I moan, gripping him tight, making a fist in his hair, and he slams his cock up into me, binding us together, his teeth razing over my jaw, my chin, then up to my mouth, sucking in my lower lip, fucking me with his tongue.
Devotion. I feel his devotion in every ounce of his touch, every thrust of his hips. I feel like he might just belong to me after all.
As if hearing my thoughts, he lets out another rough growl and pushes me back against the glass even harder, his speed picking up, fucking me like a tireless machine. His breath is raspy at my ear, shaking with exertion. I feel the strength in his muscles beneath my hands, know how powerful of a creature he is, and soon a cracking sound is filling the air.
I turn my head to the side in time to see the glass behind me starting to crack, long spidery lengths spreading along the window.
We’re twenty-two floors up.
“Jesus,” I swear, grabbing his neck as he keeps pumping up into me, the window splintering more each time. “Solon. You’re going to shatter the window.”
He pulls his head back to look at me, eyes glazed. “You’d survive the fall.” He gives me a twisted smile. “Probably.”
Before I can say anything to that, he’s whisking me off the window and turning me around, pulling out of me right before he throws me on the bed where I bounce, landing on my knees.
Then his hands grip my hips positioning me on the mattress, and I hear a tearing sound as he rips my dress right in half. Seven thousand dollar’s worth of red silk falls around me like a pool of blood.
He’s on me again, kneeling from behind, then there’s a moment of silence, a pause where I can hear both our hearts racing, the sharp exhales of our breath, and then he dips his head, running his tongue from my pussy to my ass.
“Oh god,” I cry out, my head in the mattress, fingers curling around the duvet. He eats me out like a man starved, face buried, licking, sucking, flicking his tongue over every wet inch of me, the sound obscene, turning me on even more.
Then, as I’m coming, shaking, crying out, he positions himself and pushes his cock inside me, a low hiss emanating from him. “Fuck, moonshine,” he says, his voice strangled, and then he slowly pulls out, dragging over every fevered nerve, because I’m still coming, my body still pulsing.
Everything becomes a blur and my mind turns off, perhaps short-circuiting, and I just hear and smell and feel.
The loud slap of his hips against my ass.
The feel of his hand on my waist, gripping me so tight, his palm so large and warm and strong.
The smell of our sex in the air, spicy, heady, fully intoxicating.
He picks up the pace and the intensity and it’s all I can do to hold on, afraid that if I let go of the bed, I’ll go right through the headboard.
But then something changes.
Solon keeps saying, “I need you, I need you.” His voice raw and desperate.
And while my heart is tumbling over itself at hearing those words, knowing this powerful creature needs me, maybe as much as I need him, something else is happening. I can smell it, sense it.
The darkness.
Oh god.
“Fuck!” Solon cries out, fucking me harder now, wild, savage thrusts, his nails now scraping down my back, getting sharper and sharper. “Fuck, Lenore, I’m sorry.”
His words break off into a low, rough groan that then builds into a growl, a roar, something inhuman, a sound I’ve never heard come from him before.
His cry shakes the room, shakes my bones, and I’m still being fucked, and now I’m scared because I can feel him changing inside me, growing longer, thicker, and I can feel him changing behind me, the darkness taking over.
The beast is here.
I lift my head to look behind me, getting a sense of something tall and large and dark, something beautiful and terrifying, but he places his hand on my head and pushes it down on the bed.
“Don’t look at me, don’t look at me!” he growls, his voice no longer his.
And his hand is no longer his, because it’s longer now, bigger than my head and I feel claws stretching out over my scalp. It holds me in place while he continues to drive himself into me and I’m nearly split in two.
Then he reaches forward with his other hand, bracing himself on the bed in front of me and I see it now, what it really is.
His hand is larger, completely black, with long claws at the ends. It’s still his flesh, but the blackness is heading up his arm and taking over his pale skin, flames licking the edges. It reminds me of when they purposely burn the fields before fire season, the flames low and smoldering, moving across the land and leaving blackened ash behind.