CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 44

There was no darkness inside my mind, but a girl of moonlight. The imagined warmth of Nelle's body molding against mine inflamed my blood and set my heartbeat racing. The fantasy of her slender fingers curling around the nape of my neck to pull me closer, had my own fingers clenching harder, rougher, and drew out a low, pained groan as my hips thrust into my fist.

I was consumed by the very thought of Nelle. I willingly lost myself within the reverie of her feminine curves, my hands wrapped around her waist in a bruising grip as my teeth bit vulnerable lips. I was depraved enough to desire a shocked gasp, for unease to sharpen the honeyed flecks in her pretty gray eyes, for that pliable body beneath my hands to stiffen with alarm. I hungered for an exquisite burst of lust and fear to wash across my tongue.

Desire whispered through the air and ran slowly down my spine. A shiver of anticipation followed its path and left my skin alive and buzzing. The loud thud of my heart pulsed in time with the tortuous ache in my cock. The bathroom swelled with the thundering sound of raining water, splashing against flesh and stone and pelting pebbled flooring, but beneath it all was a wicked strain of twining sounds: a rich baritone growl and a soft dulcet hum.

There was one thing I wished more than anything as I fantasized about fisting those drenched locks of pale hair to angle her head, the light above us catching on the freckles smattered across her silken cheeks. Her eyes darkening and flaring wider with uncertainty and mutual craving as she stared back, her small hands pushing against my chest.

It was a wistful torment, cruel and savage, the desire to hear my own name.

She'd refused to utter it the moment I'd stolen and hidden her away at the top of a tower.

I wanted it.

Needed it.

Was desperate for it.

Say it, say it, say it...

And when I imagined her lips parting, the sweet sound of my name—more air than voice—an intense rush of mind-bending pleasure speared down my spine. I cried her name, softening to a mantra that I whispered over and over again. "Nelle, Nelle, Nelle," as my hips jerked and my body shuddered and cum splashed over my fingers and sprayed in ribbons across the dark stone.

Bracing both hands on the stone wall, I tamed my panting breath, and the stark reality of my life began to filter in once more.

I didn't want to let the dream of Nelle go. I didn't want to let the coldness back inside only to carve a hollow within my chest. But it was inevitable, like drawing the next bittersweet breath.

When I slowly pried my eyelashes apart, and the room slowly came into focus, instinct and hope made me turn my head over my shoulder, desperately wishing I'd see a trail of small, wet footprints retreating to the bathroom door. But there was nothing on the rough stone. Nothing at all.

Heat buffeted around me and rivulets of water ran around my fingers where they were pressed against the cool wall. Nelle's scent hung heavily in the air and I frowned, wondering if it had seeped in here beneath the bathroom door, or if my fucked up overactive imagination was simply messing with me.