He wrenched the door open, and with long-legged strides, we passed through the hallway.
The last thing I saw before we escaped the debauchery of this club to start our own was Melissa’s and Hugo’s surprised stares.
Time elapsed in a flash.
We spiraled inside of it, escaping its boundaries.
Trees. Gravel. The midnight glow. We probably passed all of them, but all I remembered was Radcliff’s calloused hands skimming across my naked flesh and the sumptuous illusion of his lips branded on mine on the ride home.
It all disappeared into the air.
Moments were transformed into memories.
At our arrival at Ravencliff Manor, no one was asleep, and I couldn’t stop laughing at the scenery in front of me. Mrs. Walton wore her ghostly white long nightgown, Mr. Walton dressed in shorts and socks going up to his shins. She had a shocking stare, while he displayed a disapproving one when Radcliff hurried me up the stairs.
Radcliff strolled past them at lightning speed as I gave a silly smile. In response, the flashlight that Mr. Walton was holding dropped and echoed through the stairs. Cerba barked joyfully, wagging her tail.
“Stay put,” Radcliff ordered her with a click of his fingers.
She sat and whined. Radcliff wrenched the last door of the corridor open and disappeared inside. The air confined in the room whooshed out in a gust. The draught made my hair fly backward, as if a monster had just screamed in front of me. Stepping inside, it was like entering another universe.
And suddenly, time slowed down.
Radcliff’s bedroom was a sanctuary for darkness. Despite the somber hues, the light persisted to enter through its rays. Curtains danced in the breeze on open windows, their fabric caressing the back of my shivering skin. Black satin sheets on the velvet bed were illuminated by heaven-spun stars. A misty gray sky colored by a glowing moon tinted the room in a wintry silver-blue dawn. The bedside light was lit like a melting candle losing its glow.
I gulped, meeting Radcliff’s twilight eyes. He stood in front of me like a dangerous gladiator who fought the most Tartarian battles. He inched forward, and I lingered for his darkness to bury me inside his protective arms. I’d beg in deadly earnestness.
“There is no coming back from this, Lily,” his voice whispered to my ear.
I don’t want to go back.
A feverish wave of carnal lust swallowed me whole. His dark scent was like a plant emerging from the underground to take me into a starry sky without limit. A world in the stars, until the end of time.
I held my breath. In one swift move, my bra had fallen on the floor, and wetness pooled down my excuse for panties. I was wet. Soaking wet and embarrassed by the chemical reaction of my body. He had barely touched me, and I was already ready to collapse.
The intensity of his stare was enough to make my nipples peak hard at him. The dusky night our only witness, his thumb traced my lips before I parted them. After teasing my lower lip, his hand gripped my throat in dominance. The brittle obsidian of his eyes tested if I’d run away or if I trusted him. The pulse of my heart hammered on my neck, but I didn’t back down.
If not, the desire for him to ravish me grew deeper. His calloused hand left my throat, and he descended his fingertips to my collarbone, my breasts lifting up at their approach. He brushed each of my breasts, tracing the curve of them with devotion in a ghost of a touch that sent goose bumps across my skin. Radcliff tormented my nerves, each second breaking my self-control.
He finally took a handful of my aching breast, and a gasp escaped my mouth. When he captured my nipple between his forefingers, rolling it and trailing circles around it, my eyes begged. Implored. Pleaded. I needed more. I furrowed my brows, rolls of pleasure electrifying my spine.
The broken god and the maiden. He had this instant supremacy over anyone. A sneer on his lips, Radcliff slid his fingers down. He passed through the butterflies heating my stomach to arrive at the strip of my panties. My hair stood on end in apprehension. Would Radcliff be sweet? Probably not. Would it hurt? Probably yes.
The thoughts of anxiety escaped my mind as he tore my panties apart, ripping them with a strong grip. The destroyed pieces fell to the floor. I was nude. Unprotected. Offered. Radcliff tormented me, scrutinizing every inch of my skin. But he didn’t touch me. And god, did I want him to. He was letting me linger in agony.
“You’re beautiful, Lily.”
His fingers grazed my thigh, again and again.
Yes.
They always approached my sensitive area but never touched it. His back-and-forth on my inner thigh was a delicious torment.
Up. Up.
I was screaming silently until he skimmed his hand to my entrance. I bit my lower lip to hold on to my moan, contracting my belly when he felt my wetness with his finger. He teased my folds. I dug my nails inside my palm and squeezed my legs together, ashamed of the reaction of my body.
“Don’t,” he ordered, two of his fingers stroking my folds. “Don’t be ashamed of your desire. I cannot wait to taste you.”
