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“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.” His palm slowly glided up my back before his fingers threaded into my hair. The moment he had a handful, he twisted it around his hand and jerked my head back painfully. “You’re about to learn why you shouldn’t wander too far from home in the dark, my pretty new obsession,” he growled before his mouth trailed feverish kisses over my collarbone.
The way he touched me was sure, and unhesitant. Rowan didn’t ask for permission to manhandle my body, which was refreshing. He also had a mouth which made coherent thoughts die before they’d fully entered my brain. He murmured elegant words of deviant filth, loaded with depravity that painted the lewd images of him defiling my body.
Visions of lustful passion and forbidden pleasure bled into my subconscious as he continued kissing my shoulder, throat, and neck. The images spread over my soul, seeping into the darker, more indecent wantonness of my imagination. By the time he’d finished making kissing an art form, I was beyond coherent thought. Rowan was carving through my entire being as if I were an apple and he had the knife, replacing my feminine energy with that of a subservient slave to his carnal lust.
“Fucking hell, Rowan,” I whimpered.
“Invite me to taste you, Bishop,” he whispered as his teeth nipped my collarbone, before his breath created a blistering trail to my ear. “Fucking hell, I want to control you, command you, dominate you, and use you until you’re too fucking exhausted to even breathe. Be a good girl and ask me to taste your pouty lips. Let me taste your pretty pink flesh until you’re a dripping, sobbing disaster, making a mess all over my face. Don’t make me ask you again,” he rumbled against my ear, sending electrical shockwaves through me and causing my nerves to misfire.
“Kiss me, Rowan.” The words were a barely audible breath, but at the animalistic growl he released, I knew he’d heard them. His fingers wrapped around my throat as he forced my chin up, until my eyes locked with his.
“Is your pussy wet for me? Answer me.” The dominance trembling in his tone had me wishing he’d turn my throat into a fucking daycare.
“Yes.” His face darkened at my sultry, whispered reply. Rowan jerked my frame against the silent strength of his solid body. I let out a husky moan as arousal began rushing to my opening. “Soaking wet,” I admitted, panting through the dark, filthy shit running through my mind.
“Is this what you want from me?” His question caused the feverish breath to tickle against my flesh.
“Fuck yes,” I moaned on a pant of molten need. The dark, husky laughter he released had my thighs pressing together to ease the throb he’d created.
Rowan’s kiss moved down the side of my face as if he were memorizing every detail. His nose rubbed over the curve of my jawline, then slowly grazed along my pulse, which was hammering wildly. Slow, methodical touches were creating a symphony of my body, and he, the skilled conductor of it. Every kiss was calculated like a General who’d leisurely sought every weakness of his adversary. It caused everything within me to tighten into a taut, white-hot ball of frenzied need in my abdomen.
The hint of whiskey on his breath promised to leave me drunk from his kiss if he ever made it to my mouth. The hand he’d gripped my hip with released slowly inching its way up my spine, and this time, when he threaded his fingers through my hair, I craved the sharp, demanding way he jerked my head back. It gave him better access to my throat as he kissed, licked, and nipped the sensitive skin. By the time he’d finally worked his way to my mouth, I was a boneless mess of wanton flesh.
The moment his lips touched mine, the simple contact had my knees threatening to give out. His tongue traced a slow line along my lower lip, teasing me until I was almost desperate for his taste. When I moaned, he echoed it from deep in his chest, and then his mouth devoured, destroyed and debilitated any reservations I’d had about him. Our tongues met, clashed, and dueled, fighting a battle that I was just as willing to lose as I was to win. His hand on my hip released, then pushed past the flimsy material of my panties.
The way he slid a single, long finger from one end of my needy, wet flesh to the other with a feather soft touch had my insides twisting with a visceral need to be filled. I’d been touched by men in the same way, but they’d never gotten my body to respond like Rowan was right now. It had never been this erotic, and I’d never been this worked up by merely touching or kissing. Something about him had me so wild with need that I felt it literally dripping down my thigh.
There was no uncomfortable awkwardness about his presence, kiss or skilled fingers that had either of us retreating. Instead, I was emboldened to plant my hands on his sinewy, muscular chest to learn every curve and every ripple of masculine strength it radiated. Oh, so lightly, my fingertip learned the shape of the deep V of muscles that led to where the taut, smooth skin of his abdomen met the soft fabric of his sweats. I pushed beneath the waistband, found his thick cock, and was just about to wrap my fingers around it when I paused. The warm touch of metal had my eyes popping open with curiosity, but something else that was beneath his enormous dick, brushed against my hand, and uncertainty of what I thought I’d felt wouldn’t compute. The one thing I was certain of was that he had a full Jacob’s ladder, but that wasn’t the wildest thing inside his sweatpants.
Rowan’s hand released my hair and found my wrist, stopping me from exploring further. When he twisted my arm, his mouth broke away from mine. A whimpered cry of pain exploded from my lungs as his grip on my wrist turned painful. The fingers pressing against my clit lightened before vanishing, leaving it aching for more of his touch.
“I didn’t grant you permission to touch me, Bishop.” The hard, icy edge in which he’d spoken had the hair on my nape rising, and his eyes narrowed, disdain churning where lust had simmered moments before. I swallowed past the uneasiness slithering through me, I licked my swollen lips.
“You were touching me, Teivel. It’s only fair I do the same to you,” I murmured. All emotion drained from his face, leaving me cold and bereft from the chilled air his presence created. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.” The words tumbled from my lips as I stepped back, my fear turning to icy talons. “I should go.”
“I don’t think you’re going anywhere unless I allow you to,” he stated with a deadened look churning over his features. “Pity, I thought you’d differ from the other Bishops, but you’re just as easy to defile and seduce as every Bishop before you, has also been, Moira Darling.” Humiliation burned its way over my cheeks, neck and chest as tears pricked against my eyes.
“Leave,” I whispered thickly. “Get the hell out of my dreams, Teivel!” The moment I screamed the entire clearing seemed to pulse as if it were alive. “Get the fuck away from me now.” It was my dream, and I’d be damned if he took control from me. His cocky smile had my hand moving before I’d even realized my intent. A loudcrackechoed through the nothingness surrounding us as my palm struck against his cheek.
Before I found out if he was going to laugh or strike me back, I spun on my heel and rushed toward the lights of the manor house. The farther I got from the center of the meadow, the colder the air became, and not even the moonlight was breaking through the heavy fog blanketing the earthen floor. Something grabbed my ankle, causing me to pitch forward. I caught myself a second before my face slammed into the ground and was quick to turn over, kicking out blindly at the unseen assailant.
Invisible hands still gripped my ankle, and I bucked wildly while I tried to break its hold. A dark, wicked rumble of laughter began vibrating through the dense forest, as if hundreds of malicious eyes were gleeful to watch me struggle.
My arms were captured, and I yelped in shock when my body was rag-dolled and then flipped. Then my face was pushed into the moss-covered ground, and my ankles were jerked apart so far that a whimper of pain exploded from my lips. Fingers threaded through my hair before my head was jerked back so forcefully that pain burned along my neck and shoulders.
“What’s the matter, Moira Darling? Aren’t you enjoying your trip to Neverland?” he mocked, twisting my head so it forced me to look at him.
What I saw had a scream tearing from my throat like I’d swallowed rusty razor blades. All at once, I was released and the monstrous bastard vanished. I scrambled to my feet and scanned the area for any sign of him, but with the darkness and fog, it was impossible.
“I suggest you run, little doe. Because you’ve just become the hunted. And I’ve declared it open season on you.” I spun on my heel and stared at the space where the manor had been. “And I’m not Peter Pan.” Thetick,tick,tickof a timepiece rose around me, and I allowed a single second of terror to freeze me in place before I sprinted toward the woods.
Chapter Six
Moira
Myheartwasthundering,but I didn’t dare slow down or look behind me to see if he followed. The fact that I could hear his endless taunts carried on the breeze was enough proof that I hadn’t lost him. The labored rasp of my wheezing breaths was probably all he needed to keep track of me.
I didn’t run, period. Running wasn’t fun for me, and I didn’t do it if I didn’t need to do so. Really, I was more of aNetflix and chillwith some reheated Asian cuisine, girl. My muscles screamed in protest, but not knowing if he hid in one of the ghastly shadows that the moonlight cast, forced me forward at a breakneck pace.
