Page 19 of Bite of Midnight
When we reach the bed, she hesitates. Not out of fear, but trust battling the unknown. I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her palm, slow and reverent. “You can stop me anytime,” I murmur. “All you have to do is say so.”
She nods, breath trembling.
I don’t rush her. I never would. I trace the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck, memorizing every inch before I dare touch more. Her heartbeat fills the room, steady and alive. The most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“You said one night,” I whisper. “Let me make it mean something.”
She leans in until her forehead rests against mine. “Show me,” she breathes.
I take her mouth then, soft, seeking, a promise rather than a demand. The kiss deepens, slow and consuming, igniting every nerve in my body. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer until the world disappears.
This isn’t just one night. It’s the culmination of every stolen glance, every restrained breath. The beginning of everything.
I pull back just enough to reach behind her, my fingers finding the small zipper of her yellow dress. It slides down with a soft shhh, the sound loud in the quiet room. The fabric pools around her waist. She shivers, and I lean in, pressing a kiss to the newly exposed curve of her shoulder.
“Cold?” I murmur against her skin, my voice hoarse.
“No,” she whispers. “Just… everything.”
I shed my jacket, then my shirt, every movement deliberate. Her gaze tracks each one, wide and hungry. The firelight paints her in shades of gold, bare skin and lace and everything I never thought I’d deserve.
I sit beside her, the mattress dipping beneath my weight. My fingers trace the strap of her bra, slipping beneath it. She trembles.
“Are you sure, Calla?” My voice is barely audible.
Her eyes meet mine. “Yes,” she breathes.
I kiss her deeply, the taste of her driving every rational thought from my mind. I push her gently back against the bed, my hands mapping her curves like sacred territory. She’s soft, real, perfect.
I kiss the nape of her neck, scraping my fangs lightly across her skin. A rush of blood rises to the surface. I taste her, moaning softly. She’s intoxicating, sweet and alive. I could lose myself in her forever.
I kiss down her chest, between the full curve of her breasts. She moans, moving against me. I catch one nipple between my lips,teasing until her breath breaks on a gasp. The faint scrape of a fang draws a taste of her blood, and she shivers with pleasure.
My hand slides lower, tracing the heat between her thighs. She’s slick, ready, and every primal instinct in me roars to life. I tear the lace from her hips, tossing it aside, and lower myself between her legs.
I spread her open, blowing gently against her clit. She moans, eyes hooded, and the sound nearly undoes me.
“Damien, please,” she breathes. “Stop teasing me. I need you.”
I grin against her skin. “You don’t have to beg, sweetheart.”
My tongue finds her center, plunging deep, and she cries out, arching off the bed. I lap at her, thumb circling her clit in slow, rhythmic strokes. She pulls my hair, moving with me, wild and perfect.
Her taste floods my senses. I’m drunk on her, lost in her.
“Damien,” she gasps. “I need you, inside me.”
I lift my head, smirking. “I was inside you, sweetheart.”
She shakes her head, trembling with need. “Your cock. I need your cock.”
That word, that plea, it destroys me. I strip the rest of my clothes off and line myself up against her slick heat. She looks down, eyes widening.
“It’s so big,” she whispers. “I don’t know if it’ll, ”
“You were made for me, Calla,” I rasp. “You’ll take every inch. You’ll crave it. And when I’m gone, nothing else will ever come close.“You were made for me, Calla. It will fit better thananything that has ever been inside you before and leave you aching for me over and over again. Nothing else will ever do. Not your fingers. Not a toy. And not a man who dares touch what is mine. Can you handle that?”
She licks her lips and nods, desperate.
