A shadow tendril reaches out and trails down my bare arm.The touch raises goose bumps and sends pleasant shivers through me.
I lean into it, into him, letting the supernatural chill chase away the heat of paranoia and fear.
Another tendril cups my face, brushing my cheekbone.
“Hold me,” I whisper.
As he wraps me further into his embrace, his possessive growl reverberates through me, through the walls, through the foundation.A vow and a promise and a threat to anything that would try to take me from this house, from him.
“Distract me,” I beg.
Another tendril snakes out, wrapping around my waist with gentle insistence, drawing me closer.The touch is a paradox—ethereal and invasive, seeping through my clothes like ink through paper.It sends a shiver racing up my spine, pooling heat low in my belly despite the chill.
My hands find the shifting edges of his form, my fingers sinking into darkness that yields and reforms around them, like gripping fog that grips back.
A tendril traces the curve of my neck where all three of my court have marked me, slow and deliberate, raising goose bumps in its wake.It feels like fingers, like tongues, like something forbidden and alive.
I tilt my head back, exposing more skin, inviting the invasion.The shadows respond, multiplying.One slides under my shirt, cool and questing across my stomach, another coiling around my thigh with possessive pressure.
“More,” I whisper.
The house answers for him—the walls creak with affirmation, the floorboards shifting as if the foundation itself is claiming me.A low vibration hums through the air, through my bones, a silent vow that reverberates deeper than words.
I rise on my toes, press my lips to the smoky void where his jaw may be.The cold is sharp, biting, and perfect.He makes a sound—not quite a groan, more like the house settling, like wind through broken windows—but the tendrils tighten around me, pulling me flush against his shifting form.
One slips lower between my thighs, a teasing pressure that makes me moan.I grind against it instinctively, seeking friction, distraction, the sweet oblivion of his touch.The shadows pulse in response, thickening, exploring with relentless curiosity.Cold tendrils part fabric and delve into my slick heat, making me gasp as they thrust and caress and do everything I crave.
The feeling erases the world outside until there’s only this: the dark, the cold, the building ache that promises release from everything but him.
I arch against him, my back pressing into the unyielding chill of his form, and the tendrils respond like they’ve been waiting for this, eager and insatiable.The cold intrusion stretches and fills.My pussy grows slicker and drips down the inside of my thighs with that same midnight-black ethereal moisture that feels like dew from a grave.
Is it coming from him?Or me?
“Give me your cock,” I demand, my voice rough.
Shadow Daddy growls, and a pressure in the middle of my back bends me forward so I have to catch myself against the wall, my palms flat.His hard, fiery cock presses against my ass, but he doesn’t give it to me just yet, content with fucking me with his shadows for now but promising more soon.
I’ll take what I can get.
My hips rock forward to meet the rhythm he sets—unhurried, deliberate, like he’s savoring the way my body clenches around him.The tendrils pulse inside me, thickening further, curling against that spot that makes my vision blur.When his shadows plunge deep and withdraw just to slam back in again, he coats me in that unnatural black slickness that drips down my thighs.
Another tendril joins, slithering lower, tracing the cleft of my ass with teasing insistence.It probes and circles the tight ring there before pressing in, stretching me open in a way that borders on pain but tips straight into pleasure.
I moan, low and guttural, the dual invasion overwhelming, shadows fucking both holes with synchronized ruthlessness.The one in my ass twists, exploring deeper, filling me completely while the other thrusts harder, faster, building that obscene pressure until I’m trembling, sweat-slick and desperate.
The tendrils work me open, dirty and thorough, one coiling around my clit to pinch and rub in time with the relentless pumping, turning my body into a vessel for his darkness.
Too soon, I come undone against him, the orgasm crashing like a storm—violent, all-consuming, leaving me shuddering in his grasp, the shadows drinking in my cries like they’re sustenance.
Maybe they are.Maybe that’s why I can see him now better than I could when I first moved in and feel his blazing cock, now stretching my pussy wide while he sinks in one inch at a time.
Panting, moaning, I slump against the smoky mass of him, the tendrils holding me up, while the charred parts of his cock massage my clit.
My phone buzzes from my purse on the floor.
I almost ignore it.Almost stay lost in this moment, in the dark, in the safety of my shadow daddy’s possessive presence while he fucks me so, so perfectly.I gasp, my nails digging into the wall, the sensation a brutal mix of ice and fire burning through my nerves.
But no one would text me this late if it wasn’t important.
