Page 58 of Shadowed

LILITH

His cock is inside me and moving.

Curling. Pressing. Finding the angle I asked for without his hands guiding it—the prehensile tip tracing the spot that makes my vision white, the thick base stretching me open with every stroke. Shadow tendrils everywhere. His wings closed around us so tight I see nothing but the dark gleam of his eyes.

I kissed him.

The thought comes in fragments between thrusts. I kissed him. Not during heat. Before it. Standing upright with my hands on his horns. I chose his mouth the way I choose a lock—deliberately, with both hands, knowing exactly what would open.

His cock finds the angle and my thoughts scatter.

"There—right there—don't move —"

He moves. Deeper. The tip curling past the spot and pressing something behind it that makes my whole body seize. A sound comes out of me—not a moan, not a scream, a choked desperate grunt—and his hand is on my throat, pressing the mark, and my air narrows and the rush goes straight to my cunt.

"Like that?" His voice rough. Cracked open. The composure stripped out of it.

"Yes—fuck—yes, like that, don't —"

He slams in. My back arches off the bed and the shadows at my nipples pinch and the one on my clit presses and I come so hard my teeth clack together and the scream is his name ripped out of me while my body convulses around his cock.

He doesn't slow down.

I'm crying. Not from pain. Not from pleasure—though there's so much pleasure I can't find the edges of it. I'm crying because I knocked on his door when I could have picked the lock and he opened it and the cock found the angle I asked for and his shadows are holding me like I am the most important thing in every dimension they occupy.

"Don't stop." Crying and saying it. Both things. "Don't you dare stop."

His cock pulses inside me. A groan tears from his chest and his hips snap harder and the tendril at my throat tightens and my air thins.

The orgasm that hits is silent. Enormous. Airless. My body clamping around him in rhythmic waves while my mouth works soundlessly in the dark.

The tendril releases. I gasp. Sob. His mouth finds the mark at my throat and his teeth press and the bond flares white-hot and my cunt clenches again.

Still coming. Still shaking. His cock still driving into me through the aftershocks.

The knot rolls in.

Shadow-dense. The base swelling in that slow heavy wave I know now—my body opening for it, pulling it deeper, the muscles working the pressure in instead of fighting. The lock engages. The fullness is absolute.

His cock shifts inside the knot. Lazy prehensile pulses, nudging the spot. I come again—slower, deeper, a wave that rolls through me from cunt to chest and back down. Too wrung out to scream. I grip his horns and shake and his shadows tighten around me like they're trying to hold me together.

The two-wave release. Cool magic first—flooding cold through the bond, through the knot, the court responding in every shadow along the walls.

Then hot. His seed. Heavy, thick, pouring into me while the knot seals everything in. My eyes roll. My cunt milks the knot in pulses I can't control.

The marks spread. My wrists. My collarbones. Dark patterns settling into my skin like stories being written.

I touch the new marks on my wrist while the knot holds. They shift under my fingers. Shadow-patterns, moving, alive.

---

The heat surges back before the first knot has softened.

It floods through my belly and my thighs and I make a desperate sound against his throat because I just came—I don't know how many times—and my body wants more and I am furious about wanting more.

It shouldn't be back this fast. The first heat lasted five nights. This one came back in three days. I know what that means in the way you know a lock is getting easier to pick—not because you're getting better, but because the mechanism is changing. My darkness is deepening. The more of his court lives in my blood, the more my body wakes to it. The more it wakes, the harder it pulls toward him. The loop tightens and there is no direction in it that leads away.

I make the desperate sound again. My body doesn't care what I've worked out.