Page 107 of Crushed Vow
I felt his hand brush against me, a gentle rub that sent a shock of sensation through my body.
“Your hands... they’ll be soaked with blood,” I mumbled, my face still hidden behind my fingers, embarrassment warring with the warmth of his touch.
“Let me worry about that,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “And just so you know, menstrual blood is harmless.”
Through the small gap between my fingers, I saw him dip his fingers into the blood and trace my name across his chest, the red streaks bold against his skin.
My breath hitched, a mix of shock and awe at the intimacy of the act.
“It’s messy,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“No, it’s not,” he said, his eyes locked on mine, unwavering.
I glanced down, imagining the couch beneath me stained with blood, but before I could spiral, he spoke again, his voice cutting through my thoughts.
“You wore another man’s clothes, Charlotte. So I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”
He tore off his trousers, revealing himself, and my breath caught at the sight. “Take your hands off your face,” he ordered, his voice firm but not cruel.
I obeyed, my eyes meeting his as he guided my hand to him.
My fingers wrapped around his length, but it was too much for one hand, so I used both, still barely able to hold him. My heart raced, a mix of nerves and anticipation.
“You want me to...?” I started, my voice trailing off.
“No,” he said, his gaze intense. “I just want you to feel what’s about to claim you.”
My chest heaved, my mind reeling at the thought of him taking me like this, in the midst of my period.
I’d never done this before, and the idea of the mess made me hesitate, but the desire in his eyes drowned out my doubts. “The second I enter you,” he said, his voice a low growl, “I’ll carve myself so deep inside you, your next life will wake up wet with my name.”
He entered me in one swift motion, my body jerking at the intensity, but the blood made it effortless, slick and warm.
He held my jaw, forcing my eyes to meet his, and thrust deeper, slow at first, then harder, each movement deliberate and consuming.
I moaned, my hands gripping his arms as he moved, the pleasure overwhelming.
“Cassian...” I gasped, my voice breaking.
“Do. Not. Ever wear another man’s clothes again,” he said, his thrusts punctuating each word.
“Okay...” I managed, my body trembling under the onslaught of sensation.
“Okay what?” he demanded, slamming into me with a force that made my vision blur, his eyes boring into mine.
“I won’t... oh, God... I won’t wear another man’s clothes,” I cried, my voice fracturing as he pushed me closer to the edge. “Ever again.”
He pressed his body against mine, his lips finding my chest, my navel, my stomach, kissing each part of me like they were sacred relics.
My hands wove around his neck, pulling him closer, begging for this to last, for the connection to hold. The pleasure was unlike anything I’d known, doubled by the vulnerability we’d shared, by the way he’d claimed my scars and my blood as his own.
He didn’t stop, his pace quickening, and I felt myself unraveling. “Cassian, don’t punish me by stopping,” I pleaded, my voice raw with need. “Please... don’t stop.”
I was terrified he’d pull away, like he had before, leaving me aching and unfulfilled. But he didn’t. “Beg.” He said, his voice a dark promise.
“Please... Cassian, please,” I gasped, my legs trembling, wide and open as he drove deeper, reaching places that made my body sing. “I’ll do anything you want...”
And then I shattered, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over me, my vision sparking, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
