Page 113 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
He growls softly, a sound thick with satisfaction, and his lips crash into mine again, hungry and unrelenting. The kiss is fire and desperation, consuming every ounce of control I thought I had. His hips press into me, and I feel him—still hard, still pulsing—against me. I let out a low moan as he grinds against me, teasing me with the promise of what’s to come.
I whimper in response, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pull him closer, desperate for more.
His hand moves, sliding down my side, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It finds the waistband of my pants, slipping beneath with practiced ease. His fingers brush against the bare skin of my hip, then lower, finding the heat between my thighs.
“You’re soaked,” he murmurs, his voice rough and filled with dark satisfaction. “All for me.”
“Yes,” I moan, my head falling back against the tree as his fingers move with an agonizing slowness, teasing, exploring, leaving me trembling.
"You want this," he whispers against my neck, his lips brushing like fire as they trail down to my collarbone. His fingers press against my most sensitive spot, rubbing in slow, teasing circles that steal the breath from my lungs.
“Yes,” I gasp, my body arching into his touch, every nerve alight with desperation.
"Tell me," he growls, his voice low and commanding, dripping with unrestrained desire. "Tell me you want me to fuck you. To ruin you."
“Casper…” I moan, his name spilling from my lips like a prayer.
“Say it, Princess,” he demands, his fingers pressing harder, his movements quickening with merciless precision. "Beg me."
My breath comes in shallow gasps, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak as his fingers work me with devastating precision.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice trembling as I cling to him.
His lips find mine again, his need matching mine in every fevered movement. He pulls his hand away suddenly, and I whimper at the loss, but the sound is quickly silenced as he grips my waist, pulling me against him.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice thick with possession. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper, the words trembling with truth.
Something shifts in his expression—an unfiltered intensity that leaves me breathless. He adjusts his hold on me, and I feel him rocking against me, the heat of him burning through the thin fabric barrier.
"Gods, I’m going to devour you," he murmurs, his voice a dark, sinful promise, thick with reverence and unrelenting desire.
And I want him to.
But the moment shatters with a single word. "Casper."
The voice is calm yet cold, slicing through the air. A woman stepsaround the corner, her dark brown hair cascading in a long, intricate braid over her shoulders. It’s her—the woman from earlier. Her features are delicate, almost ethereal, her dark eyes darting between us. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t linger. Instead, she turns on her heel and walks away, her silence deafening in the charged air she leaves behind.
Casper’s gaze darkens, his jaw tightening as he closes his eyes for a brief moment. The muscles in his neck strain with the effort to hold himself back, to contain whatever storm rages beneath his surface. I study him, my brows pulling together as an unfamiliar pang rises in my chest.
But his hands drop from me, the warmth of his touch fading as he sets me down gently, almost reluctantly. There’s a tenderness in the way he moves, as though he’s afraid that if he lets go too quickly, I’ll shatter or vanish altogether.
For a breath, his fingers linger on my arms, twitching slightly, as if he’s battling the urge to pull me back into him. His eyes meet mine, dark and searching, and I see it—the war he’s fighting within himself. He steps back, just enough to create a sliver of distance. His hand rises to push his hair back from his face, exhaling a shaky breath. With the other, he shifts his stance, adjusting himself back into his pants.
“Lailah…” he starts, his voice low and strained.
He looks at me like he wants to say something, to explain, but the words seem to die in his throat. I step toward him instinctively, my hands trembling at my sides.
“Don’t,” I whisper, the word barely audible.
His jaw tightens, and his hand falls to his side, clenched into a fist before he forces it open. Without a word, he turns away from me, his eyes fixed on the spot where the woman vanished into the shadows. The tension radiates off him, barely contained.
I look up at the sky, searching for something—anything— to make sense of what’s happening. I close my eyes, the tears threatening to spill over as I try to hold onto the tiny fragments of composure I have left. When I finally open my eyes and find Casper’s eyeson me, it’s as though something inside me snaps. The weight of it all crashes over me in waves.
"Callum," Casper hisses, his voice low and venomous.
Shock floods my system as the name leaves his lips and suddenly, I know. He was here. Lurking in the shadows.Watching us.
