“Hngh,” I groan, and I can feel myself tightening on reflex around his cock. Rowan’s hips jerk as he chokes on air.
“Oh, god,” he whimpers, and that spurs me on even further.
I find myself pushing down onto him, meeting his every thrust. The new movement causes him to shift slightly, and now he’s hitting that little spot inside of me, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from his teeth etched into my skin.
“It’s… it’s so hot,” I say, and Rowan’s panting grows heavier. I can feel his eyes on my face; I can feel his sweat mixing with mine where our skin is flush together.
“My sweet angel,” he mutters, his hips jerking forward roughly, which pulls a loud moan from my throat. “With my teeth on your chest and my cock buried in your ass, I bet you look like mine. I bet anyone would look at you and think you look just like Rowan Alexander’s little angel.”
I’m so close to coming again. Just from that one sentence alone, I feel as if I’ll come at any second. But I refuse to finish without him—not again. I roll my hips down onto him once more.
“You tell me,” I say, finally looking up to meet his gaze. My hands find his cheeks again. “Watch how deeply your cock is fucking into me, see how you’ve made me bleed, and tell me if I look like I belong to you.”
Rowan whines gently, his bottom lip trembling as his eyes fall from mine to where he’s disappearing inside of me over and over again. His breathing picks up even further, his hips shoving forward harder.
I have to grit my teeth to keep from coming.Come on, Rowan.
Those green eyes trail up my body almost hesitantly, as if he’s scared to see. As if ending this moment means ending the two of us—that we’ll die here together.
Finally, his eyes land on the bloody mark on my chest, and his mouth falls open as a loud, long groan escapes him.
I feel it as Rowan comes, as warmth spreads inside of me while he empties into the condom. His hips jerk forward relentlessly, his stomach rubbing my dick raw.
Seeing his expression—the sheer desire and awe at his own handiwork and what it signifies—it sends me right over the edge. I’d already been balancing there for so long.
And Rowan is fucking me through my release. He’s fucking me like he’s apologizing, like he’s sorry. Like he’s begging for redemption.
A devoted follower offering his body to the angel he worships so desperately that he’d rip into their flesh with his bare teeth.
And I wish I could pinpoint what he’s apologizing for. I wish I could find it and wrap it in my fist so that I can crush it and quell his crying—but how am I meant to do that around my own tears?
Rowan is clinging to me through each sob, each combined cry. We share this pleasure, this pain, this unfiltered desire and need. And as much as he’s claimed me, I’m realizing I neverwanthim to let me go.
Keep chasing me, Rowan. Continue to dig your teeth into my skin and devote your time to me. I can be your angel. I can be good.
“Elijah,” he chokes out, sending one last harsh thrust into my body. “Fuck, Elijah. You looked so good. Say it, please. I’m begging you. Say it.”
He’s not being direct, but I understand him. Somehow, I always seem to understand him.
“I belong to you, my flower. I belong to you,” I tell him.
And Rowan continues to cry.
With my blood between his teeth and my arms wrapped securely around him, Rowan lies over me and intertwines his tears with mine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rowan
Rain is falling steadily, a constant stream that is lulling me back to sleep repeatedly. By the time I fully rouse, it’s 9 a.m.
Elijah’s apartment is void of noise—aside from the patter of raindrops against the windows—and the thick clouds overhead cast a dreary shadow over the bedroom.
I’m alone.
The right side of the bed has grown cold, so he must have gotten up rather early, which makes sense. It’s Monday, and Elijah has work today.
Fully naked, I stretch myself out over the mattress. The pillows smell of his shampoo, the sheets smell of his skin. Elijah’s essence surrounds me completely, and I find myself lost in it for a short while.
