With an impatient groan, Rooke gave Corabeth a gentle shove, sending her backwards onto his bed. He no longer had the composure to take his time unlacing her dress properly. The predator had caught its prey and demanded its hard-earned feast. So instead, he fisted the fabric on her chest and ripped the blue of her dress in half down the middle.
Corabeth let out a surprised yelp that quickly turned into laughter as Rooke descended upon her once more.
“I liked that dress!” she exclaimed and gasped as Rooke’s hand found its way in through the rip that extended down to her hips.
“I much prefer you in red,” Rooke replied, kissing down her neck to her chest where the fabric was falling away to expose her breast. He paused and looked up at her, chin resting against her sternum, but a wicked hand was slowly sliding up her side.Corabeth sucked in a breath as it found her breast and kneaded. Fingers played with her hardened nipple, making her throw back her head.
She felt the need for him everywhere, in the throbbing between her legs, in the ache of her chest, in the emptiness of her hands.
Rooke yanked the rip in the dress further and finally pulled it off, leaving Corabeth lying in nothing but her underpants and stockings.
Rooke went still at the sight of this. He drank her in, his eyes gliding over her face, naked breasts, and stomach, the way her unbound black hair was spread around her like an onyx halo.
“Rooke,” Corabeth pleaded and reached for him. He took her hand and, without breaking eye contact, kissed her wrist where he had bitten her. Where only a scar now remained.
“You do not need to plead,” he said, “It is I who should be on my knees before my mistress.”
True to his word, Rooke dropped to his knees beside the bed. Corabeth propped herself up on her elbows and watched with fascination as Rooke made quick work of the remaining buttons and dropped his shirt to the floor, revealing a body that made Corabeth’s racing thoughts stutter.
The curves of his muscles were obvious. He was all lean strength, built for movement rather than vanity. He had strong arms, a powerful chest made for ripping its prey apart. A dark patch of chest hair stood in stark contrast against his pale skin. His abs bunched as he sat back on his heels, hands sliding up her thighs. He watched her face for any signs of protest, but he saw none as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underpants and pulled them down.
Rooke didn’t waste time, pulled her to the edge of the bed, hooking her thighs over his shoulders, and dove in. The feel of his lips, his tongue against her, made Corabeth’s back arch offthe bed. As a soft moan escaped her, Rooke answered it with his own groan. His hands tightened around her thighs, pulling her closer to his face. When she looked down to see his head between her legs, she saw only the iridescent glint of a predator’s eyes looking back at her. And she liked it.
Each movement, each shift, caused ripples of pleasure inside of her that threatened to grow into a wave that nothing could stop. The rest of the world lay forgotten on the floor along with her ripped dress. There was only her and Rooke and the delicious friction of his tongue.
Her breathing quickened. Eyes fluttered closed. Hands grabbed at the bedsheets. Rooke’s movements turned more urgent, and as if Corabeth’s hips had their own mind, she started meeting his strokes. She could barely get a breath in.
Pleasure consumed her entire being as she cried her release into the night. Rooke didn’t let up, driving her bliss to such a height, she eventually had to push his head away from her.
With eyes half-closed in satisfaction, Corabeth watched as Rooke made quick work of his pants and climbed over her onto the bed, sliding her up in the process. She had only barely come down from the soaring heights of her pleasure when it was ignited all over again by the feel of Rooke’s naked skin against hers.
The kiss he gave her was sloppy, and she could taste herself on him. He settled into the cradle of her thighs, kissing her neck and breasts, licking, sucking, nibbling.
Corabeth reached down a hand between them to take him into her hand, to feel how needy he was for her. Rooke sucked in a sudden breath, resting his forehead against Corabeth’s shoulder. There was power in having such an effect on someone, in the way a small movement of her hand made a monster shudder and whimper.
Without waiting, Corabeth lined him up with her entrance, and Rooke didn’t need permission now. He slipped into her without resistance.
For a moment, the world stood still.
Rooke looked down at Corabeth with eyes full of awe. Corabeth looked back in wonder. She didn’t know it was possible to feel this much all at once. They were so closely linked now that it seemed impossible they had once been two separate beings.
When Rooke pulled out and slammed into her again, they both gasped, a single breath from two souls. Corabeth’s eyes never left him as he set a slow pace, admiring the feral desire on his face, the way his teeth sank into his lower lip from the effort. His thrusts were deep, touching some dormant parts of Corabeth that stirred to life.
Her nails sank into his back in a way that might have been painful but Rooke only moaned louder. The room filled with their deep sighs, groans of pleasure and the obscene sounds of two bodies colliding. Every movement drove them further away from control, their union becoming more frantic, more desperate.
Corabeth was the first to cry out, her body closing in around Rooke and pulling him over the edge alongside her. Through her own blinding bliss, she felt his warmth pump into her. The slowing movements of their hips wrung out the last of their pleasure, the aftershocks becoming fewer and further apart until they were left floating in nothing but pure satisfaction.
Rooke fell to his side next to Corabeth, keeping his arm draped over her stomach as they both tried to catch their breaths. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, pulled the sheets to cover their naked bodies and Corabeth could have cried at the gentleness of it all.
Later, when they both had had a chance to use the washroom and Rooke had fed the fire, they lay together under the sheets,Corabeth’s head on his chest. His heartbeats were slow and steady, and although his eyes were closed, Corabeth knew Rooke wasn’t asleep.
“I have not felt such peace in centuries,” Rooke admitted, breaking the silence, and looked down at Corabeth, whose eyes were already on his features.
Corabeth smiled, letting her fingers trail through the patch of dark hair on his sternum, and lowered her head to the chest of her tamed beast.
Twenty-three
Corabeth
