Page 148 of Cursed Shadows 5

His hand glides up the length of my waist to find the curve of my breast. There, his thumb is tender as it grazes over my pebbled nipple. “It is me who should be ashamed.”

My core clenches around him.

The need for friction flutters my walls, aches deep in my belly—and it borders on pain.

“It is you who is the victor,” his soft words are a breath on my glistening lips. He nudges his nose against mine, a sincere, sweet nudge of affection.

I buck against him in answer.

His cock swirls around my walls. It lures a breathy sound from him, firms his touch on my back.

“It is you who controls me,” comes his rough, scarred voice, follows me as my lashes shut on him, and I delve into the sensations.

I swirl. Again. And again.

And again—

Until I find a pattern, a routine of dance, and I hook my arms around his neck.

I lean into him.

Daxeel’s hand traps between our bodies, his thumb pressed to my nipple, pushing it inwards. He makes no attempt to free his hand. Rather, he glides it down, down, down until—

A moan ribbons out of me.

The press of two fingertips are firm against my clit, and the friction from my swirling hips is quick to ebb at me.

His mouth traces the corner of my parted lips. “It is you, Nari. Everything is you. My world, my life, my war, my pain, my heart.”

Those kisses don’t cease.

With each gentle sway of my hips, back and forth, his mouth travels from my lips to my chin, along my jawline, over my earlobe, where his tongue flicks and the drag of his teeth is gentle, then down the curve of my neck—all the while, his hands stroke my back, a caress, a comfort that soothes me.

“I will follow you to the afterlife, I will follow you into the light, I will follow you to my end.”

My pace is quickening.

The swirls start to jut into a grinding thrust against him.

“You could plunge your blade into me a hundred times over,” his raspy tone reveals that he is building, climbing with me, “and you would still be the vicious one I kneel for.”

His fingertips part around my clit, and I buck against the touch, the thrill until my moans start to lift.

“I am your servant,” his murmur comes rushed, panting into the crook of my neck, “I am your protector,” his fingers tighten, then release, clench, then soften on my flesh, as though to grip me, hold me while he thrusts, but fights the instincts raging inside of him, “I am your victim…I am yours.”

My breaths are choppy, coarse, and I start to lose my pace. I furrow my brow, as though to concentrate.

Daxeel aids me.

His arm loops around my middle, pinning me to him—and he falls his weight back on his forearm, pressed into the mattress.

I shift with him, my face nuzzling into the nook of his neck.

That grating sound of my harsh breaths blends with his as he thrusts up to meet me, bringing me down on him, impaling me.

I don’t like the turn of control, the shift of power.

The pleasure is rising, so close to climax that, in a hurry, I steal the power back for it—

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