Page 73 of The Darkness is Calling

I want her for a damn long time, but she deserves to enjoy everything I will do to her, just enough to understand that no one will ever lay a hand on her again, except me. She needs to know that no bastard who dared to touch her until now should ever exist in her memories.

I'm going to find out who they are and make sure their days are numbered.

I'm the type of man who fucks hard, hurts bodies with wild gestures – meant to leave marks – and feeds on tears of pain mixed with screams of pleasure. But dusha moya is too valuable and fragile to be treated like that.

I guide her over my painfully hardened cock, and the heat of her core throws me into a frenzy that I almost lose control of.

Her delicate fingers begin, needily, to undo my buttons, too many for this moment that demands all the patience in the world, when I would like to unleash myself like an animal, to tear everything that stands between me and her warm body.

We take off my vest and shirt together, although I'm on the verge of tearing them. It’s the first time I’ve cursed myself for dressing like this, instead of opting for a fucking T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, which I would have gotten rid of much faster right now.

With my upper body naked I pull the strap of the silky material off her and kiss her neck, moving down to her shoulder.

She has the skin of an angel.

Once the second strap falls off, her breasts are exposed to my mouth eager to taste everything. To take everything.

I bite her small nipple as I cup her breast in my palm, offered to me like a dessert made to be devoured.

With her fingers lost in my hair, she throws her head back, gasping hard as my lips suck, lick, and every now and then bite her with hunger. She arches in my lap, pressing herself even harder against the length begging to be freed. I grip her everywhere, frantic, like I can’t decide where to start, then pull off her nightgown and toss it across the room.

She’s all mine.

And God, the things I want to do to her. The ways I want to feed on her. But nothing will stand in my way from this moment on, so I’ll have all the time in the world to unleash every fantasy I have.

I slide one hand between our bodies and find her panties damp with desire, but my hand doesn’t stop there. I tear the scrap of fabric apart, and the voices purr painfully when she is left completely naked.

In my lap.

I find her slick folds and push two fingers straight inside her, making her nearly scream, startled by my attack. I pull them out only to rub her clit, circling it a few times before sinking back into her pussy, this time curling my fingers inside. At the same time, I bite the breast she offers me so willingly, as if it were an offering laid before me for sacrifice.

She moans loudly and immediately looks toward the door, letting me know she’s worried about the others in the house.

“Scream for me as loud as you can, dusha moya,” I urge her as I lick her nipple again, this time sucking it before tugging it with my lips. “Your moans are only for me. No one can hear them, even though I’d like everyone to know that from today on, you’re mine.”

I pull my fingers out and push them back in, keeping the rhythm she seems to enjoy increasingly, because she grips my short hair as if her life depends on it.

Her body trembles, moving to my rhythm like a musical instrument I guide and handle just enough to produce the most beautiful sounds.

I almost come when her warm core tightens around me, and Katya cries out my name in a sigh so erotic I can barely control myself.

“Artem! I’m going to... Oh, yes!”

And my voices answer her just as fiercely when the words leave my lips.

“Fuck, you’re mine!”

She’s sensational.

A flush spreads across her chest, reaching down to the breasts already marked by me, like a tattoo I never want to fade from her skin.

While her body shudders with the last wave of her orgasm, I turn with her and lay her down on the bed. In a second, my mouth is over her drenched core, licking her like an ice cream.

“Oh, God!” she exclaims, startled, arching among the fine sheets.

And the sight of her, completely open before me, her hair spread around her head like the halo of an angel who came to die for me, makes me even hungrier. I don’t lick her slowly. I feed on her greedily. With my lips. With my teeth. And I hold her hips in my hands to stop her instinct to move.

She wants more.