Every Shade of Shadow: A Dark Magic Academy Romance, page 26
Damien doesn’t make this any easier on me. He feasts on my pussy, his tongue sliding down my slit and getting a proper taste of my desire. He rolls it back into his mouth, laying a trail of hot kisses down my cleft. His upper lip bumps into my clit over and over again. His fingers circle my cunt, his teeth grazing my clit. One index finger slips through my folds, curling upwards in a come-hither motion.
My mind whites out from the intensity of sensation. Once again, I wish I could move as his tongue parts my folds, penetrating me in one long, delicious stroke.
The tip of his tongue moves out, a fleshly explorer, probing into the heat and desire that’s pooled fast between my legs. I want to place my hands on the top of his head, grab fistfuls of hair and pull him towards me, urge him deeper, but I remain paralyzed.
I moan internally when his tongue sweeps down and burrows deeper, his rough fingers holding me open. The shadows rush to join him, to increase the torture.
I’m self-conscious of how I am down there, how wet I am, but I know he doesn’t care. His mouth moves over my mound as he laps higher in long, flat strokes against my clit, rubbing the tip of his tongue back and forth over the swollen bud. The opposite motion sets my nerves ablaze. Unfortunately, it also intensifies the mix of frustration and anger building within me.
I am being worshipped. There’s no other way for me to describe this. Damien is eating me out, his grunts attesting to his own pleasure. There’s no sense of urgency in his moves whatsoever. More desire pools in my core as orgasm approaches. A sudden spark of lightning later and I come, juices rushing over his tongue.
This orgasm seems endless, my unrelenting lover living up to his reputation. He doesn't stop. He knows how sensitive my clit is, instead working around it. His tongue and fingers are pushing me higher. I want to scream in ecstasy, but I can’t.
Finally, he pulls away, hovering above me and wiping his mouth. "How tasty you are, my pet."
The bed shifts below me, a transfer of weight.
It’s so strange being immobilized like this, so completely powerless.
The head of his cock nudges at my entrance. He slides in, ever so slowly. The swollen head of his cock disappears inside of me and withdraws. One more push sends him more than halfway in. I whimper internally, trying to arch into him. Again, this is hopeless. I’m still frozen.
"Patience," he croons. "We have all night."
He pushes in another inch, then draws back out. My cunt flutters around him, desperate for more, desperate for all of him, but he denies me. I want him to fill me. To show me how much he wants to conquer my body one more time, but he’s resisting. He repeats this leisurely pace, sliding in and out. He’s toying with me, prolonging my agony.
"Please," I beg in my mind. "Please fuck me."
"Not yet." A sly smile plays on his lips as he continues his sensual torture. "You will come again and again on my cock before I give you your ultimate release."
He drives into me again, deeper this time. I scream inside as another orgasm rips through me, my vision going dark at the edges. His face swims in and out of focus.
"Is that two?" he whispers and begins moving again. “How wanton you are, my pet.”
A sheen of sweat covers my skin, my body heavy but for the Professor’s thrusting.
My pussy is swollen and sensitive by now, but he’s not going to relent. That’s not his style, no.
I crest over again, the orgasms starting to swim together in my head and the sensation too much to bear. I thought multiple orgasms were a myth, an urban legend, but I’m proved wrong tonight. It is a maelstrom of sensation almost too much to bear.
Not like I have any choice in the matter.
"I've never had a lover come so easily or so often," I hear him say. “You truly are a miracle, my pet.”
Panic rises in my chest. How many more times will he force me to climax before releasing me from this spell? I'm already exhausted, wrung out. I’m covered in sweat—drops of it are dribbling down my scalp. I don't know how much more of this I can take.
He's utterly ruthless in his use of my body. He cares not for my limits. All that matters now is sating his own selfish desire.
The head of his cock presses into my tender flesh again. I brace myself for the onslaught of sensation, but instead of thrusting deep, he remains poised at my entrance, leaning forward to stare into my glassy, fixed eyes.
"Tell me to stop, speak the word, and I will." His lips twist in a mocking smile.
I struggle with all my might to form the word, to move my lips and tongue into the required position, but it's no use. It’s one fucking syllable, but I cannot speak. I cannot escape. I am his, to use as he pleases.
He slides home then in one brutal thrust. I scream again internally, coming apart around him, darkness threatening to claim me once more.
It takes me several seconds to come to.
He reaches forward and slaps a breast, the burn and shame rising ten-fold while I’m prone like this.
“Look how your tit blushes at my hand,” he says, drawing away.
I’m sure he’s done, but rough hands are flipping me over onto my belly, my legs hanging over the side of the bed. He forces them apart, the full weight of his hand clapping down on my ass cheek. In a moment, his other hand falls hard on my flesh. Consecutive slaps on my ass cheeks send waves of pain coursing through my body. Any pleasure I get from this is short-lived. I’m positive my skin is turning red with each one of his blows. It’s agony, tears spilling from my eyes. He slaps at my ass in alternate, laughing quietly at my pain.
Such is the intensity of each blow I’m starting to shift down the bed face-down.
Panic blanks out all else.
I can’t breathe against the mattress like this, can already feel my lungs straining.
Help! I scream.
His cock slides in from behind—in and out, shifting and pulling at the slack lips of my sex.
His balls press up against my clit, the flesh of my ass still burning hot from his hand.
Help, I plead. To no avail.
My chest is stone, my lungs burning. Things start to go fuzzy, that familiar drowsiness before I fall under. But just as I’m about to go unconscious, my head is turned to the side and air filters back through my nostrils.
Starved of oxygen, the Professor’s cock buried deep into my body, his fingers clawing deep into the flesh of my ass, I come.
This climax unhinges me completely. My head goes light and I sink into that drowsiness again, let the darkness take me.
*
I come to propped up in a chair beside the bed. My sex aches, the aftereffects of the spell turning my limbs to slurry as I try to shift on the chair. My God…it’s like my arms are about two hundred pounds each.
Darkwood is in a chair on the far side of the room, fingers tented against the arm of it, his wet cock hanging between his legs. “Easy now, my pet. The spell has been lifted, but the effects will linger for some while. Of course, having ascended, you are free to go whenever you wish."
I don’t like the phrase ‘ascended,’ and go? I can barely gather the energy to sit up, much less leave this chair. My limbs are weak and rubbery, my mind hazy from exhaustion and conflicting emotions.
He stands and approaches the chair, looking down at me. I’m utterly exposed under his verdant eyes, as if he can see straight into my soul. "You were exquisite tonight, little lamb. So beautifully helpless and receptive to my every desire."
He kneels, his fingers closing around my jaw and squeezing. Pain flares in the bone there, but my heart flutters at his cruel touch.
“Do you feel that? I fucked your pretty little mouth too. Can you taste me, in the back of your throat, my seed filling your belly, your cunt?”
I do.
Red heat rises up my cheeks at his praise. I want to tell him to leave me be, to stop gazing at me so intently, but the words won't come.
He reaches out to track a finger down my cheek. "You enjoyed it, didn't you? Submitting so fully to me. Exploring the depths of your passion. How did the shadows like that? You feel them, don’t you?”
I jerk away from his touch, anger and embarrassment a heady mix. This is going too far.
He laughs. “Ah, is that what you think?”
My lips move, but the words that come from them are ill-formed, infantile. “Let me go.”
Damien Darkwood has unlocked something dark and primal inside me, and I fear there is no going back.
Shadows dance across the stone walls. My body aches in places I didn't know could ache, sharply sensitized from the Professor's relentless attention. It’s going to take me days to recover from this.
With trembling fingers, I touch the tender flesh between my legs. It's swollen and slick, evidence of how thoroughly he claimed me. I squeeze my eyes shut, a sob catching in my throat.
If Sabrina saw me now, she would be so ashamed.
Or turned on, I consider darkly.
I should hate him for treating me like this. I should despise him for bringing me to the brink of madness and back again. But I don't. I crave his touch, his possession, the intensity only he can ignite inside me.
The memory of his cock stretching me open, filling me so completely I thought I might shatter, sends a pulse of heat through my core. I dig my nails into my palms to distract myself as arousal and confusion swirl inside me.
None of this makes sense. I've always been in control of my desires, able to satisfy my curiosity within reason—feeble as my attempts may have been. But Damien has shattered my restraint, exposing a part of me I never knew existed. A part that craves submission and ecstasy in equal measure.
He extends his hands. “You’re no prisoner, my pet. As I said, you’re free to leave.”
I stand but falter, trying again with a little more success even though my legs are like licorice strips.
I manage to stumble a few steps, collecting my coat from the floor. It requires a great deal of effort to put it on.
“What about Mortis?” I ask, my voice still weak.
The Professor nods. “In good time, my pet. For now, you need to rest.”
He stands before me unmoved and wearing a look of such neutrality I want to pound my fists against him in frustration.
He steps aside and I pass, that war within my head refusing to abate as I leave his chambers. I don’t think it’s going to stop. I don’t think my brain will accept the fact that my body needs Damien Darkwood. Because this is a fact now. Something I can’t deny or ignore. My whole existence is seeking out his attention.
For better or worse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Wait…”
His baritone echoes across the empty hallway when I’m just three paces from his chambers. There’s no light around me other than the beams coming from a flickering sconce to the right. I turn around to face him. There he is in all his naked, inky glory.
To my surprise, he enters the hallway, cock swinging with each step. Yes, it’s late, but that doesn’t mean much in Lumina. Someone could happen to pass by at any moment. In complete silence, he reaches forward and grabs my wrist.
My gut reaction is instant. I won’t be treated like this—even by him. But I keep this protest to myself for the same reasons I told him nothing when I left the privacy of his chambers.
He pulls me back inside, our gazes locked together in the low light of his chambers. Confusion finds its way into my brain as he leans forward and places his lips against mine.
This is different. There is no demand in his eyes. No possessiveness. No anger. Sorrow, regret maybe, but this is a kiss that comes from a lover, not the tormentor I have come to know.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his gaze darting down to my mouth before shooting back up to my eyes. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you to leave. It’s not what I want.”
“It isn’t?” I choke, my voice oddly childish. “What do you want then?” I ask, trying to drop my voice an octave, which only makes me sound confrontational.
A smile of bitterness forms on his face. “To spend time with you. Alone. Come,” he requests, maintaining a loose grip around my wrist as he directs me back into his chambers.
I’m still tense because this could be an act. There could be a fucking electric chair that’s materialized for all I know.
But there is a tenderness here I’ve never seen before, even if it was fleeting. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to think I somehow crave his vulnerability more than his cruelty.
We move left through his chambers and enter a lavish bathroom I don’t recall. Blue Turkish tiles line the walls, a porcelain vanity framed by an ornate mirror that extends across the entire wall. To the left is a large claw-foot bathtub, but it’s the shower to our right that he leads us towards. There’s no screen or glass—simply a showerhead extending from the roof.
It’s strange I’ve never been in here before, but Damien’s chambers seem to change daily, rooms swapped in and out and special nooks and crannies appearing and disappearing at will. If there’s a spell for this, to shift and change entire rooms, I need it.
There’s a whole shelf of candles next to the shower area. Damien reaches for the faucet and turns. Hot water gushes from the showerhead above, threads of steam begin to rise up in the air from the floor.
I stand there in amazement. Sure, dim illumination is mysterious and hot and all, but greater light is sinfully sexy. I can see every ridge of those abs, make out every intricate detail of his tattoos. Every defined muscle along his arms, his broad chest, and shoulders. His body, scarred as it is, is a work of art.
“What are you waiting for?” His question interrupts my daydreaming.
I smile in embarrassment and shrug off my coat, joining him under the stream of water.
After what I’ve just been through, it’s fucking bliss.
The Professor leans right to a separate shelf, returning with a purple vial in hand. He tips it, similarly violet liquid spilling onto his hand.
“Come.”
He spins me around, his big hands rubbing the liquid over my hips in circles, working over my thighs and up my back. I sigh, keeping my eyes shut as the scent of lavender and almond start to lace the air.
The liquid lathers as Damien works it over my entire body, his chest bumping into my upper back.
He speaks as he works. “Your skin is so smooth, my pet, so delicate,” he praises.
“Thank you.”
“I confess I might have gotten carried away tonight.” His palms glide up my back. “Every step of the process is crucial, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy them equally.”
“You sure seemed like you were enjoying yourself. Is it my suffering that turns you on?”
A low murmur. “Suffering is essential, my pet. In life. Here. There is no joy to be found without suffering as its foil. They are intertwined, as is pleasure and pain, and that, that nexus, is what is required for ascension, to reach the heights of magical possibility.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
His hand stops for a moment. “Yes,” he confesses, “but you enjoyed it too, didn’t you, being powerless?”
I’m glad he can’t see the wickedness in my smile. “A little,” I admit.
He raises his arm up and gathers my hair together. Moving it out of his way, he kisses the back of my neck, lips lingering where my shoulder blades meet.
“So fine,” he groans, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of my neck. I tilt my head back, chills moving up and down my spine. He reaches for the vial again before focusing on the front of my body. His hands land on my belly and move in a clockwise motion, leaving circles of foam over my skin. “You must be quite tender.”
I’m not sure he’s ever acknowledged my pain in this way before. “I am,” I tell him. “But I’ll heal.”
“Would you like me to stop?”
“No,” I say, quite determined. “You have no idea how good this feels.”
“It can get better,” he implies, his right hand sliding down my crotch. His fingers reach my inner thigh. They stop and move over to my sex before coming to an abrupt halt. “But not tonight.”
Normally, this would result in disappointment, but I’m enjoying this intimacy. I spin back around to face him, reaching for the vial. “My turn,” I tell him.
He watches me as I pour out the liquid, returning the vial to its position on the shelf. I rub my hands together and admire his large, muscular frame. I place my hands over his stomach and keep them parallel to each other as I work the liquid to a lather. “I never thought I’d find this at Lumina.”
“What is that, my pet?” he whispers.
“Myself.”
Part of me regrets this confession but fuck it. We’re sharing, aren’t we?
“What did you expect to find?” he asks, his peaceful expression encouraging me to continue.
“More of what I had back home, I guess. That cold indifference, hostility, and don’t get me wrong, I see it here, but with you…in our sessions…I see something greater. I’ve found parts of myself here I never believed were possible, that I could be capable of…” I lose my train of thought.
“Mmm,” he murmurs. He snakes his arms around my lower back, this simple move immobilizing me. I’m left with my own arms crossed over his stomach. “You have embraced what most would dare not explore or acknowledge. You saw it with your friend, how dark desires can run, but by drawing to them, welcoming them, they become not a weakness, but a strength—a strength you will need for what is to come.
“And what is that?”
“War.”
He cups the skin of my lower back and lets his hands roam downward. A gentle squeeze of my ass cheeks later, I am exhaling softly over his chest. The tip of my tongue licks my lower lip. I savor the sensation, his strong embrace intensifying this wonderful feeling of safety.
He turns and shuts off the faucet, the last of the water trailing down his body. He walks past me to a stack of rolled-up towels, passing one to me and using the other to dry himself off.
Equally dry, I follow him back out into his chambers.
