“Please what, flame?”
“You know what,” she whimpered, tugging at the restraints. “I can’t—I need to finish, please—”
A cruel, slow smirk curled on my lips.
“And you will. When I say.”
She let out a trembling moan that sounded like surrender and sin. I reached for the water glass beside the bed and took a slow sip, letting the coolness linger in my mouth. Then I pressed my lips to hers, parting them gently—letting her drink it from me.
She gasped against me, breathless. Needy.
When I pulled back, her lips were trembling. Her eyes glassy, desperate. My thumb stroked her cheek, and I let my shadows curl around her thigh like a lover.
“Catch your breath,” I murmured, watching her shake beneath me. “Be a good girl and take it.”
Her whimper made my blood boil in the best way. I moved lower, letting my mouth trail fire down her ribs, between her thighs, claiming her again.
She was mine.
Every cry, every arch of her back, every broken whisper of my name—mine. And I wasn’t stopping until she forgot every reason she ever had to doubt it.
Rheon
The Velvet Thread
She was still asleep in my arms when dawn began to press gold into the sky. Her hair fanned across my chest. Her breath, soft and even, was a rhythm I memorized without meaning to. Every exhale a promise I didn’t deserve. Every twitch of her fingers against my ribs felt like forgiveness.
But I didn’t deserve that either.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
Because if I let her go — even for a moment — I was afraid I’d never be able to hold her again.
Her lashes fluttered. A sigh ghosted across my skin. She shifted, limbs tangling tighter into mine, her bare leg hooking around my hip with thoughtless ease.
My hand trailed down her spine.
Slow.
Worshipful.
There were marks from where I’d held her too tightly last night. There were marks from where she’d begged me not to stop.
“I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you, Hunter.”
The words escaped before I could cage them. She stirred at the sound — still not fully awake, but her body responded before her mind did. Her hand skimmed down my abdomen, her mouth brushing the hollow of my throat.
“I thought demons didn’t beg,” she murmured sleepily.
“They don’t. But I’m kneeling,” I said hoarsely. “That’s not begging. That’s devotion.”
Her body rolled over mine.
Warm, bare, trusting.
She kissed me like she wasn’t afraid of the ruin I carried — like she wanted to drink from it.
And gods help me, I let her.
