I lean down, my breasts pressing against his chest, my mouth at his ear. "Make me feel something," I whisper. "Make me feel like my body is mine again."
His hands tremble violently on my hips. "Tell me to stop," he manages, though his voice fractures around the edges. "Tell me now, Nesilhan—because I won't be able to later."
I reach up and trace the shadows binding his throat, feel them pulse beneath my fingers. "I'm not stopping. And neither are you—not until I say."
CHAPTER 11
RELEASE
Nesilhan
His control snapslike a broken chain.
The shadows explode from his throat with an audible rush, darkness erupting around us like a storm breaking free of centuries of containment. The bedframe cracks beneath the force of his power. The air smells like lightning and rage and desperate need.
He surges upward with inhuman speed, flipping our positions so fast the world blurs. His hands are everywhere—gripping, claiming, worshipping even as they bruise.
"Then I will give you everything," he says, voice dark and trembling and reverent and ruined. "Everything you came here to take."
Before I can process the shift, he drags me upward with terrifying strength—no hesitation, no permission sought—until my knees frame his shoulders and I hover above him, his breath hot and uneven against my inner thighs.
The position makes me feel exposed, vulnerable, but there's power in it too. Power in watching the Lord of Shadows position himself beneath me, ready to worship with his mouth.
"Don't look away," he warns, voice low and ragged from the restraints he's just thrown off.
When I meet his eyes, something in them makes my breath catch. Pure hunger. Desperate need. Like I'm air and he's been suffocating.
He pulls me down onto his mouth.
The first touch of his tongue against my opening is electric, sending shockwaves through every nerve. I gasp at the contact—it's everything and too much and not nearly enough all at once.
Heat floods through me, molten and visceral. This is reclamation. This is choice. This is mine.
His grip is bruising as his fingers dig into my hips, pulling me down harder against his mouth. His tongue pushes inside me, warm and insistent, and the sensation tears a cry from my throat. Every stroke sends violent, white-hot jolts through my body that knock the breath from my lungs.
I can feel everything with devastating clarity—the wet heat of his mouth, the pressure of his fingers on my flesh, the vibration of his growl against my most sensitive places. My body responds independent of thought, grinding down against him as pleasure builds like a gathering storm.
Kaan makes a sound—deep, hungry, worshiping and starving in the same breath—as if this is the first taste of life he's had in centuries. The sound alone nearly destroys me. He devours me like I'm salvation itself, and I find myself riding his face harder, chasing the violent jolts building through my body.
His tongue circles my entrance, then pushes deeper, and I cry out as my inner walls clench around the intrusion. The wet sounds of his mouth on me fill the air, obscene and perfect.
His hands slide up my waist, fingers shaking with feral need. They climb higher, tracing my ribs, claiming my body inch by trembling inch until they cup my breasts. When his thumbs brush over my nipples, the dual sensation—his mouth between my legs, his hands on my breasts—makes me see stars.
The shadows rise again, but different this time. Not restraints. Not punishment. They're extensions of his hunger, his need to touch every part of me at once.
They slither up my legs in cold, silken touches that contrast sharply with the heat of his mouth. I gasp as they stroke the back of my thighs, coiling higher, exploring with shameless intent.
One shadow slides between my ass cheeks, the touch forbidden and electrifying. It circles my rear entrance with feather-light pressure, testing, teasing. My body tenses at the unfamiliar sensation.
"Kaan—"
He growls in response, the vibration against my clit making me shudder. Not a warning. A demand.
More.
His mouth works beneath me with dizzying devotion, tongue thrusting inside me, then sliding up to circle my clit with maddening pressure. At the same time, his grip on my breasts tightens, thumbs rolling my nipples with agonizing slowness.
And the shadow—gods, the shadow presses more insistently against my ass, circling, pushing just slightly inside. The sensation is overwhelming, foreign, darker than anything I've ever experienced.
