He's already marked my soul—my heart. My entire being.
His words are filthy, provocative, and so fucking arousing that I can feel the evidence of my desire soaking through my pants. I'm lost in a haze of lust and love, my body trembling with the force of my need for him.
"I'll never stop choosing you—never stop fighting for you, never stop loving you with every beat of my heart," he vows, his voice rough with emotion. "You're my goddamn addiction, Dani. My reason for existing. And I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt that for a single fucking moment."
Oh, for crying out loud, someone put me out of my misery! My Viking just went full Shakespeare on my ass, waxing poetic and baring his soul like he's auditioning for a romance novel, and what do I do? I turn into a gushing mess.
Seriously, my underwear might as well have taken a dip in Lake Horny.
I just had to be a complete idiot and let my jealousy get the better of me for no damn reason. I'm basically the poster child for Irrational Relationship Insecurities Anonymous.
An emotional whiplash meets self-inflicted embarrassment—the gift that keeps on giving.
His lips claim mine in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep as he pours every ounce of his love and hunger into the kiss.
Rhyland's eyes flash with a combination of possessiveness and desperation as he reaches for the lace of my corset, his fingers fumbling with the delicate fabric in his haste to free me from its confines. With a sharp tug, the corset snaps, the sound of tearing fabric mingling with my gasp of relief.
Finally, I can breathe—no longer feeling like a fashionable torture device is slowly suffocating me.
But I don't have much time to revel in my newfound oxygen supply before Rhyland's lips are crashing down on mine, his kiss a passionate blend of want and frustration. Our tongues tangle and dance, our teeth knocking together in our haste to devour each other.
I rip at the buckles of his pants, desperate to free the hard length of him from the confines of his trousers. And when my hands finally make contact with his bare skin—soft velvet wrapped in hard steel—he groans, his hands tugging at my pants as I writhe and shimmy, desperate to be rid of the constricting fabric.
I'm practically squirming with need, my body arching up to meet his.
Finally free, I spread my legs, my core aching for the feel of him filling me up. "I want you…" I moan, my voice a mixture of need and desperation. "I need you inside me. Now."
Rhyland's gaze softens momentarily as he dips his head to capture my lips in a gentle kiss. "You have no idea how much I need you, too, Angel," he murmurs against my mouth. But the soft moment is fleeting as his eyes darken with a primal hunger that sends shivers of anticipation racing through my veins.
He takes my hardened nipple into his hot mouth, his tongue flicking and teeth nipping, which has me squirming beneath him and begging for more. "You're so fucking beautiful, baby," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "I could spend an eternity worshipping this perfect body."
His lips and teeth move to my other nipple, lavishing attention and sucking gently, and I'm a wiggling mess, desperate for release. "Rhy, please," I beg, my voice hoarse with need.
There's a feral gleam in his eyes as he aligns himself with my entrance, his gaze never breaking from mine as he thrusts into me with a force that steals my breath. I cry out, my back arching off the vanity as he fills me to the hilt.
"Thatbegging, baby..." he growls, his teeth clenched tightly. There's a warning in his tone, a dark promise. "How can I fucking resist it when you sound so goddamn desperate for my cock?"
Rhyland's hips stutter as he pulls out almost entirely, only to slam back into me, the force of the impact sending a wave of pleasure crashing through me. The vanity creaks and groans with each harsh thrust, the sound of wood slamming into the wall as Rhyland loses himself in the rhythm of our bodies.
"Keep making those sweet little moans, Angel," he rumbles, his hand tightening possessively on my hip, fingers digging into my flesh. "Keep begging me to fuck you, to take you hard and claim you... Fuck, they're a siren's call straight to my cock."
"Yes..." I gasp, my voice little more than a raspy plea as I arch my back, urging him to go deeper, harder. "Fuck... R-Rhyland. Your cock... It feels...so...damn...good."
My words are jumbled, my brain unable to form coherent sentences as pleasure spikes through me. It's like every nerve ending is lit up like the Fourth of July, my body buzzing with a high that makes my head spin.
That draws another primal growl from him, the sound reverberating through me like a strike of thunder. It's clear that my words have only fueled the fire burning within him, stoking the flames of his desire until they rage out of control.
Rhyland's eyes, dark azure pools, smolder with lust, love, and something wilder, more primal. It's like looking into the depths of a storm, where a tempest of emotions rages, threatening to sweep me away.
I bet poor Erik, who is in the next room, wishes he had earplugs. But let's be real, it's not exactly a state secret that Rhyland and I go at it like a couple of lovestruck teenagers.
"Christ, baby. You're insatiable, aren't you?" he growls, his body pounding into mine with primal urgency. "You're so wet, clenching around me, milking me with your sweet cunt."
Rhyland and that filthymouth—and fuck, if that doesn't send me over the edge.
Lucian
10
