Page 45 of Night Fall
He lifted himself from her, and she wrapped her arms around him..
“Made for me,” he moaned as he sat down on the floor with her in his lap.
“Yes,” she hissed as he slid himself back inside of her.
He impaled her with his cock, gripped her hips and helped her ride him while he met her with every thrust. They bounced together, her breasts against his chest, her arms clinging to him as his hands ghosted her spine, squeezed her back, because he couldn’t stand to be separated from her for even a moment. But it was her eyes, the way they stared into his as if they could see into his very soul, that undid him, and he knew in that very moment that no matter what, even if he had no right to her, even if she grew tired of him, even if he hurt her, even if he perished, it would always be them. They were inseparable, undeniable, inextinguishable.
He would never let her go, never let her have another. He would be whatever she wanted, do whatever she needed him to do, give her whatever she needed to keep her happy, because she had claimed him body, mind, heart, and soul, and he didn’t want any of those spaces back. In fact, he wanted her to take them, to fill them, to keep them, just as much as he wanted to steal her own.
“Mine,” he growled again, because he couldn’t form the words he wished to when her pussy was gripping him, milking his cock.
“Yours,” she cried out.
He kissed her with everything in him, trying to convey what she’d done to him, to share and show her all the ways she’d driven him completely delirious with her touch. She whimpered into his mouth, and he cupped her head. His fingers traveled to her scalp, and he gripped the long strands of her hair, keeping their lips fused together.
She moaned louder, her body shaking against his as he picked up the pace. He licked her lips and she opened immediately for his tongue. He could still taste her blood, but now he could taste her as well, the mint from her toothpaste, the coffee with cream and three sugars. He loved exploring her, finding out more about her, but now he wanted to know how she looked when she came for him.
It was that need that made him finally break from her mouth, and they both gasped, breathless and moaning. Erik rested his head against her own and whispered, “I want to watch you come, Mya. I want to see what you look like when you’ve lost every ounce of control. Lean back on my thighs and take my cock. Take what you need from me.”
She obeyed him so eagerly, so happy to please, and leaned back on his legs, riding him with wild abandon. Her head fell back when he grabbed her breast with one hand and drew the nipple of her other in his mouth. He sucked and licked it, moaning at her taste, the feel of her, just as he thrust inside her, and every time she said his name, he grew closer and closer to filling her to the brim.
“It’s too much. It’s too much!” she whimpered.
He let her nipple go with a pop, then took control of her hips again. “Clearly it isn’t if you haven’t come for me.”
“I need … I need…” She trailed off, wrapping her arms around him, and then she latched onto his neck, sinking her fangs into his throat.
His eyes rolled back into his head, and he lost all sense of control. Every drop of blood she drank from him increased the frantic brutality of his thrusts. He was lost to sensation, lost to her, and he was never coming back.
A feeling burned deep within him, one he had not felt in eight months: his ability to create and manipulate fire. Without warning it broke free and slid up and around them, covering them in a wall of liquid warmth. The heat coated every part of their bodies, including his cock, and it caused Mya to scream his name.
Her head tossed back as he poured more of his magic into her. Her thighs shook, her eyes opened wide, she clung to him, squeezed him. If he had been a lesser man then her grip on him might have killed him, but he loved the danger of his mate being consumed by the passion between them.
And then she came, and it triggered his own release. He came so hard he lost all sense of reason, time, space. The air, the ground beneath their bodies … None of it matter. Nothing existed but her. He continued to ram inside of her until he had filled her, and when his come leaked out of her, he pushed it back in.
SIXTEEN
They walked along the narrow pathway to the abandoned church Erik called home in necessary silence. The church was on the outskirts of the city, hidden from most. It was rumored to be haunted, and had mostly been reclaimed by the forest, but it was still a structure, and there was no telling if Constance’s vampires were still looking for him or how close they were. They needed to be quiet, to stay alert and be vigilant in using their senses to alert them of danger.
Time was of the essence, Erik knew that, but he still wished they could have stayed in that cave—in each other’s arms—because the moment they separated the distance between them seemed unfathomable. Erik knew it was his fault. It was odd not remembering the person he loved the most—all the times they’d spent together, laughed together, their history—and yet still feeling the deep, all-consuming love he had for her. And then there was the grief, the sickness, the hurt and pain he knew he had caused Mya. He wanted to get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He had the need to hold her, to tell her it was all going to be okay, that he would never leave her again, and yet he didn’t understand why he would have ever left her in the first place.
Missing so many of the pieces left him unsure, off-balance. It was not the first time he’d felt that way. When he’d escaped the cage, he’d felt insurmountable pain. He pushed himself through the journey, self-preservation flooding his body with adrenaline, and managed to escape the cave before everything collapsed. But as he stood outside, free, finally achieving his greatest wish, he realized there was so much he didn’t know. The world had changed around him, and he had not seen it as a free man in over two hundred years. He had no idea where to go, what to do, and he had to admit he’d grown complacent.
As Constance’s captive he was tortured, bled to within an inch of his life for weeks on end, castrated, branded, dismembered. His body had healed from those instances, regrowing his limbs, keeping him whole, but his mind had come to expect the routine. He lived in constant misery. Now he had hope, he had the ability to live, to feed, to breathe fresh air. It was terrifying, but he’d survived it, just as he’d survived being a punching bag for years.
And yet whatever it was he’d done to Mya caused him more pain and agony than any single one of those instances. All because he’d hurt her. But he would still approach it in the same way, using courage and dedication to push through the fear of possibly losing her. She’d asked him not to leave her, and he promised he wouldn’t, but he would not let her leave him either.
He tapped her on her shoulder when it was time to turn, and they traveled over a hill and down into the valley which emptied into the small town. A few steps later, they arrived at the church. Erik guided her to the back and had her wait while he made his way inside, carefully avoiding the traps he’d laid. After reviewing them and confirming that none had been triggered, he opened the door for Mya and led her down to the basement, where the church had a tunnel that led to the other side of the cave system.
Erik lit a torch near the wall, wincing at his surroundings. He had a bed, dresser, mirror, a usable restroom considering he washed himself in the river, but his living arrangements were meager at best. Yet again he found himself not living up to what Mya deserved, and yet again he felt like a failure to her. But when he looked at her, no judgment or criticism clouded her face. Her eyes were downcast, and when he made a move toward her, a shaky breath escaped her lips.
Mya cleared her throat and said, “Do you have anything I can change into?”
They’d managed to make a covering out of the scraps of her clothes, but she needed something that would not threaten to reveal her if she moved the wrong way. He reached into the dresser and pulled out the smallest sizes of clothing he’d stolen. He looked at her, then back at the clothing in his hand and sighed. “I think these will be too big for you, but it’s the best I have. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. This is just fine.” Mya took the clothing from him and fidgeted. “Is there somewhere I can change?”
Right here, with my help.
