Charlotte Featherstone - Lust

“The way in which the moon plays over your skin beckons me to explore. To touch. To taste.”

His fingertips lingered lightly over her pulse and she heard him growl, the sound of a jungle cat purring in satisfaction. His mouth lowered then stilled, and a cry, not of the jungle cat but that of savage beast, emanated from deep in his throat.

“There can be very great pleasure to be found in darkness. You needn’t fear it. But only embrace it.”

Closing her eyes, Chastity tilted her head back, savoring the heat coming from his mouth as it washed over her décolletage. She burned, breathless, waiting for something she could not name.

She didn’t understand, only knew that this feeling must not leave. She wanted it to consume her. Wanted to fall victim to him. She was not this person, this wanton. She was a virtue, but it seemed her virtue had abandoned her, leaving her as she truly was, a woman yearning to be seduced.

“Yes, yield to me. Let me come to you as I am. Embrace the darkness, the darkness in me, and let me take you … corrupt you …”

Breathing hard against Chastity’s milk-white throat, Thane endured the pain that pierced him. He was forcing her. It was forbidden. It would only deepen the curse, but by the goddess, he wanted her, wanted to take her without any thought or control and sink himself into her luscious body.

She whimpered, not out of fear, but of feminine arousal, and he decided that perhaps he could still make her want him. He couldn’t hide his little growl of victory as he brushed his lips along the full, throbbing vein that ran from her neck to the apex of her breast. Parting his lips, he breathed hotly against her. The mist that was part of him began to float over her, whispering softly, covering her until the little beads of moisture turned to a glistening rivulet of water that trickled between the valley of her generous breasts.

She squirmed in his arms, but it was not an attempt to be free of him. No, she wanted him, like a woman wanted a man. He could smell her arousal, the scent of passion wafting up from beneath her gown. He could smell the rich, heady nectar of her blood through her skin, which was sweetly anointed with the perfume of orange blossoms. Perfume as an aphrodisiac was a poor second, and no match for the power of a woman’s blood, heated by lust. But Chastity’s innocence mixed with her heavy perfume was as intoxicating as a pint of faery mead.

Staring down at the woman he held in his arms, Thane watched the rise and fall of her breasts. A perverse sense of need, inspired by his sin, made him desire to see his seed trickling between her luscious breasts. He wanted her marked, covered in his scent. Thane wanted her for his.

Wanting to taste her. Needing to rip away the contraption that caged her body from him, he lowered his head, inhaling her musky scent. Thane listened to the erotic cadence of her heart that beat urgently beneath her breast. He wanted to feel that rhythmic pulsing around his cock while he was buried deeply inside her, her virginal quim clamping and throbbing, surrounding his shaft, milking him dry.

He would stay there, just like that, savoring the feel of her body accepting him. He would raise himself above her, blotting out everything but him. She would see only him, above her. Feel only him, deep inside her. And then, when she was focused solely on him, their gazes locked, he would take her. Body and soul. Virtue to his sin.

Their nights would be spent in pleasure. In slow, languorous lovemaking, and frenzied fucking, in which he would feel her sweating against him. She would beg him to stop—only to plead with him to take her once more.

She was still as death in his arms, and he looked up from her overflowing bodice and into her eyes. Was she afraid? Terrified? Did she know what he wanted to do to her? Could she see into his mind, and watch his fantasy of her beneath him, her bottom in his hands, her hips arching to meet his thrust? Did she know how badly he wanted to watch her body open to him? How he wanted to take her to his court and mate with her as a Dark Fey should?

By the goddess, did she know what sort of monster he was? He was Lust. He fucked like an animal. He was insatiable. She could never, in her innocence, understand what he wanted to do to her, or have her do to him.

He should leave her, this innocent little lamb, yet she represented what he so desperately wanted. Something of his own. Not a possession or a thing. But his. His opposing virtue. The woman who was opposite to him in every way. The woman who could help free his court of its curse. The woman who might very well free him.

But the sin inside him was raging beneath his skin. His sin wanted to defile her. To take her now, while her large eyes were wide with wonder, and with her body smelling of desire. Lust wanted to fuck her. Thane wanted to … He didn’t know. Yes, he wanted to taste her, to feel her hot body surrounding his cock, but he wanted something else. Her to desire him. Him, the prince. The Dark Fey. He did not want her under Lust’s hypnotic guise.

“Chastity,” he whispered before brushing his mouth along the swell of her breast, tasting mist and the scent of woman on her flesh as he moved his mouth along her. “Let me taste you.”

She blinked up at him with her wide eyes and he saw the desire to be desired shining in them. Lowering his mouth to hers, he felt a jolt of excitement rush through his veins. Her lips were soft, pliant beneath his. He pressed another soft kiss to them, and this time he opened his mouth, allowing his heat to envelope her.

Hungrily he pressed up against her, encouraging her to part her lips for him, but she wouldn’t, or did not know how to allow him the intimacy. In growing frustration, he cupped her chin with both hands, slipping his tongue effortlessly between her lips. Boldly their tongues touched, stroking each other with increasing fierceness.

She was clutching him to her breasts and he could hear as well as feel her heart steadily beat faster and faster with each stroke of his tongue.

He was suddenly consumed with the need to see her and opened his eyes. Hers were closed, long lashes fluttering against pale, porcelain cheeks. Her fingers were in his hair, tangling and gripping as she purred and moaned and brushed her curved body against the length of his.

Lips parting, he fastened onto the supple flesh of her throat, began to suck, and she crumpled deeper into his arms, unable to stand. He sucked and laved, kissed, then blew hot, moist air over her wet flesh. His tongue and lips explored her throat until he was met with the lace barrier of her bodice, and then, he tore at the buttons, thrusting the bodice wide open until her décolletage was once more bared and he was scraping the tips of his teeth along her skin that was now warm and flushed pink.

The scent of her passion-infused blood was so strong it overtook all his senses. He could no longer hear, could no longer see because of the lust that was blinding him. He could only smell, and the scent only grew stronger until his own body was shrouded with her arousal.

Pushing her breasts up against his mouth, he alternated between kisses and licks, searching for the elusive nipple he knew he would find budded and erect beneath her stays. As he pulled her breasts free of the corset, she fell to her knees before him. When she looked up at him, he saw the ecstasy in her lovely eyes.

Lust like he had never known assailed him and he felt the animal within begin to stir again. He was no longer able to hide his glamour, and Chastity was now fully ensnared by the beauty of the fey. He didn’t want to entrance her or trap her. He wanted her to want him of her own free will. But her lush body and innocent mouth made him powerless against his sin. The fey with honor, with good intentions, was unable to sway Lust to give up his hold on Chastity Lennox.