Page 73 of The Curse of Golden Blood
This was insanity. Pure, reckless madness. I didn't even know what I was doing anymore. I'd come here because I'd wanted to scream at him, to rage at him for what had happened. I'd come because I'd wanted to remind him of what he was, of who he had chosen to become, so that he might realize his terrible mistake.
But I hadn't. Instead, I'd kissed him. And now,I didn't want to stop.
"What are you doing to me, Miralyte?" he breathed. His voice was low and rough, and there was a desperate edge to it, as if he was barely holding back. As if a dam had broken, and all the lust and hunger he'd been repressing was rushing out.
What he was doing to me was maddening. Every part of me ached with a need I couldn't quite define. A need for him, and him alone. A need that thrummed through my veins and lit a fire in my soul. It was like I was lost in the midst of a storm, the wind and rain whipping through me, and the only anchor I had was him.
He suddenly stepped away from me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to end it. But then he smiled, his eyes dark and hungry.
"Get on your knees, Miralyte," he commanded.
His voice had taken on a dark, seductive edge, and the effect it had on me was undeniable.
I didn't question him or fight him, I simply obeyed. My mouth was dry, my hands trembling with anticipation as I knelt before him.
He stood before me, the dark power swirling around him like a storm. His fingers gently pushed back my sopping wet hair from my face, tracing along my lips.
He grinned wickedly. "Mother above, you look so beautiful on your knees."
My tongue darted out to lick his finger tips, circling the tip. I saw his cock harden, his eyes becoming heavy lidded and he groaned. "Open."
My hands tightened at the rough, commanding tone. Without a word, I obeyed, parting my lips. His thumb slipped between them, and I wrapped my tongue around him, sucking gently.
He groaned softly, his eyes fixed on my mouth. He slowly pushed deeper inside, the rough pad of his thumb stroking mytongue. The sensation was maddening. Just when I thought he would pull away, he slid further in, until I could feel him in the back of my throat.
I tightened my lips around him, sucking hard, my tongue swirling around his thumb. He let out another low groan, his free hand reaching down to grasp my breast.
"Good girl." He pulled his thumb free with a wet pop, leaving me breathless and wanting. He crouched in front of me, his dark eyes roving over my face. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To be my good girl."
Yes. Mother above, yes, I would. I would love it. I would do anything he asked, as long as he looked at me the way he did right now. As if I was the center of his world. As if I was something precious and treasured.
He took my chin in his hand, tilting my head back. "Tell me."
I met his gaze, the dark desire in his eyes sending a shiver down my spine. "Yes."
"Yes, what?" His voice was low and rough, like thunder rolling through the mountains.
I swallowed. "I want to be your good girl."
His thumb stroked my cheek. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He took a deep breath. "Do you trust me?"
I paused, something twisting in my chest. Did I trust him? The Zydar who had ripped me away from my old life? The Zydar who could kill me with a glance, or shred me into pieces if I made a wrong move? Did I trust him?
"Yes."
His hand slid around to my throat, his fingers curling possessively around my neck. His grip was strong and firm, but not tight enough to cut off my air.
His gaze grew intent, his dark eyes filled with heat and longing. He leaned in close, his lipsbrushing against mine.
"Mine," he whispered.
That one word, spoken in his deep, sensual voice, sent a tremor through me, lighting a fire in my veins. I could feel the truth of it, deep in my bones. There was no going back from this, no denying what we were to each other.
He lowered me gently onto my back. The cold stone was a sharp contrast to the heat of his body. His knee pressed between my thighs, parting them as he settled on top of me.
His breath was ragged against my mouth when he growled, “If you tell me to stop, it has to be now.” His lips brushed mine, almost a kiss, almost a warning.
He sounded desperate, like he was fighting himself, every breath ragged with restraint. As if he was trying to find a reason not to do it. Not the gods, not the curse, not even his own will could stop him now. Only me. Only my voice. One word and he’d stop.
