His guttural voice punched through the haze of lust swaddling my brain. “You really aren’t scared of me, are you Lorelei? Not one fucking bit. The thought of me owning your soul forever makes this pussy drip. Doesn’t it?”
“Y-Yes.” As I turned to glance back at him over my shoulder, he slammed into me. There was so much power behind his driving hips, my hands slapped against the headboard for stability.
I buried my face in his shirt once more to muffle the barrage of moans and screams each of his thrusts knocked from me.
Holy fuck. If this devil was as close to Hell on Earth as I could get, I was happy to never know true paradise. Because the feel of his back bowing over, his tongue as it lashed over my spine, the clash of our bodies, the kiss of his cock inside my darkest, deepest place?
Pure, rapturous bliss.
Something between us snapped. I could feel the air growing more heated with his need exploding into a dangerous inferno. He was losing control of his humanity. Any second now, I’d be at the complete mercy of an unhinged monster.
And the most messed-up thing?
I wanted his most primal, feral side to drag me into the darkness with him.
Chapter Seven
Titus
Iwassocloseto losing it. She was too tight, too wet. Too perfect.
I was wrapped up in her, her cunt squeezing me until my mind broke from the pleasure of it. Monstrous need roared inside me, driving me to the brink of insanity as I lost myself in her.
For several seconds—or minutes, time was meaningless when I was inside her—my vision went dark.
All that mattered was the pleasure she offered, the feel of her and burrowing as close to her as I possibly could without rearranging her insides.
Hell, even if I had to break her. It didn’t matter.
“Titus!” Her pathetic mewls jerked me from my trance. My vision focused on her backside, ice filling my veins as I registered the image of claw marks I’d made. They were shallow, thank fuck, but bright shocks of red beaded over the gashes.
At the sight of her blood, my dick should have softened. Instead, I was harder than ever.
I pulled out of her and stumbled off the bed.
“Why…why are you stopping?”
“Why?Lore, I hurt you.”
She twisted to look at her back before brushing it off with a roll of her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
Moving into a sitting position, she quickly tugged her clothes back on now that she didn’t have my heat to keep away the cabin’s chill. “So? If we’re going to be together, you should probably get used to seeing my blood. You’re a half-devil. You have claws for freak’s sake.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her lips slashed with a dubious frown. “Says the guy who wants to eat my soul.”
“That’s different.”
She held my gaze, her arms folding over her breasts. “How?”
“It just is,” I scolded.
Her eyes followed me as I trudged to the table and angrily went through my backpack. I unpacked some tools I kept—a roll of duct tape, a wrench, a swiss army knife. Then I packed them away again. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. It was more of a comfort thing.
These things were the last possessions I had of my old life. As much as I was glad to leave it behind, touching them calmed me down and reminded me of my human side, and how it was more important than ever to keep that part of me present around Lore as much as possible.
