[THIS STORY WILL BE TAKEN DOWN ON SEPTEMBER 30, 2024]
He had hunted me, captured me, and locked me in a tower.
Season 3 'Of Crows and Thorns'
***
While in RISING, Tabitha discovers something peculiar that may assist Nelle in her plan to escape the...
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Purposely arching back, I ground against Graysen. He groaned, low and raw, as black lashes squeezed shut and his cock flexed and dug into my lower back.
"You're a bastard." But the words came out breathlessly.
"Tell me something I don't know," he gritted out, the square-tipped fingers biting into my ribs. Hard enough I'd bruise. And it felt so good I wanted those fingerprints to stain my flesh.
I taunted him with a roll of my hips. "Your heart is going to shatter when you put me up on the auction block at the Witches Ball."
His jaw clenched as if he were bracing himself. A moment later his eyes snapped open. A storm of emotion tumbled within their inky abyss, so swift and tangled together I couldn't read them. His voice was low and gruff and pained. "I have no heart, remember?"
I tipped my chin up. "Neither do I."
It was easier lying to each other in the mirror, our reflections marred by steam.
My chest swelled and fell with shallow breaths. A carnal knowledge my body knew only too well had blistering heat razing outward from my aching core, and my hips were desperate to move in an ancient rhythm of desire and need. Our height difference was too much for what I hungered for. I braced my palms against the slippery vanity top and I raised myself up higher by climbing onto the flat and wide handles of the vanity's bottom drawer to balance on my toes.
Confusion clouded his expression.
The skirt of my oversized dress was bunched between my fingers as I slowly drew it upward in gracefully draping folds, up, up, up, so the scalloped trim of my panties were exposed.
"Holy shit..." I heard him mutter under his breath. "Fuck."
My stance allowed me to push my ass back, wiggle, and angle his cock through the apex of my parted thighs. We both let out a low curse at the delicious feel of him spearing along my sex, hidden behind arousal-damp fabric.
"Fuck..." he hissed, then groaned once more. "What are you doing?"
Taking what I wanted. Using him.
Surely it was fucking obvious? I wiggled, bearing down on his cock, and the gruff grunt he made was so dirty hot and embarrassingly loud, that I had to bite my lip to stop myself from both laughing and replying with my own indecent moan.
Oh my gods...
So fucking good.
He pressed a flattened hand against my spine to gently urge me downward. But I resisted, fighting back because he wanted it too much. A moment later, I surrendered and allowed him to position me lower. The front of my dress gaped low. My breasts were barely contained by the bra and were tantalizingly on display, yet he was captivated by my spine. He ran a single fingertip along the ripple of bone. "This, your fight—that's what I love most."
