His hand slid slowly along the curve of her thigh, his touch a brand against the cool fabric of her gown. It lifted with an almost imperceptible tremor, settling against his hip, a declaration of intent that stole the air from her lungs.
His kiss deepened, a desperate claiming of her mouth that left her reeling. Then, with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified her, his lips left hers to trace a searing path down the column of her neck.
Each press of his mouth was a claim, a silent promise written on her skin, a burning map of his desire. The exquisite torture of his touch sent shivers through her, starting at her fingertips and racing down to the tips of her toes.
Camilla could do nothing but surrender to the escalating sensations as he touched her, explored her.
A breathless, shuddering moan escaped her lips, a sound she hardly recognized as her own, a raw expression of a need she hadn't known she possessed.
He pulled her closer, one hand anchoring her shoulder with a firm grip that was both reassuring and commanding. His mouth found the peak of her breast, the exquisite pressure of him sucking it was deliberate, heated—a sharp, intoxicating contrast to the cold stone pressing unyielding against her back.
The sensation was a jolt, a sharp intake of breath that was almost a sob.
Every movement was a revelation, a cascade of sensation that left her breathless, her mind a thrilling blank.
All she could do was press her head back against the cold, unforgiving stone wall, eyes squeezed shut, surrendering to the rhythm he set, the primal dance that consumed her. The rough texture of the stone was a grounding anchor in the swirling storm of pleasure.
Yet, beneath the intoxicating haze of pleasure, a cold tendril of shame flickered like a dying flame in the deepest corners of her mind. It was a persistent ember, refusing to be extinguished by the fire he ignited.
How could she let her fiancé's brother do this?
The thought was a cold splash of water against the heat of his touch, a stark reminder of the forbidden nature of their entanglement. It was a question that screamed for an answer she couldn't give. But the question that followed was even more damning, whispered in the dark, hidden corners of her mind:
How could she let him go so deep—not just into her body, but into the guarded, untouched parts of her soul?
It was a violation she craved, a boundary she was desperate to cross, and the realization was more terrifying than any touch. The sheer intensity of his exploration, both physical and emotional, left her adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions, a dangerous current pulling her under.
The force of his exploration, both physical and emotional, left her adrift in a tumultuous sea of conflicting emotions, a dangerous current that made her speechless.
Each touch, each kiss, chipped away at her defenses, revealing a raw vulnerability she had long kept buried.
"We'll be dead if he gets to know," Camilla whispered, the words a desperate plea, a fragile anchor to the reality she was trying to cling to.
The words made him look up, his dark eyes, usually so intense, now holding a dangerous glint of defiance. "I don't care what might happen," he murmured, the low timbre of his voice vibrating against her skin.
His focus, however, didn't waver from the intoxicating path he was carving. His lips moved lower, kissing the delicate skin of her stomach, each touch a branding iron, a promise of what was to come. His movements were slow, deliberate, a torturous exploration that left her trembling, his journey inexorably going lower, towards the very core of her being.
With a drunken grace that belied his intent, Tiberius immediately raised her up, his hand pressing hard on her ass, lifting her as if she weighed nothing.
He carried her the few steps to the bed, the black sheets a stark contrast against the muted light, a silent invitation to oblivion.
He lowered her onto them, her body opening and exposed, a willing offering. He knelt between her thighs, his lips finding her with a reverence that shattered her remaining composure.
"Ahhhh," she moaned, the sound a pure, unadulterated cry of pleasure that echoed in the stillness. His lips slowly, exquisitely traced their path upwards, a searing trail that brought her closer and closer to him, until at last, they met hers.
The kiss was immediate, ravenous, and Camilla responded with an urgency that surprised even herself. She immediately worked on his lower clothing, her fingers fumbling but determined, zipping it down faster as he deepened their kiss, their bodies already pressing together.
He paused for a fleeting second, his gaze locking with hers, a silent question hanging between them.
Then, with a shared understanding that transcended words, he helped her shed the last of his garments removing his clothing with a swiftness born of pure desire, his hand running along her waist, making her shift, her knees locking, parting wider in eager anticipation of whatever might come next.
"Ahhhhh," she gasped again, a smile of pure bliss curving her lips as he finally went in, slowly, deliberately. Their bodies, slick with sweat and anticipation, brushed together, a perfect, aching fit.
She would swear it wasn't as good as Tenebrarum's, a fleeting thought that vanished as quickly as it came.
Because this was different. This was more. Not just a clashing of bodies, but a profound connection.
She felt him with an intensity that transcended the physical; she felt his essence, his spirit, as if they were exchanging souls. It was a beautiful, terrifying merging.
His liquid ran into her, a final, profound joining that sealed their intimacy. All she could do was scream, a sound that wasn't just of pleasure, but of complete and utter surrender. It was a cry of ecstasy that teetered on the edge of pain, of a connection so profound it threatened to break her entirely, to splinter her into a thousand shards of pure sensation.
"Please, don't stop," she pleaded, her voice a ragged whisper against his ear. She pushed towards him, an instinctive movement, her body arching to follow his slow, deliberate dance. Her eyes, blurred with unshed tears of overwhelming emotion, tried their best to focus, locking onto his.
Each slow gasp that escaped her lips was a testament to the pleasure surging through her, a raw exhalation as she pushed forward, her hand tightening on the sheets beneath her, her blunt hair a dark halo of flowers scattered across the rumpled bed.
Each movement of him within her was like a dream come true, a whispered promise finally fulfilled. Tenebrarum had his style, yes – strong, compressing, and heavy – but this slow, deliberate movement was something else entirely. It was emotional, a soulful communion that resonated deep within her.
A soft, involuntary smile bloomed on her face, a testament to the profound peace and joy that washed over her.
Then, immediately.
Clack!
The sharp, decisive sound of a door being opened, echoing violently in the sudden silence. It was a harsh, metallic punctuation mark that made them both freeze, their movements recoiling as if struck.
"Oh, so great," a voice drawled, dripping with a mocking amusement that chilled Camilla to the bone. The words flew out before the person fully came into view, a cruel observation delivered with a sickeningly sweet tone, confirming their worst fears.
The sanctuary had been breached.
---------------------
To be continued...