Page 156 of Lured By Shadows

I shifted slightly in Culver’s lap, barely registering how close we still were, my thighs pressed against his hips, the thick press of his arousal nudging against the soft heat between my legs. Light pouring in from the windows hit everything too clearly. The marks from last night still showed on my chest and thighs. The maids must have noticed, and I felt exposed beneath their knowing.

Culver, however, was a different story.

He inhaled slowly as I adjusted in his lap, the sound low and hungry, and I felt his body react instantly. His cock twitched beneath me, thick and insistent, the rigid length pressing against the yielding curve of my ass through the thin fabric, and the awareness of it sent a pulse of heat straight through my already-sensitive nerves.

“Shall I take you here?” he murmured, his voice so close it raised goosebumps along my arms, prickling my skin like a velvet whisper. The words were slow, wicked, threaded with amusement.

My hips moved, rolling into him with a languid, aching need that made my thighs throb all over again. The soreness hadn’t left me. My body still craved him, though, and still responded as if last night hadn’t been enough. “Yes,” I whispered, the word slipping out closer to a breathless moan than an answer. “I can’t wait anymore.”

I melted back into him, letting his presence swallow me whole, letting the world narrow to the electricity of his hands and the steady rhythm of his breathing against my skin. The maids faded into the periphery. The room did too. Everything softened around the edges as I surrendered to the irresistible pull between us.

“But I have to eat,” I added faintly, practicality surfacing only because my body reminded me again. I leaned forward, catching his full bottom lip between my teeth, tugging it gently.

“I shall feed you,” he rumbled, his eyes darkening with a hunger that made my breath catch, his voice reverent in a way that turned the words into a vow. “While taking you into pure bliss, my little lamb.”

The way he said it made my breath stutter, heat pooling low and insistent, a molten ache spreading through my core. There was an edge to his promise that went beyond wanting me or satisfying some basic need.

And then, suddenly, I gasped.

40

The world tilted the moment he touched me. He shifted me with the kind of strength that still surprised me, even now, easing me back onto the cold glass of the table like it was the most natural spot for me. The chill sank into my skin, sharp and grounding, pulling me back to the moment. Breakfast lay spread around me, half pushed aside: flaky pastries, warm fruit mixes, honey-drizzled bread, their rich scents tugging at my senses. But once my eyes met his, none of that pulled me in anymore. The way he looked at me blotted out everything else, a hunger in him that felt different, as though he were set on cherishing every bit of me rather than just taking what he wanted.

“Shit,” I whispered, the word slipping out as he spread my thighs apart with ease, his hands slow and possessive, as if he weren’t asking permission because he already knew the answer. The coolness of his fingers against my inner thighs made me shiver, the reaction sharp enough to send a rush of heat through me that left my toes curling. He wasn’t just looking at me… He was taking me in, lingering, basking, like the sight alone was enough to feed him.

“Allow me to feast on this for breakfast,” he growled, his voice low and dark, as he lowered himself to his knees between my legs.

I sucked in a breath as he tugged me closer, sliding the dress up and over my ass. Morning light caught on the slickness between my legs that was already there, already betraying me. I trembled, not with fear, but with an aching anticipation that settled deep in my bones.

I reached for something, anything, to clutch onto. There was no tablecloth, no edge to grip, nothing but smooth, unforgiving glass beneath me. So I turned inward, my hands sliding up to my chest, fingers curling around my breasts as I squeezed, settling myself into the sensation. “Culv,” I moaned, my hips lifting toward him without conscious permission, offering everything I could.

And then my eyes flicked toward the doorway. Two maids stood there, frozen in place, watching.

“Hold on,” I gasped, scrambling to pull air into my lungs. “There’s—”

“Get out,” he commanded.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried, final and absolute. They vanished without a word, doors shutting quickly, footsteps retreating until the house swallowed them whole.

Before I could gather another thought, before I could fully process what had just happened, he buried his face between my thighs. The first touch of his tongue made me cry out, the sound torn from me before I could soften it. He started slowly, tasting and claiming me, the sensation shooting straight through me, lighting every nerve ending as if he’d flipped a switch. My thighs locked around his head on instinct, my body reacting faster than my mind as his tongue circled, flicked, and explored with a precision that felt almost unreal. I moaned loudly, shamelessly, the sound echoing through the room. I didn’t care if the entire household heard. I didn’t care about anything except the ravenous way he was devouring me right there on the breakfast table.

My hands slid into his hair, fisting into the dark strands and pulling him closer as he sucked and slurped, taking everything I gave him without restraint. I could feel his hunger. Not just physical, but something deeper, the way he tasted everything: not only my slick, but also the trace of blood, the salt of sweat, every raw, real part of me. He moaned into me like it was heaven, like he had never tasted anything so divine in his long existence.

His tongue circled my clit slowly, torturously, dragging the sensation out until my back arched and my breath shattered. Then he dipped lower, deeper, sliding inside me, and the sound that tore from my mouth was louder, broken, and uncontrollable, my head falling back while my body twisted against the glass. The cold didn’t even register anymore as his tongue moved inside me with a knowing, relentless rhythm, like it had found its place.

He had me fully and completely.

My breaths came in short, broken bursts, airy little sounds I couldn’t stop as his mouth worked me open and worked me apart. Any bit of embarrassment I’d carried faded away, maybe because he’d drawn it out of me with every pass, stripping back layers until there was just a raw openness between us. My hips rocked on instinct, chasing friction, chasing heat, chasing the sharp edge of something feral that had been coiled inside me all along. If I’d had any idea he could unravel me like this with nothing but his mouth, I’d have handed myself over a hundred times before. I would have had no second thoughts, legs open and ready, calling it whatever felt right in the moment.

His hands tightened on my thighs, fingers digging into the soft curves just above my knees, dragging me closer, holding me exactly where he wanted me. I whimpered sharply as his fingertips brushed the bruises he’d left the night before. They were tender reminders of how hard he’d taken me, how completely he’d claimed my body. The sting blended with the pleasure. It was all tangled together now, pain and euphoria pulling into a single knot that tightened with every movement of his tongue.

I was close. So close, my vision blurred at the edges, the room dimming and sharpening all at once. My body coiled tight, every muscle straining toward release, toward surrender. And just as the tremor started, just as I tipped toward the edge—

The door creaked open.

The sound cut through me, loud enough that my eyes flew open and my breath lodged painfully in my chest. My mouth opened in a startled gasp, the scream caught halfway out as my gaze locked onto the doorway.

Rupert and Soroush.