns into something pitiful. My hips jerk on instinct, as though I can ride out my climax on thin air and shadows—but that’s all that meets my desperation, because behind me, Daxeel stands and watches.

He punishes me this way. Brought me to the orgasm, flooded me with the pleasure, then stole it away.

The ruined climax is nothing short of aching and painful.

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