Page 84 of All Hallows Fate

In the doorway, Pain choked out my name.

“What?” I asked innocently, getting to my feet.

“You know what,” he replied, tugging me towards him with his shadow. I went willingly, and then his hands were on my waist, the scent of leather wrapping around me, with just a hint of clove.

“Any more twinges?” I asked, smoothing my hands over his chest, where his heart sat safely behind his ribs.

“Wait, hold on.” A shadow spread over my waist and rose up over my chest. “What is this shirt?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

His brow furrowed as his shadows passed on impressions of my body. “Girly…pop?”

“Can you work out the art?” I asked, a laugh breaking into my voice.

“It’s… an exploding head? Oh, Girlypop.”

I beamed. “Bet you can’t guess who this was a gift from.”

“Madde,” he said instantly, his shadow encircling my waist above his arms. “And my heart is fine. No more twinges. It’s felt pretty normal for the past two days actually.”

“I—” The soft brush of a shadow cut off my words, and then he was kissing me, pulling me flush against him, hands pressing into my body, arching me against him.

My hands ended up linked at the back of his neck, fingertips tangling with his curls. I meant to warn him that his lips might end up stained too, but then the taste of him dominated my senses and I groaned, angling for a deeper kiss, clutching at his hair.

“You look so fucking hot right now,” he groaned against my mouth. “You’re always hot, but goddamn. Are you wearing perfume?”

“I am.”

“And sparkles.” He groaned, as if eyeshadow was the ultimate turn-on.

“If I’d known you loved sparkles so much, I’d have worn them every day,” I teased, kissing his bottom lip. “Would you like some sparkles, too?”

“Hell fucking yes I would.”

I grinned, heading back to my dressing table, and yelped when hands found my waist, lifting me at the same time I was spun, until my ass landed on the table. A concealer tube rolled onto the floor, but that dark, hungry look was in Pain’s eyes—for the third time today—and I found a sudden lack of interest in makeup.

“We’re going to be late,” I pointed out.

“No one else is ready either.” He sank to his knees before me. Shadows wrapped around the zip and waistband of my jeans, tugging them down to my ankles. I sank my hands into his hair and gave up any pretence at complaining.

“I suppose five minutes wouldn’t hurt,” I mused, gasping when his tongue found my clit with fast, circling motions.

“Ten,” he argued, muffled, hands pressing into my thighs. “Five won’t be nearly enough.”

His mouth was insistent, enthusiastic, and my fingers tightened in his curls as sparks erupted through my nerve endings.

“Pain, slow down,” I groaned, wanting to appreciate every flick and curl of his tongue even though we really were going to be late.

“No.” He pulled my hips closer, spiking my temperature, my pleasure. It was always a delicious shock when that dominance came out to play.

“But I want—” What I wanted was smothered by a moan when two fingers slid inside me, curling as they thrust.

“We’re going to be late,” Madde yelled up the stairs.

Pain made a rumbly, displeased sound that shot lightning through my clit, and my hips shot off the dressing table, thighs locked around his head. If anything, it made him suck harder, lick faster, his fingers relentless.

“Pain,” I gasped, pulling his hair. A complaint he ignored with a low growl, and pushed me over the edge so fast that my body convulsed and I folded around Pain, shuddering through every rush of pleasure.