He made the icy cold loop again, this one tighter, closer to her aching nipples and yet so far, then followed the trail with his hot tongue, lapping the water. She lay back on the counter, her hands getting weaker, unable to support her body as she went flat on her back.
“Why are you after—?” The sentence got cut off on a strangled cry as he slapped her clit with the ice, the cold and the sensation making the little nub throb.
“Eyes.”
The single command had her eyes flying open, making her realize she’d closed them at the touch. She watched with half-lidded gaze as his hand—his large, burned, hand that had killed so many people in her name she probably should’ve felt remorseful about it—moved the ice back to her breasts, this time straight to her nipple, circling it over and over again. Leaning over her, between her legs so she could feel his hardness nudging against her over the fabric of his pants, his warm mouth closed around the nipple while the ice went to the other one. The immediate sensation of cold and warm had a shot of fire arrow right between her thighs, making her moan as she bit her lip, her hands spearing into his dark hair. His thumb went to her lips, tracing them like he always did.
“Say my name.”
With the way she knew her voice affected him, she knew he was trying to feel the sound right at the source.
“Dainn.”
His eyes flared, the dark gleaming as the light one darkened.
He leaned down until his face was inches from hers, the vulnerability in her body and the heat in his gaze making her blood simmer.
“You’re the only one who knows my name, flamma,” he spoke, his words brushing her lips. “The only one who knows me as the devil I truly am. And seeing you here, willing and trusting, is the only time I come close to feeling something.”
Lyla breathed through her nose as his words both settled and saddened her. “Will you ever love me?” she gave voice to the deepest, rawest desire of her heart.
He simply looked at her, curious from what she could sense. “What is love to you?”
The question gave Lyla pause. What was love to her? What did she actually want when she wanted to be loved? She didn’t know love, had never felt it, experienced it except for the son she’d sacrificed, and that love was different. Or was it? Was all love not the same, sprouting from the same source?
“I think it’s feeling safe,” she told him after a long moment of thinking, a moment where he patiently waited for the answer. “Emotionally, sexually, physically, safe in every way. It’s knowing you can be yourself with someone and they won’t judge you. It’s feeling like equals when need be and being able to give up control if need be. It’s... feeling like you can trust someone with the darkest secrets and knowing they’ll keep them safe. It’s the ability to trust without thought. It’s—” her voice shook as his gaze intensified “—being able to give up something important to yourself if it will help the one you love. It’s putting their needs above your own. It’s unconditional. That’s... that’s love for me.”
He stayed still, processing everything she’d said, as though filing it is some corner of his mind to evaluate later. Her words seemed to have given him food for thought.
He suddenly pulled away and pulled back, and Lyla watched as he moved around the counter to stand at her head. He looked even larger from her upside down vantage, his shoulders broader, blocking down the light coming from the windows behind him. His shadow fell over her entire naked body and she reveled in it, waiting to see what he was going to do next. The man constantly surprised her in so many ways.
“What does love mean for you?” she asked, curious and cautious.
His head dipped down, pressing a soft, almost gentle kiss to her lips, the upside down position of their mouths making it an experience she’d not experienced before. An inch away after kissing her, he spoke against her mouth. “If there was any love in this world of mine, Lyla, it would be you.”
Her heart stopped.
“Dainn,” she whispered, knowing this wasn’t something he would just say casually, knowing it meant something.
“I am darkness.” He kissed her softly. “I live it, I breathe it, I am it. There is no redemption, no emotion, nothing for me. Nothing but you. You’re the moon to my dark night, flamma. You’re the only thing in this black sky that can thrive when I swallow everything else whole. The stars don’t exist in this space. Just you and I. You need me to glow and I need you to exist. It’s simple as that.”
Tears were pooling in her eyes. For being an emotionless bastard sometimes, this man said the most beautiful things.
“That was beautiful,” she told him so, a warm glow filling her. The way he saw her was beautiful, the way he was with her was beautiful.
He dipped his mouth to her ear, placing the ice toy she’d forgotten about at her thigh. “Now let me ice that sore pussy.”
Before she could even blink at the sudden switch in conversation, the ice dildo was on her pussy.
“Fuck, that’s cold!” she exclaimed, trying to move up and away from it when something hard hit her head. She tilted her neck and saw his hard, veiny, pierced cock level with her mouth, the angle making it appear even more massive.
Even sore and exhausted, her walls clenched. The ice rubbed her gently, from her lips to her clit, up and down, melting from the heat of her skin and lubricating her with more than her juices. She wondered how his hand wasn’t burning from holding it like that for so long, and realized given his proclivities for fire maybe he didn’t entirely mind the sensation.
“Careful,” she warned him, not sure if it was for his hand or her pussy or her mouth, but saw him gave her a small twitch of his lips.
“Relax for me,” he cajoled, and she relaxed, both her jaw and her muscles.
And then, from both ends, he entered her.