“Fuck you—”
Penelope gasped, burying her head in her pillow as Elias parted her legs and slammed inside her, pushing deeper and deeper without remorse until she had taken all of him at once.
“Wrong answer, Miss Adams,” Elias moaned as he felt her pussy pulsing around his cock. “Now, tell me, what color?” he asked, giving her a moment to adjust to his size while still pushing himself impossibly deeper.
“Stop,” she begged, a muffled pleading whimper as she tightened around him.
“I am going to need a color,darling. Else our play stops now.”
She still did not answer.
Elias started to pull out and then—
“Blue,” she breathed.
Elias’ mouth curved, sharp and knowing.
“Well,” he drawled, “it seems the Mayor’s daughter isn’t nearly as well behaved as she has her town believe.”
Elias pulled back before thrusting forward again, finding a relentless and unforgiving rhythm as she cried out beneath him, her moans and whimpers muffled by the pillow she bit into.
Elias lifted her leg, sinking his teeth into her ankle as he continued to ruthlessly edge himself deeper and deeper within his Penelope. Her blood rushed into his mouth, coating his tongue in the sweetest taste.
He stopped biting her only to lick and suck at where his fangs had been embedded, groaning as her wound disappeared and healed itself. Biting his own hand to stop himself from taking from her further, the metallic taste of his blood mixed with hers across his tongue.
“Fuck, Penelope,” he growled, taking his hand from his mouth and covering hers as he ploughed into her deeper. Harder. Faster. Until her pussy pulsed around him and her teethbit into his hand as her release—her pleasure, ran down his legs, marking him as hers.
Then with a final thrust, he let his own release take over as his cock throbbed, filling her completely with his scent.
Elias fell down on the bed beside her, pulling her in close as her soft laugh filled the room.
“Perhaps you should break in more often,” she laughed, curling into his embrace.
“Perhaps,” he echoed.
17
PENELOPE
Warmth wrapped around Penelope as Elias pulled her close, his strong arms holding her in place as though he thought she might wish to escape his embrace. His leg moved between hers, pulling her even closer to the point that his chest pressed against her stomach as his hands found the roundness of her hips. Her breath hitched, mingling with his, and for a moment the world outside—the rules, the expectations, the looming shadows of Henry and her father—slipped into nothingness.
She stared at him through her lashes. His mess of white hair drew shadows over his hard features. His eyes were closed and for that moment, he looked at peace. His lips hovered near hers, teasing, coaxing, and she felt the ache of longing curl deep inside her chest. Every inch of him pressed insistently against her, yet there was restraint in the strength of his hold, a careful devotion that made her heart skip a beat.
“If you keep staring, I might take that as an invitation to take you again, my Little Lamb,” he mumbled, pressing soft kisses against the hollow of her neck, still half asleep. “You belong to no one but yourself when I am with you,” he murmured, his voicea low rumble that seemed to pull the air from the room. “And yet, even in this stolen hour, I cannot keep my hands from you.” Elias lifted his head to meet her eyes. The devotion in his gaze as though she were something to behold, made her breath catch in her throat.
The rays of sunlight slowly streaming into her room caught the redness of his eyes. She found her hands brushing the strands of white behind his ear so that nothing blocked her view of him.
“Elias,” she whispered, half protest, half plea from his wandering hands, “it is morning, you must leave—”
But he silenced her with a brush of lips, a kiss that stole her breath as if it was always his to take. She pressed closer, feeling the steady, relentless heat of him against her own fragile rhythm, and for a heartbeat, she believed that the world might bend to hold this—just this—between them. That he might not always have to escape through her window before the sun fully rises.
Yet even as the sun rose, he only chuckled, low and dark, lips brushing hers again—fleeting. “One last moment, Little Lamb,” he murmured, moving to kiss down her neck. “Just until the sun claims the sky and the world reminds us we must part.”
Penelope laughed softly, shoving at his chest as he leaned forward, teasing her with his fangs. “Elias! I—”
“Shh,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers. “I would hold you longer, if the world were mine to command.”
“Oh, would you now?”
