Page 201 of The Call of Crimson
“She’s in the bath,” he explains.
“Drink this,” I command, slipping the vile into his hand.
He studies it, but slips the cork out, tipping the concoction back. “What is it?” he asks, wiping his mouth.
“A tonic to slow the spread.”
“That exists?”
“It’s new and experimental. Congratulations on being one of the first test subjects,” I say dryly.
“How long?”
I shuffle restlessly, wishing I had a firm answer. “We don’t know for sure. A day? Maybe less?”
Elijah swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “Thank you,” he whispers.
“Use your time well.”
“I intend to,” he says with a nod, then closes the door, returning to Ophelia.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
OPHELIA
Elijah’s warm tongue circles my clit in slow, maddening spirals that drag a moan from my throat. The last traces of sleep vanish the moment he thrusts a finger inside my center, curling it. In and out, he pumps his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at my sex.
My fingers thread through his loose curls, hips arching off the mattress. A whimper escapes me as he sucks my clit, his fingers continuing their deliciously torturous ministrations. That familiar warmth builds low in my core, a tingling sensation growing at the base of my spine.
“Elijah.” His name comes out as a breathy plea.
“Come for me, my dark goddess,” he demands, a devilish grin spreading his sinful lips.
With a few more strokes of his fingers, I’m tipping over the edge as release courses through me. Pleasure electrifies every nerve ending, stealing the breath from my lungs.
Before the orgasm can subside, I feel Elijah’s length aligning with my entrance. He thrusts in to the hilt in one swift motion.Giving me no time to adjust to him, he moves in and out in long, punishing strokes.
His lips find mine, swallowing my scream as his strokes perpetuate my pleasure. My fingers dig into his scalp, eliciting a delightful hiss from his lips. Deft fingers massage my butt as he guides one leg up, placing my ankle on his shoulder. The new angle leaves me panting from how much deeper he feels inside me.
“Gods, Ophelia. I would gladly lose myself in the feel of you,” Elijah reverently whispers against my mouth.
Ecstasy-filled gasps escape me as goosebumps cover my flesh. He continues rocking into me, trailing reverent kisses over every piece of skin he can. My nails drag over the skin of his back, leaving red marks in their wake.
“Then lose yourself, Eli. Just come back to me in the end,” I say, my words a raspy demand.
Something flashes in his eyes, but is gone before I can decipher it. His thrusts increase in tempo, stealing the breath from my lungs. Our bodies writhing together creates a symphony of pure carnal bliss.
The familiar tingling of impending bliss starts low in my belly, intensifying rapidly at Elijah’s long, smooth strokes.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “I can feel how close you are. I need to feel you shatter around me.”
His words heighten my arousal, pushing me ever closer to the edge of orgasm. My inner walls clench in response, dragging a deep moan from his lips.
I reach for a pillow to stifle the scream I’m useless to stop.
“No,” Elijah snarls.
“Breyla is two doors down,” I protest, albeit weakly.
