“Are those the only thing you can teach me?” Her chest rose and fell with each quickening breath. What was she doing? What line was she attempting to cross?
Elias’ hands found hers, sliding slowly, deliberately, until they rested above her head. With quiet, absolute control, hepinned her wrists to the bookshelf, the spines of countless books pressing against her back. She felt the weight of him—the restraint. The danger.
“Is there something else I should be teaching you, Ms. Adams?” His voice was rough, a low rasp betraying he was at the edge of giving into his base instincts.
Desperation. Desire. Need. Every unspoken thing between them pressed against her in that suspended moment. Every inch of her wanted him, every shadow of her fear only made the heat burn brighter. Darkness and all, she wanted him—Elias, and all that came with him.
She looked up at him through her lashes, both of their breaths quickening as his eyes fought for whether to look at her eyes or her lips, a battle she fought as well. And then—
“Fuck it,” he breathed. He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, his fangs grazing her lips as she melted into him. “I want you to keep your hands right here, Lamb,” he murmured against her lips, and the words were an edge of command, raw and urgent. He released her wrists, letting them fall free to roam, tracing the curves of her arms, one hand wrapped around her throat as the other continued downwards, igniting every nerve in a slow, deliberate blaze.
She gasped into his mouth as he tore her dress from her with ease, exposing her to him completely. Baring herself for his judgment. She almost dropped her hands as his fingers traced the apex of her sex, teasing slow strokes but never getting close enough to grant her true release.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, voice rough, sharp. “Do you like that? Feeling so exposed… so utterly at my mercy?”
Her pulse spiked, a shiver rolling down her spine. “Y-yes,” she whispered, voice trembling, a mix of fear and longing.
“Tell me,” he whispered against her lips, teeth grazing her. “Tell me you want this.”
Her voice came out in a shuddered breath, half moan, half confession. “I—yes…”
“You’re mine,” he whispered against her neck, trailing his fangs over her sensitive skin, enough for her to gasp with each sharp prick. “Even when you think of him. Even when you are with him.”
Penelope cried as he bit into her. But he did not drink, he released her again, licking where he had pierced her. “Every time he looks at you, you will be reminded of me. He will never truly have all of you.”
Her fingers clenched, wanting him, trembling under his control, caught in the dangerous, intoxicating pull of a man who could be cruel and tender in the same brush of skin and whisper of command.
“Elias,” she gasped, voice fragile, pleading. But before she could finish, his hand tightened around her throat, just enough to let her feel the strength of his control, her pulse thrumming beneath his grasp.
“You are mine.” He bit again, harder this time, ignoring the squirming of her body beneath him. The growl that rumbled in his chest sent shivers down her spine, wild and consuming. When he finally released her, his tongue traced the bite, a slow, deliberate exploration that left her dizzy and trembling.
“And you will learn,” he breathed, his lips close to her ear as his fingers dipped into her pussy, toying with her—using her, “exactly what that means, Penelope.”
She gasped as he pushed his fingers deeper, spreading her open without giving her time to adjust to the size of his hand.
“Elias!” she cried out, fighting to keep her hands above her head.
“Shh, Lamb,” he whispered, releasing her throat as he trailed kisses down her breasts, down the small of her stomach andeventually over the mound of her sex. “You are doing so well,” he said as he kissed her pussy.
Without warning, he thrust his fingers to the base. Penelope whimpered, the feeling of his fingers forcing themselves inside her as his thumb circled her clit, all the while his fangs traced her pussy—a promise of what would happen should she disobey—it was all too much.
“Just like that, Penelope, breathe for me.”
He drew his fingers out only to slide them back in again. Coaxing out another broken moan from her already parted lips.
“Wait, Elias—”
And then his fangs sunk into her innermost thigh. Penelope writhed beneath his hold and this time, he did not release her. He trapped her there, even as her hands fell to his shoulders, as he drank from her—he never once stopped fucking her with his fingers. Her stomach tightened as she attempted to close her legs as a pressure built in her core.
“Elias,” she whimpered, but he would not budge.
He drew back his fingers to the tip before slamming them back in again. And this time, she screamed out as a pulsing release washed over her.
Elias moaned as he slowed his hands down, sliding his fingers out as he removed his fangs. A mix of blood and her pleasure ran down her legs as his hands steadied her waist. Elias lifted her, carrying her a few feet over to his bed.
“You taste incredible, my Lamb.”
“Wait,” she started as he placed her down on his bed. “I want to make you feel good.”
