Page 4 of Scent of Desire
I inched my breasts toward him so that his mouth closed on my nipple, and his tongue worked across it, making me moan. Each flick of his tongue was possessive and earth-shattering. It felt like pure euphoria when he took possession of my other breast with devotion before his hand slapped my butt cheek, hard and merciless.
He then retracted, leaving me flushed and wanting. With a gesture of his hand, new vines encircled my throat, and my legs spread wide. His hand traveled to my inner thighs, and I rolled my hips, hoping he’d touch my aching clit. But he didn’t. He only teased.
“Sshh.” He kissed the lobe of my ear before nibbling it. “You’ll beg for it. Now say yes, and I’ll punish you like the witch that you are.”
“Yes,” I dropped, desperate and burning.
He gave a light slap to my clit, making me gasp. He did it again, harder this time, and the mixture of pain and pleasure made my inner thighs shake and my mind go into delirium.
“Again, please.” I bit my lower lip so hard to contain the tears of pleasure that rolled down my cheek. Each part of me begged to be touched, kissed, and adored. “I beg you.”
“Look at you…” His fingers stroked my folds without entering, and wetness pooled between my legs in reply. “You’re so fucking wet, my goddess.”
He then licked his fingers with the taste of me but didn’t indulge me. He took a seat on his throne, his gaze black with desire. “Do you still want to play?”
“Yes…” The Devil was used to being in control. He wouldn’t let me go that easily, and I didn’t want to.
Radcliff wore an invisible crown of power. His smile was Machiavellian when he clicked his fingers. In response, the lianas’ knots loosened to form again in other places. The lianas took possession of my ankles and circled my legs and then my elbows and wrists while keeping their grip between my breasts and my waist.
In a matter of seconds, I found myself suspended and kneeling in the air above Radcliff’s throne. My chest was at his eye level, my back arched backward, and my throat offered to him due to the liana that had fisted my hair in a ponytail, craning my head back.
Radcliff lit a candle, watching the wax forming. “It’s time to plummet to hell together. Now, the question is, do you want it hot or painless?”
“Hot.”
“Close your eyes,” he ordered.
I complied, and within seconds, I felt the hot wax from the candle trickle down my back. My eyebrows knitted together, and my lips parted. The smell was different.Jasmine.He poured yet another drop of wax, and I gasped.Vanilla.The wax hardened and—
I slammed my eyes wide open.
A drop of sweat traveled on my forehead, and the heat slowly disappeared. I was inside the lab again, one of my hands between my thighs and the other near another vial that had shattered on the ground. Next to me, there were the essential oils of jasmine and vanilla that had been spilled.The new smells must have pulled me out of the effect of the aphrodisiac.
I regained my consciousness and wondered if this dream was the illustration of a desire buried deep in my subconscious that the aphrodisiac was able to reveal or if Radcliff had fed a darker side of me. Either way, it wasn’t a good omen.If Radcliff were to smell it, how would it affect him?It’d be a fate worse than the Pandora’s box unleashed to the world.
I cleared my throat and readjusted the folds of my dress as if nothing had happened. The illusion had vanished, like a dream you struggle to remember. I held the desk and pressed myself against it to get up. I contemplated the mess I had made. Spilled vials and papers on the floor. Messy hair and crimson face.
My stare latched on to the aphrodisiac.
That purple-red demonic vial.
It didn’t contain magic, or if it did, it was dark witchcraft that should have never seen the light of the moon.
“What have I done?”
I had created the most dangerous weapon. One that was against nature, and something told me I’d pay the price for it.
Well, that was fucking new.
It had been forever since I had dreamed, especially about my wretched past—and I was fine without it. The nothingness and shadows were pleasant. Calming. Comforting. I buttoned the french onyx cufflinks of my black dress shirt that I wore like a snake shedding its old skin. Speaking of skin, parts of my body still burned as if I’d been through a hellfire. A sweet reminder of the scarred beast that I was hidden underneath the expensive clothes.
I wasn’t born nor made for emotional connection and carnal needs. A ray of light and dust pierced through the opaque curtains, which didn’t help me, blinding my sight. Just like Lily, it hurt. It was unfamiliar, destroying me slowly, invading itself into my unwelcoming realm.
The note she had left beside my bed was living proof of it. She had the handwriting of a teenager. Naive and optimistic. It was obviously scented, probably from one of her pink flowers.
A ghost of a smile appeared on my lips nonetheless. It quickly disappeared when the knocking on my door became incessant, its increasing tempo, like a bird pecking the wood, one of extreme annoyance. I was late. I had slept too long. And most importantly, I had a strong urge to roar to whomever that was and cut their throats off. At least, I was pleased to notice something about this morning was normal.
I wrenched the door open, loosening the old handle inside my palm, only to see Mrs. Walton’s gaze widening before she took a step back, colliding with the wall of the hallway. She didn’t speak, but she was too emotive to hide her loud thoughts. I edged a step back from the doorstep so she could enter, but she remained glued to the wall.
