Page 71 of Ashen Souls

“I’m yours,” I breathed. “I belong to you.”

The second the admission left my lips, his hands banded around my waist, flipping me onto my stomach.

The movement wrenched my arms. I gasped into the black silk, my cheek shoved deep into the bedding. While my lungs still fought for air, he gripped my hips, dragging me backward and lifting my ass so high my spine bowed, my weight suspended between his grip and the ropes.

The rough hemp sawed through my skin, my own blood beginning to trickle down my forearms.

“You’re going to come for me now,” his voice rumbled. “And when you do, I will hear my name.”

Finally. I braced myself, desperate to feel his cock stretching me, filling the void he had carved out inside me.

Instead, the ice returned.

His tongue lashed upward from behind, bearing down on my throbbing clit. The agony in my bleeding wrists collided with the ecstasy radiating from between my thighs. He pushed it deep inside me. He fucked me with his cold tongue, swirling against my most sensitive nerves. He hauled me up the steep incline, working me higher and higher until I was a pleading mess.

When he finally let me fall, the orgasm struck like an execution, shattering the last shred of my sanity into pieces.

His name escaped my lips.

He didn’t stop. He rode out the aftershocks with me, refusing to let me come down, driving me right back to the edge until I was lost to the consuming pleasure he wove around me.

“Good girl.” He leaned over my spine, his mouth grazing my ear. Two wet fingers reached around to trace my parted mouth, smearing the taste of my own ruin across my lips. “Now. Are you ready for me to fuck you properly?”

A broken sound was all I could manage.

His laugh was a flash of pure triumph. “That’s what I thought.”

The rasp of unfastening leather cut through the crackle of the flames.

He aligned himself with my entrance, letting the blunt, heavy head of his cock glide through my cunt, coating himself in my wetness.

The memory of having him in my mouth flooded back. The taste, the absolute power of taking him apart until he spilled across my tongue, made my pussy jerk against his hardness.

“Is this what you crave?” he taunted, his voice dropping to a command that wrapped around me like chains. “To have me stretch and fill every part of you until there’s no escape?”

“Daeren, please,” I begged. “I need you inside me.”

With one thrust, he sank into me.

He buried himself to the hilt, our bodies locking together in a perfect fit that completely erased the line between pain and bliss.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he gritted out, his fingers bruising my hips.

I arched as the world narrowed down to the fullness of him.

He moved in a slow rhythm that offered more torture than relief. I felt him expand, carving himself deeper into me. Each agonizing drag was a revelation, each return thrust a promise of the ferocity to come.

I met him move for move, demanding all of him.

I cried out as the tension peaked, my body convulsing tight around him.

His rhythm turned brutal, frantic, the bed groaning beneath his thrusts. He shifted his grip, altering the angle, and the next strike hit a depth that obliterated my senses. A scream erupted from my throat as the climax ripped through me all over again. My muscles clenched around him in a vicious spasm. With a guttural sound, he followed me over the drop, spilling into me.

His massive frame collapsed forward, his chest fused against my spine. His arms slid underneath me, wrapping around my torso to anchor me to him, and he buried his face into the curve of my back. His breath burned against my skin, grounding me in the overwhelming weight of his possession.

The ropes grinding into my raw wrists, the trails of my blood weeping down my forearms and soaking into the black silk—none of it mattered. Every ounce of pain was consumed by the absolute devastation of him breaking me apart.

When the last tremor bled out of me, Daeren withdrew.