Page 27 of Fallen Nocturne

His mouth drags along the inside of my thigh. Confusion tangles with something hotter low in my stomach. This isn’t punishment or anything I have a name for.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“I’m going to show you what we do to thieves,” he says against my skin, and the promise in his voice turns my blood cold.

My heart slams against my ribs. This is not what I imagined when he spoke of punishment. Every kiss lands a little higher than the last, climbing the inside of my thigh with a patience that feels like its own kind of torment. My fingers curl into fists above my head. The restraints bite gently into my wrists whenever I pull, reminding me that I am not going anywhere.

He pushes the hem of my nightdress up my thigh. Cool air meets my overheated skin, and the sensation makes me shiver. The fabric bunches at my hips.

His hands grip my thighs and ease them wider. The shadows help, adjusting around my ankles as though they are extensions of his will.

I catch my reflection in the mirror above and the sight sends heat flooding through my face and neck. Silver hair fanned across the dark stone. Legs parted by the shadow bindings at my ankles and thighs.

“Already so wet,” he murmurs against my skin. “Did running from me do this? Or was it getting caught?”

The vines tighten around my thighs while his fingers dig into the soft flesh, pinning me open. His mouth presses closer.

The first stroke of his tongue against my center punches the air from my lungs. My back arches off the altar and the shadows pull taut across my wrists. I slam my hands against the stone, needing something, anything to ground me as he licks a slow line through my folds. He draws each sensation out until I can feel my own pulse hammering between my legs, heavy and demanding.

“Wait… please,” I beg.

“You could end this,” he murmurs against the inside of my thigh. His breath is warm and his lips barely graze the skin as he speaks. “Just give me back what you stole.”

“I didn’t steal it.” My voice wavers. “I borrowed it.”

A low sound escapes him. Not quite a laugh. What follows is merciless. No easing in, no gentle build. That mouth returns to me with the hunger of a man who has been denied this for centuries and is finally, finally allowed to feast.

I bite down on my lower lip and force my eyes open. The mirror above me shows everything. His dark head between my thighs. My chest heaving and my fingers white-knuckled inside the shadow restraints. The stone dragon presses against my hip through the bunched fabric of my nightdress. It is still warm and still mine.

I will not give it back.

His tongue flattens against me and the pressure builds so suddenly that a cry rips from my throat. My body bows off the altar. The shadows tighten, holding me spread for him. His mouth never falters, working me wickedly without mercy. Every time I get close, he slows. Every time I think I can bear it, he changes the pace and the pleasure spikes sharper.

My head falls back. A moan breaks from me before I can swallow it. He responds by pressing deeper, his tongue tracing a slow circle that makes my vision blur. I twist against the bindings, pulling uselessly at the dark tendrils around my wrists. My toes curl against the cold stone, the only part of me free to move. I arch and twist and fight for any scrap of control, but the vines lock my hips to the stone and force me to feel every single thing he is doing.

“It’s mine. I want to keep it. It looks like...” I trail off. “It’s pretty.”

The confession earns me nothing. Not a pause or a flicker of mercy. His tongue works me, circling my core, dipping inside me, dragging over the most sensitive parts until I’m shaking. The sound that comes out of me bounces off the vaulted ceiling.

His tongue finds that bundle of nerves and I nearly sob.

“Oh gods,” I gasp. “Oh, please—”

He sucks my clit into his mouth and I scream.

The orgasm hits like lightning. White and blinding, ripping through me from my core to my fingertips. My thighs clamp around his head and my spine lifts off the altar and I am coming apart, unraveling, every thought and fear burned to nothing by the force of it.

His mouth stays on me through every wave, drawing the orgasm out until I am shaking and gasping and pulling weakly at the shadows. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. My legs tremble so violently that his hands tighten on my thighs to steady me.

When it finally passes, I collapse against the altar. My chest heaves. My body feels wrung out and boneless and still buzzing with aftershocks that pulse through me every few seconds.

The masked man lifts his head. His lips are wet. He watches me with those dark eyes through the mask and says nothing for a long moment.

“The seal,” he says evenly.

He would stop if I gave it to him. I know that. I shake my head.

His eyes narrow. The faintest ghost of admiration crosses his face before something darker replaces it.