My breath hitched.
“Sylum…”
When he kissed me again, it was a desperate, consuming kiss that stole the strength from my legs and set fire to every nerve in my body. His mouth claimed mine with such ferocity that I whimpered into him.
I clutched at him—his hair, his collar, anything I could anchor myself to—as the world pitched beneath my feet. Every inch of me ached, and only he could soothe the hurt blooming through my ribs. He lifted me as though I weighed nothing, pressing me back against the door with a fervor that stole my breath. His body leaned into mine, trembling and desperate, as he bunched the skirts of my gown to my waist.
God help me,” he breathed against my mouth, “I want you even when you’re unraveling.”
Heat rippled through me, sharp and consuming. My legs tightened around him, drawing him closer, needing his weight, his steadiness, the wild, burning certainty of him. His hands roamed, hungry and almost frantic, as though mapping every place he feared he might lose.
“This is madness,” he said, his forehead pressing to mine, breathing unsteady. “This is the only madness I will ever allow to consume you.”
“Then I shall let you fill me with it,” I breathed. I clung to him, my pulse a frantic drum beneath my skin, my thoughts spilling apart in his hands.
His answering groan vibrated through me, low and agonized, the sound of a man stretched between terror and want. His touch grew firmer, surer, slipping beneath the thin barrier of fabric of my underthings and finding the slick heat, the trembling places that responded to him with helpless urgency.
A soft cry escaped me, unbidden and uncontrollable.
“Lucy…” he murmured, reverent, undone. “My Lucy.”
The room tilted, swayed. My pulse thrummed like a fever. Every breath tangled between us. Every suspicion, every fear, every unanswered question coiled beneath the surface, but none of it mattered in that moment.
We were need and fire and ruin.
Heat pooled between my thighs, sharp and dizzying as he continued to tease and stroke my core until my body trembled.
“Sylum…” I gasped, clutching him.
His hand moved between us then as he undid his pants, the thick, hard length of him pressing against me. He teased my entrance until I could no longer take the exquisite pain. “Please, Sylum,” I begged, “love me.”
That was all it took.
He slid into me, deep and hard, filling me inch by inch, then so completely that I cried out as my body adjusted to accommodate him.
He pressed his hips against mine, the slow, deliberate grind of his body sending sparks skittering through my limbs. His fingers tightened at my waist, guiding me, grounding me, urging me silently toward the rhythm of him. My head fell back, lips parted on a broken sound I no longer recognized as my own.
My breaths came harsh as he rocked against me, driving harder and deeper with each thrust until our bodies felt as if they were one.
With one hand firmly on my buttocks, Sylum slipped the other in between us, his thumb circling my core as he continued to move inside me.
His body moved with mine in a slow, devastating cadence. Each motion was a vow, an apology, a confession which he could not yet speak aloud.
The pleasure built like a storm rising under my skin, dizzying and unbearable. My legs tightened, my fingers digging in his shoulders, clinging to him as the worldnarrowed to breath, heat, and the exquisite agony of release coiling within me.
“Sylum,” I gasped, half sob, half prayer.
He murmured something helpless against my throat, the sound trembling with his own unraveling. His forehead dropped to my shoulder as our bodies shuddered together, breath tangled, hearts pounding in the same wild rhythm.
Pleasure crashed over me in a blinding wave that tore a sound from my chest, leaving my limbs trembling and my thoughts scattered to ash. Sylum followed with a rough, desperate exhale, clutching me so desperately it felt as though he feared I might dissolve in his hands.
For a long, fragile moment, there was only silence, our breathing ragged, our bodies trembling, and our tangled hearts beatingtoo loudly in the darkness.
Dearest reader,
As I said, you must certainly think me mad now, but the truth is, my heart had been touched, seized, throttled, and reshaped entirely by one man.
And I fear that was precisely what was driving me mad.
