Chapter 326. Let Me Take Care Of You--Elevated.

Chapter 326: 326. Let Me Take Care Of You--Elevated.

Maisie

Soren made a low sound in his throat, something between a growl and a groan, and his hands found my hair and waist, hauling me against him.

His mouth was a brand, licking into me, tasting and more demanding, and I scraped my canines against his lower lip, earning a sharp grunt from him that sounded like, "May."

My back hit the cool surface of the door as he began a ruthless parry and thrust with his tongue that felt like both a tease and a mind-fuck as I began thinking of all the things his tongue could do to me.

An hungry growl vibrated in my chest and I pushed back, managing a feral twist and he groaned against my mouth as his back hit the nearest wall.

He pulled away, startled by the show of dominance as my hand pressed him back. The heat in his eyes licked my skin, hot enough to burn.

This was going to end with me sprawled on my ass on that table, a rational part of me thought. One kiss, my ass.

"Sorry," I panted, fighting the sexual excitement pounding in me. "Sorry," I repeated, curling my fingers against his shirt, trying to regain my senses.

His head dropped back against the wall, and he watched me from beneath lowered lashes. Waiting. My mark on him stretched.

His heartbeat jumped as my nails raked along the mark, and he groaned so softly, it might have been a moan. "May."

It wasn’t until the sound ran down to my toes that I realized I had leaned forward to run my nose along the curve of the mark.

Shit. What was I doing, sniffing him like an animal?

"Sorry," I whispered, meaning to pull back, but my body had a mind of its own, and I had my mouth pressed against his again, slipping my tongue into his mouth.

I’d barely caressed the tip of his fang with my tongue when my back hit the wall again.

I gasped as he palmed my ass with a hand and jerked me higher. My thighs wrapped around him and his palm hit the wall beside my head, bracing as he grinded against me once, burning my synpses to ashes.

Goddess, he was starving.

He kissed me. Consumed me. Teeth and tongue and the wet heat of his mouth, and my legs were tightening around his torso, grinding against him even if I was too high to reach him where I desperately needed to.

"Soren," I breathed as he pulled his lips away and slanted it over my chin. My jaw. My throat. His fang scraped the skin below my ear and I clenched so tight, it felt like a mini climax.

"You’re... everything," he rasped, so softly, I almost lost it as his hands roamed my body, relearning the span of my waist, the dip of my spine. "My everything. Won’t you..." His fingertips teased the hem of my shirt behind me, sending electric jolts through my nerves. "... let me take care of you?"

Funny. The first time someone said that to me, he wanted me to be his whore, his mistress.

Now, it was a helpless whisper, a plea. It placed me at the very peak of the stars, with Soren on his knees for me, begging to worship me. It filled me with a headiness that lit up every cell in my body.

"Yes," I cried. "Please."

I felt the tension leave his muscles and vertigo hit for a second. And then, my ass touched the cold surface of the table, sweeping off the forgotten papers, water bottles, and a laptop to the floor.

I swallowed, breath quickening as Soren looked over me. His eyes were blazing, and he watched me carefully. Slowly. From the tresses of my hair stuck to my hot face. To my lashes teasing my brows. My nose. My kiss swollen lips.

He licked his lips. Though, the dark thing inside curled closer to the surface, I’d never seen anyone who looked more self-aware than Soren did in that moment.

He caught my chin between his thumb and the curve of a finger, and he lifted my face, an animal, rapt fascination coming over him. "Beautiful," he murmured.

And I believed him.

His fingers moved adeptly, our breaths mingling as he began to... undress me.

He took his precious time with it. A part of me thought he was waiting for me to change my mind and flee again. But I disagreed with the thought. Perhaps, that was a part of it. But the biggest part of it was that Soren wanted to watch me.

He wanted to know what I looked like when I was losing my breath to the inpatience. The anticipation of when his touch would come.

He could have just as well ripped off my clothes, but he instead slipped his hand between us, and began unbuttoning his large jacket from my frame.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

My breathing was worse than uneven now. I was so dizzy with it, I lost the part where the jacket got off and landed on the floor somewhere.

He curled his fingers under the hem of my sweater, and somehow, that too, ended up somewhere, leaving me in my bra and skirt. I’d worn one of the pretty, lacy underwear Quinlan got me this morning.

The black, intricate design was a contrast against my skin and the ashen map of scars that ran along every surface.

When Soren’s eyes touched them, I flinched, a new sense of vulnerability coiled in my gut. My hands lifted, to wrap around my half-naked body, but he caught my wrist before I could.

"Don’t," he said softly, enraptured.

My heart jolted when he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the longest scar running down from where Tessa had stabbed me, branching into another like a lightning strike just over my left breast.

My eyes flew wide at the sensation of his hot tongue sliding over the puckered line, and I cried out, feeling like he’d run his tongue over my clit instead. "Oh god," I breathed.

It had always been sensitive, but now, it felt like there was a current running through each line, humming like something alive.

I was alive.

He kissed another scar, a jagged line on my ribs. Then another. Then lower. He found each line, tugging with his fangs and loving it with his tongue, and goddess, I wanted him rewriting each line with that mouth of his. Taking something I thought truly horrifying and make it into something new.

Beautiful.

My eyes were wide with tears, and I didn’t know why. And then my teeth sank into my bottom lip to muffle a breathless moan.

My elbows dug back into the desk as he dropped on his knee and pulled of my boots, leaving on my socks as he began the journey up my calves, nipping, sucking, biting, kissing.

My chest rose and fell harshly as he found another one so long, it stretched high, toward the apex of my thigh.

His hands spread my thighs wider and his head went under my skirt seeking the end of it.

A hoarse cry slipped out when his fang sank into the line, not nearly deep enough to mark, and my hips bucked high into his face.

"Soren," I cried, tears streaming down my face. The sharp bite of pain twisted into pleasure and the cry turned into a moan as he flattened his tongue against my clit. "Oh!"

His tongue was hot through the material, dragging up my slit through the damp lace, and I jerked, sensitive. He did it again, slower this time, the pressure maddening through the fabric.

My hand flew to his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

"Off," I begged. "Take it off."

He hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled. The lace slid down my legs, a whisper against my heated skin. He lifted one foot, then the other, helping me step out of them.

In unsurprising, possessive caveman fashion, he tucked the scrap of fabric into his breast pocket, right in front of the folded black handkerchief, and though it wasn’t the first time one of my husbands was stealing my underwear, it still sent a bolt of lust to my core.

"You can’t take that one," I said, and my face flamed. "I’m going to need it later, when I get back to school. I can’t... walk around without panties."

He glanced up from between my legs, violet eyes dark. "You can. And you will."

My breath stuttered as he slid my skirt high to rest over my stomach, spearing me so wide, my pussy was completely exposed to his view.

"I want you bare underneath this skirt," he muttered, lifting my right foot to hand over his left shoulder, and my left over his right shoulder. "I want my cum running down with nothing in the way to catch it. I want you shivering every time you cross your legs. I want you feeling the cold draft against your skin, and the mess I make of you. I want you to feel it with every step you take."

My spine arched, and my nipples scraped up my bra, jolting both peaks.

His eyes lowered to where wetness trickled down from me to wet the table, and he let out a throaty chuckle of satisfaction.

"Let them smell me on you. I’ll know if you try to wipe it off. It’ll stick all over your fingers, and even Jericho will smell it." His lips twitched. "That’s a pleasant thought, no?"

Arousal and anger mingled inside me, a cocktail that never mixed well enough, and all it did was make me hotter. Wetter.

"Or you could be a good girl and clench all day. Keep it all in. Don’t lose a single drop of it," he said, breath hot on my cunt.