Page 150 of The Call of Crimson
“Yes, Breyla. It was all because of you. But hear me now, you were never the problem.”
She nods in understanding, the hurt finally receding from her eyes, and I feel like I can breathe again.
“So what is it that you were feeling?” she asks timidly, like she’s afraid of my answer.
“You, Breyla,” I breathe. “It has always been you.”
She lets her actions speak for her, crashing her mouth into mine. The kiss is somehow both tender and scorching, every emotion threaded into the way her lips move with mine.
I push her back, running a hand down her side to grip her hip. When I kiss a trail along her neck, taking special care to lavish my tongue over the mark, she mewls. Her hips lift, undulating against me in a desperate plea.
“I should return the favor for the years you spent tormenting me,” I murmur against her neck as my fingers trace the skin of her inner thigh.
Goddess, how I loved these thighs. How I would spend all day between them.
“Hm?” she hums, her hand searching for my cock.
When she grasps it, I groan, already aching and ready to sink into her heat.
“How would you do that?” she asks, stroking her hand up and down my length, twisting as she goes.
“I would build you up just until you reached the precipice of orgasm and stop,” I groan when she fondles my balls, precum leaking from the tip. “And I would do it over and over until you were begging for relief.”
Her eyes sparkle, the interest undeniable in the way her gaze heats.
I had edged her before. Nothing like I was describing, though. “I would spend hours,” I say, slipping two fingers inside her wet heat. “Working you up just to watch you squirm as I withheld your release.”
When I curl my fingers forward, her back lifts from the bed, my name a breathy plea on her lips.
Slowly, I circle my thumb around her clit. Just enough to work her up, but not enough to push her over the edge.
She pumps my cock faster, and I grin. “No, princess. That’s not how this game is played,” I say, stretching her arms above her head. Rather than hold them in place, because I need both hands for what I plan to do to her, I activate my Hemonia Gift, using it to keep her hands immobile. “When I take you this time, it will be slowly,” I whisper in her ear, nipping it as I move away.
“Sadistic bastard,” she mutters.
I smirk, slipping my fingers out of her to land a sharp smack to her bare pussy. The moan that spills from her lips confirms my theory. “And that makes you a masochist, my sweet little demon,” I chuckle, taking her peaked nipple into my mouth and biting down hard enough to sting.
“Aurelius, please,” she whines, rolling her hips against my hand.
I align myself with her center, coating my length in her wetness. Always so ready for me.
“Say it again,” I demand, notching my tip at her entrance.
“Aurelius,” she breathes, need heavy in her tone. “Please. I need you.”
“I need you too badly to stretch this out. We’ll play that game later,” I promise.
When I slip inside her, it’s exactly as I promised.
Slow and reverent.
Between each drawn-out thrust, I murmur the words, “It was you.”
Thrust.
“From the beginning.”
Thrust.
