Page 54 of Red Masquerade

He slipped the dainty straps of my dress off my shoulders, the fabric hardly staying above my breasts, my chest pressed against his. The cool air on my exposed chest sent goosebumps across my flesh, his hands smoothing over my arms, leaving a trail of shivers in his wake.

I pulled his hair so hard I knew it must hurt, but I couldn’t let go. Couldn’t let him leave me, even for a second.

He nipped at my lip, sharp teeth threatening to puncture. His hands roamed down my sides, around my hip, and under my ass, before he suddenly hitched my knees up around his hips. I squealed, gripping onto him harder as we fell backward.

He loomed over me, the soft earth beneath me, a whisper of a breeze dancing between us. He settled between my legs, still clothed, and it was maddening, the press of him against my thighs. I’d never felt so eager for anyone else, not even after I believed him dead. I burned for him the first time we did this, and the fire was relit, spreading through my veins, a want so intense I shook.

He just gazed at me with hooded eyes, like he was soaking in the sight of me, beneath him, sprawled out on the grass, the image of scandal. My skirt was around my hips, my stockings the only barrier between us. My shoes had fallen off at some point in our haste, away in the grass.

“This is a sight I missed,” he mused, untucking his shirt, the clicking of his belt sounding out as he unbuckled. My toes curled.

When he was free, he fell back upon me, his mouth falling straight to my throat. He licked across my collarbone, sucking at my skin, biting at me just hard enough to elicit gasps from me. The sky above me sparkled with stars as he kissed and bit every inch of flesh at my neck, then my ear. I arched underneath him, my fingers clawing at his arms.

I didn’t want him to stop, and we’d hardly started. He could ravish me only with his kisses, with his tongue, and I’d feel like I’d found heaven. “Don’t stop,” I breathed, digging my nails into fists on his sleeves.

His tongue trailed to my breasts, sending electricity through me. My eyes rolled back into my head at the sensation of his mouth on me, his hands roughly pulling my dress down so I was bared to him. He palmed one breast, squeezing roughly, almost to the point of pain. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes, but they did not fall. And suddenly, he was sucking, pulling my nipple into his mouth, claiming my breasts for his own. I cried out, my hips finding purchase against his, my legs wrapping around him.

He groaned and ground his cock even harder against me.

“I won’t stop,” he said. “Once I have you again, it’s only you. It was only ever you.”

He moved against me so harshly, I knew the frustration building in him was to the point of pain. All these years, I’d been with others, moved on from him. Let other men touch me, tease me. But he’d never moved on from me, a truth I felt so deeply.

I shut my eyes, letting the tears fall, and brought his face up to mine again.

“I won’t let you go again,” he said, with so much urgency, a wild look in his eyes. “You’ve always been mine. You were made for me.”

I nodded, because it felt so true, like it was written in the stars above us. Like we had been denied each other, star-crossed, by something as small as humanity, a force that couldn’t keep us apart. We’d both been alive on this earth, and I didn’t even know it, and now I felt so stupid for not believing in him, for not believing that he’d find a way back to me.

My stockings were suddenly ripped apart, the flimsy fabric hanging on just barely to one of my knees, and he was pressingagainst me in a friction so delicious I wanted to scream. His soft flesh was hard, steely and long, bigger than I remembered, and he was not even yet inside. My hips moved on their own, drawing him in closer.

His hands harshly pushed my arms into the ground, forcing me in place. “You have to say it,” he demanded. “Say that you are mine.”

The head of his cock brushed against the apex of my thighs, and I sighed. “I’m yours,” I breathed. “I’m yours, I’m yours.” Repeating over and over like a prayer, willing it to be true.

And he pressed into me, a burning stretch forcing my thighs even further apart. He groaned, his face settling into the space against my neck. He took me all at once, sliding in slowly, forcing me to accommodate his size.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he said against me, bottoming out. It was overwhelming, the stretch so harsh, the intrusion of him inside me pushing against the deepest part within me. He stilled, though I felt him twitch, the head of his cock as deep as it could go.

My thighs burned, my clit throbbing. I couldn’t relax, my muscles squeezing him, even when I felt I was splitting apart. My breaths came shallow, and I knew if he were anyone else, I’d tell him to stop, that I couldn’t do it. That it was too much.

But I wanted that burn, wanted to bleed for him. I wanted him to claim me again.

Tears fell down my face, mingling with my ruined curls. I squeezed my eyes shut until his thumb ran against my cheek.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

When I opened my eyes, he brought his thumb to his lips, licking my tear away, that sharp tooth glinting in the moonlight.

And then he started to move, slowly withdrawing, only enough to cause that drag of pleasure. My thighs clenching, shaking. I cried out as he thrust back into me, forcing his way back in. He brushed against my clit, and my muscles fluttered. My legs around him tightened, pulling him closer to me.

“You’re mine,” he said, retreating, dragging out, the ridge of his cock rubbing against every sensitive part inside of me. He gripped my jaw. Dragging in and out, in and out. “You’ve always been mine. This cunt is mine. These lips are mine.” He forced his thumb through my lips, pressing down on my tongue. Quickening his pace, ever so slightly, his grip on my jaw and mouth like a vise.

“Say it,” he urged.

“I’m yours.” I could hardly speak as he thrust into me, his pace becoming urgent, claiming, stretching me until he touched every part of me. My muscles molded to fit him, struggling to accommodate his ferocity, the pressure so intense I saw stars. He was claiming me wholly, and I felt it down to my bones, to the cells that made me up.

He withdrew suddenly, sitting back on his knees. The midnight air felt cool against my exposed flesh, my core empty. A jagged breath escaped me, shock at the emptiness and the cold air, before his hands were on my hips and he flipped me over. My hands and knees dug into the grass, just the thin barrier of his jacket between me and the earth. His hand smoothed over my ass, my hip, before he lined himself up again.