Blackwell’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter at her murderous expression as he pulled away, dropping her skirts and standing. He recaptured her mouth in a heated kiss before she could pelt him with the million curse words on the tip of her tongue. Winding his arms around her waist, he transported them away.
When they blinked into her bedroom, it took her a moment to shake off the disorienting feeling of being transported. But Blackwell didn’t miss a beat. He stripped away his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, and she was once again taken aback by his beauty.
“God,” she whispered as she flattened her hands against the six distinct muscles of his abdomen, tracing a fingertip over the perfectly cut “V” of his hip bones. “You’re so beautiful. It’s quite irritating.”
“I know,” he said wryly.
She rolled her eyes, but before she could knock him back down a peg, he swiftly bent to lift her up by the backs of her thighs, hooking her legs tight around his waist. She greedily pressed her lips back to his and let him kiss her until her head was swimming from the lack of oxygen. He walked them over to the bed and gently laid her all the way back against the plush comforter. She unwrapped her legs from his waist, letting her knees fall open as he snapped to remove the dress from her body, leaving her utterly bare before him.
The expression on his face as he stood there, peering down at her, was one of sincere awe.
“You’re…”—he rubbed a hand over his mouth in wonder—“stunning. Angelic.”
She snorted but resisted the urge to cover her blushing face with her hands. She had only let her last lover see her briefly, between the sheets. With Blackwell, he’d made it clear there was nothing she felt like she needed to hide. He’d seen some of the worst parts of her already, and by the end of this, she was sure he’d see it all. The woman. The Necromancer. The monster.
“Come here,” she whispered, reaching out for him.
He undid the belt of his pants with a single hand and tossed it aside before lifting a knee onto the bed, placing it between her legs. He planted a kiss on her belly, just above her navel, before licking and nipping his way up to her breasts. He gently clamped his lips down over one of her pert nipples and her back arched off the mattress as the fire inside of her reignited.
She tugged his head up by his hair and brought his lips back to hers. She gripped his sides and slowly rolled their bodies over until she was lying on top. Pushing herself up, palms flat against his chest, she maneuvered herself until she was straddling his upper thighs.
She smiled. “It’s my turn to taste.”
Scenes from the second trial flashing through her mind. Of lovers feasting on each other in ways she had never before imagined. And she wanted to try it for herself.
There was something deep inside of her that was still unsure how much further she was going to make it in this competition. Especially after that last level. There was another part of her that knew this would likely be the one and only time she could allow herself to be close to him like this. Which meant she was going to take the opportunity to do every single thing she wanted to do before it was gone forever.
Reaching between their bodies, she unbuttoned his pants before lifting herself up just enough for him to kick them off to the floor. She looked down.
Holy. Shit.
The impressive length was considerably more than she had realized the previous night when she had ground herself to a climax against him. Part of her worried that what she was about to try wouldn’t work. She reached out, tentative, and wrapped her fist around his shaft—her hand too small to encircle it fully—then gave the hard length a single stroke.
His hips bucked.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I take back what I said about you being angelic.”
She cleared her throat. “Is it okay if I—”
“You can do anything you want, angel,” he inserted, voice gruff. “I’d let you drag me to the depths of Hell right now if that would please you.”
“This is a version of you I can work with,” she quipped as she gave him another stroke.
“Fuck,” he hissed again.
She braced her unoccupied hand on his stomach to steady herself as she leaned down and gave the tip of his cock a tentative lick.
“Ophelia.”
She had always adored the way he spoke her name. Like a wicked prayer.
She gave another lick, and his hand flew to the back of her head, wrapping itself in the tendrils of her hair, almost involuntarily, as she slowly lowered her mouth down the first few inches of his shaft. It took a moment to get used to the feeling, but soon enough she found a rhythm between her mouth and hand, adjusting her speed and pressure to his responses. It wasn’t long before she could feel the muscles in his stomach clenching tighter and tighter, and when she was sure she had brought him just as close to the edge as he had brought her in the hallway—she stopped.
A sensual curse fell from his lips.
She lifted her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and grinned down at him. “Payback.”
“You’re a fiend,” he told her, voice thick with lust and affection.
In a blink, he transported them both into a new position, pressing her back into the pillows at the head of the bed, his body hovering over hers. He reached a hand between their bodies, moving it down to her core to rub circles against her clit with the pad of his thumb, kissing her until she could hardly remember her own name or the fact that she was required to breathe in order to live. He was her new sustenance.
There was nothing slow or lazy about his attentions now as he worked her back into a writhing, moaning mess. She could feel herself soaking the plush comforter beneath them, drenching his fingers with her wetness as he slid two of them inside her. He curled his fingers in a beckoning motion, hitting a spot that made her clamp her teeth into his bare shoulder to keep from screaming with pleasure. A guttural moan tore from his throat at her bite, and he used his free hand to tilt her face back to his, kissing her with the hunger of a man starving. He added a third finger inside of her, and she moaned as he pumped them in and out, so slow it was almost agonizing. And just as she wondered if he was going to wait for her to beg—determined to prove that what she’d said about never begging him for anything were, in fact, famous last words—he removed his fingers and placed the tip of his cock at her entrance.
He broke their kiss and pulled back just enough to read her face in the dark. “Tell me you want this.”
“I want this,” she swore, breathless. “Very much.”
He sighed in relief and rocked his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of her, all the way to the hilt. The way he stretched her was sinful, euphoric. He was so deep she swore she could feel him in her soul. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as he pulled out, slowly, before rocking forward in another languid movement. She twisted her fists into the comforter at her sides as she rode out each wave of pleasure.
She didn’t know it could be like this—Hell, if only she had. She wouldn’t have wasted time with anything less. And now she understood why some people sold their souls to experience even a fraction of this feeling.
The feeling that she’d never be able to get enough, that she needed more or she might explode, overwhelmed her. Every thrust of his hips and she saw the stars. So clear in her mind, she had forgotten how much she missed them these past few nights until now.
“Blackwell,” she whimpered, her body beginning to tighten beneath his. “More. More. More.”
“You can have everything, angel.” He leaned his forehead down against hers as he pumped into her, harder, faster, driving them both wild with each stroke. She moaned as she lifted her hips off the bed and met his next thrust with her own. Sweat beaded at her temples as she finally unraveled. Completely undone.
When she began to float back down to earth, he flipped their position in one fluid motion, fixing her to straddle him once again. She leaned forward to balance her weight against his chest. His cock had slipped halfway out when they moved and yet she somehow felt it was even deeper than before. Biting her lip, she slowly slid herself all the way down onto his shaft, taking him completely despite the more intense angle, whimpering when their bodies became flush together.
Blackwell reached up to gather her hair out of her face, pushing her long curls over her shoulders so he could see her fully. She couldn’t help blushing as she met his gaze and slowly rolled her hips forward before grinding them back down again. Over and over again she moved up and down his cock, his hands coming up to grip her waist and guide her into a smooth, steady rhythm. Teaching her how to ride him perfectly.
This time, when she began climbing back to that place of ecstasy, she could tell he was climbing with her. Rocking all the way forward, until only the tip of him remained inside her, she slammed herself back down a second later, eliciting a noise from him that wasn’t entirely human.
“You’re such a good fucking girl,” he growled as she shifted forward again, moving one of his hands between their bodies to rub his thumb over her clit. “Come for me again, angel.”
“Blackwell,” she whimpered as his thumb rubbed faster and faster between her legs, sending every nerve in her body into a lust-filled frenzy.
“Fuck me,” he told her. “Harder, angel.”
She ground atop him even harder, until the sound of them joining together over and over thundered through the room.
And then an actual clap of thunder echoed around them.
Ophelia’s movements slowed as the two of them gaped up at the ceiling and the curse that left Blackwell’s mouth now was not said in euphoria. Because above them, crimson rainclouds began to manifest, a foreboding, swirling tempest. When the first drop of blood rained down, splattering onto Blackwell’s chest, Ophelia smeared her finger through the bright red droplet in disbelief.
“I forgot about this haunt,” he said, seething, more blood pitter-pattering over their skin. “If you let me up, I can take care of it.”
The rain turned into a drizzle, the warm splashes of scarlet dying his hair pink, sliding down the bridge of her nose, running over more sensitive areas…
Ophelia began moving against him again, and his brows shot up in utter shock.
He quickly recovered and a devious smile slowly curled up at the corners of his mouth at her boldness. “Are you sure?”
She shrugged and repeated his own words from earlier. “It’s only blood.”
He hummed in approval and twisted his hands into her damp hair, angling her face down just enough for him to meet her in a rapturous kiss. It didn’t take long for them to return to their previous pace, their blood-slicked skin making their bodies slide together in a way that was utterly sinful. The storm came down stronger and stronger with each passing second, building to a crescendo at the same time that they were building to their own, and this time, when she reached the edge, he crashed over it with her. Not even the thunder overhead could drown out the sound of his name being wrought from her lips.
When they both finally came down, he gently separated their bodies and rolled her over to lie back against the pillows before standing from the bed. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene around the room without the s*x-fueled haze in her mind. It looked as if a massacre had occurred.
“God,” she exclaimed at the sight.
Blackwell smirked. “I could get used to that name, I suppose.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Please. Your ego is big enough.”
He huffed a laugh as he turned to clear the carnage. By the time he was done, not a single splatter of red could be found in the room, or on her skin. When he began to dress, pulling his trousers on and fastening the button with a single hand, she pushed herself up onto her elbows to watch.
As evenly as she could, she asked, “You’re leaving?”
He glanced at her as he bent to swipe his shirt from where it had been haphazardly discarded on the floor. “Do you want me to stay?”
A beat.
She felt strangely more vulnerable in this moment than she had during their throes of passion, but she swallowed and whispered, “Yes.”
“Then, I’ll stay,” he avowed.
He left his shirt unbuttoned and returned to the bed by her side, tucking one of his arms back beneath his head and lifting the other so she could press herself into his side. As she laid her cheek against his chest, over the place where his heartbeat should’ve been, neither of them spoke another word.
Blackwell traced affectionate circles over her back and down her spine, and in no time, she drifted off to sleep. But not before something forbidden unwittingly began to take root inside of her. And soon enough she’d find that she wouldn’t be able to stop it from growing.
Fall in love within Phantasma at your own risk.
