He’s fully hard, the thick bulge in his pants jutting against my softness, reminding me of what it felt like to have him inside. The memory evokes both arousal and trepidation—it hadn’t been easy, taking in something that size. But even that thought soon disappears, burned away by the fierce heat of desire, destroyed by the brutal seduction of his merciless kiss.
I forget where we are. I forget everything, so much so that I’m startled when he pulls away to scoop me up against his chest. It’s only when he starts up the stairs, taking them two at a time, that my head clears enough for a sliver of rational thought.
What on earth am I doing? This isn’t what I intended. It’s the polar opposite, in fact. My goal was to talk to him, to convince him not to—
With a low growl, he pins me against the wall in the upstairs hallway and reclaims my mouth, as if he can’t bear not to taste me all the way to his room, and I forget all about my goals. I forget that I exist outside of this moment, that there’s anything out there but him.
We merge, or at least that’s what it feels like. His mouth is fused to mine, his breath is in my lungs, his scent is in my nostrils. His powerful body surrounds me, all heat and hardness and raw, primal maleness. I’m vertical now, standing on tiptoes as he devours my lips, and his hands roam over my back, my sides, my ass, squeezing and kneading the latter, working the long dress up my thighs. Breathless, I grip the cool, silken strands of his hair as he lifts me up until my legs are wrapped around his hips and my pelvis is riding on his, my aching sex grinding against his erection.
We kiss, our tongues dueling, until we’re completely out of air. Then his mouth trails over to my neck, raining hot, biting kisses over the tender hollow near my ear. Moaning, I arch my head back and grind harder against him, lost to everything but the dark, scorching pleasure. The tension inside me is coiling and building, my nerve endings so sensitized the movement of air feels like a touch on my skin.
I’m going to come from dry-humping him, I realize with distant surprise.
It’s going to happen again.
And then it does, the release as startling as it is welcome. My fingers convulsively clench in his hair and my inner muscles spasm as ecstasy rips through my body, curling my toes and wrenching a cry from my throat. Only he doesn’t stop; he keeps going, rocking his hips into my pelvis, intensifying the aftershocks blasting my core. Eyes squeezing shut, I cry out again, and like an animal claiming his mate, he bites down on my neck as his big, callused hand delves into my bodice, squeezing my naked breast as his thumb grazes over my—
“Chloe? Nikolai, what are you—oh fuck. Never mind.”
Alina’s voice wrenches me out of the heated delirium, and I stiffen, my eyes flying open. Sure enough, over Nikolai’s shoulder, I see her backing away, her pale face uncharacteristically pink. Before I can say anything, or process the fact that this is the second time she’s caught us nearly fucking, she spins on her heel and disappears back into her room.
Which is just down the hallway.
The public hallway where anyone could’ve seen us—and heard me coming.
My face, my body, even the roots of my hair feel as if they’re on fire as Nikolai pulls back to stare at me. His golden eyes are heavy-lidded; his hair, with my hands still clenched in it, is mussed; his sensual lips are wet and swollen, parted in an expression of pure lust.
It’s the way a fallen angel might look after committing his first sin—except this angel has never known an innocent existence.
He’s been the devil all along.
I dampen my lips. “Your sister—”
“Fuck my sister.”
Before I can address that furiously growled sentiment, he sweeps me up in his powerful arms and carries me to his room with long, impatient strides.
23
Nikolai
I should stop, or at the very least slow down, but I can’t. Now that I’ve tasted her again, the hunger inside me is too strong, too feral. Like an alcoholic who’s downed his first drink of the night, I can’t even imagine moderation. The dark need pulses in my veins, a drumbeat of sexual desire and a deeper, less defined yearning, a craving that seems to emanate from my very soul.
With the fraying remnants of my self-control, I lay her down on the bed, careful not to hurt her arm. There’s a scab there now, marring her silken, golden-hued skin. The sight of it feeds the savage beast inside me, filling my chest with equal parts possessiveness and rage.