I sit up and pull my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. Her eyes track the movement, darkening with want as she takes in my bare chest. Her hand reaches out, fingers tracing the lines of my tattoos, the ridges of my abs.
I stand and remove my pants, freeing my cock. Her eyes widen slightly, and I see her thighs press together, her body already preparing for me.
"On your back," I tell her, even though she's barely moved. "Spread your legs for me."
She complies instantly, her thighs falling open, her pussy glistening in the candlelight. She's so wet I can see it dripping onto the velvet, ruining the fabric. I don't give a fuck about the chaise. I'd burn this whole cellar down if it meant getting inside her.
I position myself between her legs, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. She's so slick I could slide in with no resistance at all, but I hold back, savoring the moment.
"Look at me," I command.
Her eyes meet mine through the mask, and I see everything there—trust, need, surrender. Complete and total surrender.
"Tell me you want this," I say, even though her body has already told me a thousand times. I need to hear the words. "Tell me you want me."
"I want you." Her voice is hoarse but certain. "I want this. Please fuck me."
I thrust forward and bury myself to the hilt.
CHAPTER 7
SERAPHINA
He fills me completely.
The stretch is almost too much after everything he's already done to me. But the fullness is exactly what I need, grounding me back in my body after floating into the abyss.
I gasp as he bottoms out, my back arching off the velvet. He's big—I knew that from the moment I felt him pressing against my entrance—but knowing and feeling are two very different things. He stretches me to my limits, fills every inch of empty space, makes me feel claimed in a way that goes beyond physical.
"Fuck." His voice is strained, his jaw tight beneath the mask. "You feel incredible."
I can't respond with words. I just wrap my legs around his hips and pull him deeper, needing more, needing everything he has to give.
He starts to move.
Slow at first—long, dragging strokes that pull almost all the way out before pushing back in. Every thrust sends sparks shooting up my spine, pleasure building on pleasure until I can't tell where one sensation ends and another begins.
"Look at me," he commands, and I realize my eyes have fallen closed. I force them open, meeting his gaze through the mask.
His eyes are intense, burning into mine. He's watching me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters.
"Don't look away," he says. "I want to see your face when you come."
"I can't—" I'm shaking my head even as my hips rise to meet his thrusts. "I can't come again, I've already?—"
"You can." He shifts his angle, and suddenly he's hitting so deep I can hardly hear him. "You will. As many times as I want you to."
I believe him. After what he's already done to me tonight, I believe he could make me come a hundred times if he wanted to. My body isn't mine anymore…It’s his, responding to his touch like an instrument he's spent years learning to play.
He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against mine with increasing force. The sound of skin on skin echoes through the cellar, mixing with the wet sounds of our bodies joining and the desperate noises falling from my lips.
"That's it," he growls. "Take it. Take all of me."
I'm trying. God, I'm fucking trying. But he's so deep, so relentless, hitting that perfect spot over and over until I'm hovering on the edge of oblivion. My fingers dig into his shoulders, nails leaving marks I can't see but know are there.
"Please," I gasp. "Oh fuck."
"What do you need?" He slows down just enough to make me sob with frustration. "Tell me."
