AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He kept his hands pressed against the doors, his head bowed, his breaths labored. When he spun toward me, any thoughts left in my mind scattered at the naked desire on his face.
He took a deliberate step. The electricity that danced in his eyes sparked through my body. My heart pounded at that fiery gaze, the scruff on his cheeks and the flush of his skin.
He took another deliberate step, coming closer. “May I kiss you, Chels?”
I almost laughed at such a simple question at a time like this, but I was already imagining his mouth meeting mine, of our tongues thrusting together, of his body on me and my skin grew as flushed as his.
“Yes.”
As if let loose from some invisible leash, he rushed forward, colliding with me, and his tongue was between my lips in an instant. The force of our bodies coming together pushed me back. My heel hit the step leading to our thrones, and I gasped as I lost my balance, toppling backward. I gripped his tunic in a vain attempt to save myself, bringing him with me. His arm came around my waist and he pulled me against him while catching both our weight against the stone steps with his other arm.
A low sound emitted from him somewhere between a chuckle and a growl. He pivoted, laying me onto the strip of purple velvet carpet running across the throne room floor, the layers of my skirts spreading out in silken midnight streams.
His body pressed onto mine, hands traveling over me, on my arm, caressing my face, my breasts, my stomach. I clutched his neck as his mouth grazed down my throat, wet and warm, pausing to travel over my collarbone before plunging lower. Already my back arched, my shoulders digging into the floor, my breaths coming in quick gasps by the time his lips met my breasts. He nibbled along the neckline of my dress, moving among the crests of the stitched black vines, his teeth grazing my skin, his tongue shoving into the crevice between my bosom.
“May I touch you underneath your gown, Chels?”
“Yes.” The answer came out as a primal groan rising from somewhere deep within.
He sat back and there was a rush of silk as Dagda shoved my skirts up, bunching them around my waist. They fell to the side in silver-lined cresting heaps. The warmth of his hands on my legs sent a charged current through me, igniting a pulsing between my thighs. Like he was performing one of his searches, he slid his palms upward. When he reached the sensitive skin of my upper legs, he moved, inch by inch, tracing feather light slow circles as his touch rose higher and higher and became firmer with each rotation. I clutched my skirts, my moans becoming constant, the anticipation of it gathered in my chest, the tension between the sensuality of each caress and the desire for him to reach that throbbing apex became unbearable. I let out a small cry, the only release possible, because I’d be damned to stop him.
He watched me as his fingers pressed into my skin. The higher he moved, the more I struggled for breath, the hotter the fire blazed in his gaze. My throat was ravaged, shredded from how many times I had gasped for air.
The pulsing between my legs ignited into a piercing burning from sheer expectation. His fingers dipped into my panties and when his hand reached its destination, the cry that rose out of me was loud and involuntary.
The smile that lit Dagda’s face was both dark and arousing at once. His free hand moved over my breasts, pressing them, rubbing them. His blazing eyes were burning my body, melting me, consuming me. Or perhaps that was his desire raging under my skin. I didn’t know. Didn’t care.
I rocked into his molten touch, over and over.
Holy shit. Holyshit.
When my muscles locked and cry after cry burst from me, and my hands tore at my skirts, he moved his fingers. They dug deeper, wet and slick, into my panties, tracing a single finger around the sensitive skin at my opening, causing a deep aching want for him to just plunge it inside me. But he didn’t, as if he knew how much it drove me insane to hold off at the cusp. It moved in a steady rotation, stroking, stroking. His other hand slipped under the waistband of my underwear, teasing it low over my hips.
“May I make love to you, Chels?”
His finger made another taunting rotation.
A deep moan ground from me. “Yes.”
An uncontrolled anticipation speared through me. He jerked my panties to my ankles, then split his pants open, and he was between my legs. He was shoving into me. Oh god, he hadn’t even undressed.
He was just taking me here and now.
I was so tender already, so wet. His next thrust shoved deeper. I gripped his tunic, gasping. Shit, I loved the feel of him inside me, of him rubbing between that sensitive place. My hips rolled with him.
He thrust again and again.
Desire roiled through every part of me, driving down in between my legs, making my chest ache, drawing the air from my lungs. My desire, his desire. His eyes were dark, wild. A freeing sense of release shooting through me, like a starved beast ready to shred everything to hell.
He wrapped his hands around my thighs, tugging me closer as he pressed even harder, deeper. A growl rolled out of him. I felt it too. I felt it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. The burning, the desire. His, mine, ours. Dagda’s movements became rough, ungiving. He moved faster, harder, then released a loud groan as he spilled into me. Unbound ecstasy claimed me. He drew me roughly against him, and my world shattered. I shoved into the marble floor and shrieked.
When he pulled out of me, I lay there, shredded and desperate for more. To feel him while he was feeling me was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Dagda collapsed beside me, breathing heavily, yet relief and deep satisfaction stormed through me. Dagda’s emotions.
Ever since he had shown up at that park by my house, he had wanted this. He had wanted me. For twenty-one years, he’d spent waiting, wanting.
And I had just given it to him.
Nervous butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I wished to ask him if he enjoyed it, but didn’t know how to find the words without sounding so ridiculously inexperienced.
