Page 27 of Hopeless Kingdom
He wants to play hardball?
Fine.
I can play hardball.
My body brushes every inch of his, including the hard length that’s perfectly pressed low against my stomach. My lips skim his but only barely.
“I want to watch you.” My lashes flutter up to watch him closely. “I want to watch you fuck me.” That magic that always burns through him flashes in his silver eyes. I bite his lip before sucking lightly and then finally kissing it. “I want to watch you make me come.” A groan vibrates through his chest and into mine.
“Fucking human,” he says on a low, taunting voice.
Gently, he kisses me. His tongue makes slow work of flicking against mine. Darrio kisses me like he never wants to stop.
A girlish squeal tumbles from me when his strong hands grip the underside of my thighs and he pins me against the wall with nothing but his body and the castle walls holding me to this world.
And for once, I want to be here. He makes this hellish world tolerable.
Nice even.
Then he slams into me hard. My lips part with a harsh gasp and I hold his gaze as he drags his length slowly out before slamming into me once more.
Sharp edges of my nails rake up his tense back and swiftly I pull off his shirt so his warm skin pushes against mine. My fingers tangle into his lengthy hair and I pull slightly. A shiver runs through me as he rakes his teeth along the base of my jaw. A mixture of soft lips and biting teeth skim down my neck and shoulder.
I feel the coiling energy tighten recklessly, ready to explode.
Then my moans are drifting up the high arches of the ceiling, circling the room. I feel myself tighten around him with a shaking orgasm but it doesn’t slow him down. It only seems to increase his pace.
Another shaking buildup of energy furls low within me, my thighs clenching around his lean hips. Sweat dampens our skin but it doesn’t stop the friction of our bodies. He uses that friction, rubbing his shaft against me just right until I’m screaming all over again.
A primal growl leaves his lips, humming against my neck.
He doesn’t stop until I’m clinging like a second layer to his strong and relentless body; the body that’s strung tight beneath my touch. A low, long groan escapes him as he stills against me, burying his face into my messy, damp hair.
My fingertips trace the lines of hard muscle tone and jagged scars along his shoulders.
Hot breaths shake over my neck and neither of us speaks for several minutes.
Gently, his mouth presses to the thin scar that lines the base of my neck and he holds me against him. Black jeans are still wound around his feet as he carries me on unsteady steps to my bed. My legs feel weak as the soft mattress meets my tired limbs.
My knees curl up to my chest as I look into his shifting, avoiding eyes.
Silence. Silence clings to us as if we’ll never have another word to speak to one another for the rest of our long, regrettable lives.
He bends and his jeans drag back up his thighs, covering himself once more. The amount of attention he gives the silver button on his jeans is suffocating. I can practically feel his heavy thoughts drifting in an unspoken voice through the quiet tension in the room.
The muscles of his arms ripple with the simple task of zipping his jeans. The black ink adorning the pale lines of scars across his shoulders shift with each move.
And I study his every detail.
I’m afraid I’ll never get the unfiltered chance to look at this beautiful man like this again. My heart pounds with the terror that I’ll have to avoid his starlight eyes, his rumbling voice, the alluring energy that he always pushes into me.
I swallow hard and try to steady the breaths that are wracking through my lungs.
Still he stares at the soot lining the floor.
He’s going to say this was a mistake, I can tell.
The two of us are letting the silence smother the life out of us.
