Purposely arching back, I ground against Graysen. He groaned, low and raw, as black lashes squeezed shut and his cock flexed and dug into my lower back.

"You're a bastard." But the words came out breathlessly.

"Tell me something I don't know," he gritted out, the square-tipped fingers biting into my ribs. Hard enough I'd bruise. And it felt so good I wanted those fingerprints to stain my flesh.

I taunted him with a roll of my hips. "Your heart is going to shatter when you put me up on the auction block at the Witches Ball."

His jaw clenched as if he were bracing himself. A moment later his eyes snapped open. A storm of emotion tumbled within their inky abyss, so swift and tangled together I couldn't read them. His voice was low and gruff and pained. "I have no heart, remember?"

I tipped my chin up. "Neither do I."

It was easier lying to each other in the mirror, our reflections marred by steam.

My chest swelled and fell with shallow breaths. A carnal knowledge my body knew only too well had blistering heat razing outward from my aching core, and my hips were desperate to move in an ancient rhythm of desire and need. Our height difference was too much for what I hungered for. I braced my palms against the slippery vanity top and I raised myself up higher by climbing onto the flat and wide handles of the vanity's bottom drawer to balance on my toes.

Confusion clouded his expression.

The skirt of my oversized dress was bunched between my fingers as I slowly drew it upward in gracefully draping folds, up, up, up, so the scalloped trim of my panties were exposed.

"Holy shit..." I heard him mutter under his breath. "Fuck."

My stance allowed me to push my ass back, wiggle, and angle his cock through the apex of my parted thighs. We both let out a low curse at the delicious feel of him spearing along my sex, hidden behind arousal-damp fabric.

"Fuck..." he hissed, then groaned once more. "What are you doing?"

Taking what I wanted. Using him.

Surely it was fucking obvious? I wiggled, bearing down on his cock, and the gruff grunt he made was so dirty hot and embarrassingly loud, that I had to bite my lip to stop myself from both laughing and replying with my own indecent moan.

Oh my gods...

So fucking good.

He pressed a flattened hand against my spine to gently urge me downward. But I resisted, fighting back because he wanted it too much. A moment later, I surrendered and allowed him to position me lower. The front of my dress gaped low. My breasts were barely contained by the bra and were tantalizingly on display, yet he was captivated by my spine. He ran a single fingertip along the ripple of bone. "This, your fight—that's what I love most."

He moved slowly with a sensual roll of his hips as he thrust all the way through. The friction of his thick shaft stroking against cotton threads and hitting every single nerve ending as he glided against folds slick with arousal had me gasping. And suffering for not being able to have all of him all the way inside me the way I truly wanted.

He palmed and kneaded my ass as he stroked. I dropped my heavy head, disappearing into a white-hazed world of pleasure, and stared between us where we were connected. Lust raced through my veins as I watched the tip of his cock appear and then vanish in tandem with his powerful body moving behind me.

I could reach between my legs and touch him. Squeeze my fist around the head of his cock. Run my fingertips along the iron ridge. Reach back further and cup him.

Tipping my head back, I glanced low-lidded at the mirror and realized where his reflected gaze was staring. Tension and desperation entered the smooth planes of his body. His unnerving gaze was fixed on my parted lips as I panted softly.

He wanted me to touch his cock. My mouth preferably. For my lips to press a sweet chaste kiss to its glistening crown. For my tongue to swipe the slit and lick along the veined underside.

But I think what he hungered for most was for me to kiss him.

A callous sweep of my hand to gain more room had all my skin products toppling and rolling off the vanity, falling with a smattering of thumps to the rough stone floor. I registered the moment broke for him by the swift worried glance. It bothered him that my bottles and tubs were scattered on the floor.

I huffed a laugh and swiveled my hips, my thighs tightening around his rock-hard erection to bring him back. His eyes shut, the long lashes grazing his upper cheeks on a deeply tortured groan of pleasure. That luscious mouth fell open and his striking features strained. Wet locks of hair fell across his forehead as he bowed forward, his body folding over mine. Consuming me.

He levered back, only slightly to trace his lips along the back of my neck before his nose nudged my throat to the side and he nipped and kissed my flushed sweat-slick skin. "I want you, little bird, so fucking bad." A hand roamed my body as we mimicked sex, dry fucking one another. It ran along my sides, feathering down my arm to thread his fingers through mine. Our bodies were perfectly aligned—puzzle pieces completing one another.

"I want to fuck you properly," he confessed, and the words and sonorous vibration against the shell of my ear were a hot wet lick against my clit. It ached and throbbed, yearning for his cock, his fingers, his mouth. When he sucked on my earlobe my eyes rolled back on a stuttered gasp and exquisite torture of the best kind barreled through me. I almost came. Suddenly his weight lifted from my back. My messy bun was clutched between his fingers, accompanied by a dull sting of pain as my head was arched back and angled toward him. I met fiery, lust-addled eyes. "Kiss me," he growled almost angrily.

My laughter had a wicked bite to it because he was so fucking desperate.

"So cruel, little bird," he groaned, nipping at my ear.

I yanked myself free and he straightened, hauling me with him so I was upright and held against his chest. Calloused hands smoothed upward over my torso and swept over the swell of my breasts, his thumbs sweeping across my hard nipples, back and forth, teasing me.

Oh my gods yes, yes, yes...

His hips surged forward and back, retreating like a wave on the shore, dragging me along with him like tumbling stones as we both began to crest fast, our hitched gasps, soft moans, and panting breaths twining together within the small room.

Stop. We had to stop before my mind was dashed into obliteration with the impending orgasm.

I yanked myself free and clumsily shoved an elbow backward, shunting him away, before twisting around fully. He was beautifully confused as he stumbled back a step, righting his stance and looking utterly lost as he blinked rapidly, tilting his head in question.

I levered myself to sit my ass on the vanity, beads of moisture soaking through my panties. Now, unlike late this afternoon on the landing where I explored his face, there was no t-shirt concealing his figure.

A deadly body. Honed and sharply cut. Golden flesh glistened in the low bathroom lighting with a light dusting of dark hair on his lower abs. Lines of fiery wyrmfire coiled downward, skimming the finely cut vee, leading me straight to his cock.

He stepped between my parted thighs just as I reached for him, cupping my fingers around the sides of his strong jaw. Prickly stubble rasped against my sensitive flesh. I dragged my mouth along his in a ghost of a kiss. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes," he hissed with flames shining in a dark gaze, his expression both guarded and open.

His lips parted, fingers splaying around my waist.

I arched an eyebrow, a smile tugging on my mouth. "Who says I want to kiss you there?"

The slack-jawed startlement was gratifying.

Long messy locks dipped as I tilted my head, considering him with a sly look before I leaned forward to press my lips against the firm curve of a pectoral, smiling at the flex of muscles as they contracted at the contact, the skin awash with goosebumps. I brushed an open-mouthed kiss sideways. A deep groan rumbled from his throat, a tremor against my mouth, as a shudder rippled through his entire body. His nipples, like mine, were razor sharp. I licked the tip to taste him and tease him. And draw a desperate moan from him, have his fingers tighten on my waist.

Then, cruelly, I dragged my fingernails down his chest, sharp enough to leave red lines with crimson beading the edges.

He flinched. "Fuck." But it wasn't barked in anger.

I glanced upward, and though his features were hardened at my reckless act, unease and uncertainty gleamed brightly in his eyes, chased quickly by excitement. He liked it. The fear. Pleasure and pain blending together. He was a little fucked up, but then I suppose I was too, wanting him back.

His fingers gently threaded through the curls, petting my hair. His voice held a serrated edge, the admission slicing through me. "I've endured enough pain throughout the years, little bird, to have mastered it. To like it. To want to bite back."

I stiffened.

My mind snagged on—throughout the years?

Had there been more than the whipping?

He'd looked away and downward. It was a fleeting glance and some dark feeling surfaced. It seemed to me that it had been triggered by a memory that sucked him away as his gaze momentarily grew glassy, before sharpening.

I chanced a swift glance to where his gaze had skimmed: his wrist.

For the first time, I realized that both of his wrists were covered with thin leather and silver chains. Not a completely uncommon thing. I'd seen them decorating the wrists of actors on a few television shows I'd watched. But what was unusual was that those I'd seen who adorned themselves in the same manner, had a few leather straps, but both of Graysen's wrists were covered from the wrist joint upward, spanning several inches worth. None of his skin could be seen beneath the thick layer of black and silver.

I'd never thought much about it before.

Until now.

My fearful thoughts split apart when his fingers cupped my chin and his thumb brushed over my lower lip. "But I sure as fuck am not going to let that gorgeous mouth near my—"

I snapped my teeth. Then burst into laughter as he jerked back as a gleam of warning flared within his gaze.

My grin was broad. "You wish." I was going to give a taste of what he was desperate for and then deny him.

Pulling back, I tangled my hands around his neck. He still looked like he didn't trust me. That I might gnash my fangs at him at any time. And yet, he still gave in to me when I drew him down. His lips inched closer, eyes gone midnight black. "I'm going to bring your House to its knees," I whispered honestly.

"I know," Graysen replied, spoken just as honestly, but strangely laced with reverence.

Our breath mingled as I leaned in, him too. Our first touch was tentative. Our mouths flitted over each other's, fluttering over the indented bows, feathering over each other's lips. "You'll burn it to the ground," he continued, the words brushing my mouth with heat. "Delight in my charcoaled bod—"

Want washed across my tongue as heady as a drug. I closed my lips over his and swallowed down his words. He was right. The Keep and every single Crowther were going to float on a smoky breeze, reduced to cinder and ash with my wrath.

The first taste of him had my soul sighing. And without meaning to I molded my body into his, wanting to crawl inside him. He tasted sinfully wicked. Of depravity. Longing and lust.

His mouth nudged mine to open up to him. When his tongue licked in, he half groaned half growled, the desperate sound so filthy and needy, my entire body burst to life, igniting like fire tossed into bone-dry kindling. His kiss reverberated through every single inch of my body, from the tips of my fingers to the ends of my toes to the wild curls of my messy bun. He invaded my entire being and took possession of my senses.

Sensuality was a blustering, blazing inferno that licked and bit and sucked.

The rapturous beat of our twin-hearts drummed in my ears and I forgot myself, willingly fell into the flames of Graysen Crowther, and let myself burn.

His hands were everywhere. Everywhere he touched, he left behind a scorching imprint on my skin. I pawed at him as wildly as he did me. As if both of us were fighting to wholly consume the other. His lips demanded obedience as he wrung pleasure from me with every caress of his tongue. Every sharp nip at my soft bottom lip. Sucking on the fluttering pulse point in my throat. I moaned, gasped, then sighed replete when his mouth reclaimed mine. An eerie otherworldly strain whispered inside my mind with a melodic cadence, urging me to take what I wanted. Claim what belonged to me and only me.

Both of us were made for only the other.

My bones were his.

His blood was mine.

"More," It wasn't me who moaned it. "More, little bird, more."

I tugged roughly on his hair to angle him where I wanted because it was a lesson he had to learn. I wound my legs around his narrow hips and purposely pushed my core against him, never letting him break free from the kiss.

His breathing hitched. Spine bowed in reflex, shifting his hips instinctively forward. He loosened a string of curses as he throbbed and swelled even harder, angry and desperate for what it couldn't have. When I sucked on his tongue, his hips bucked and he groaned deeply inside my mouth. "Fuck...fuuuck..." His voice was roughened with desperation, as was his grip on my ass. "Let me taste you... Suck and flick your pretty swollen clit. Lick my tongue into your wet heat... Let me get you off."

The movement of his fingertips brushing against the hangman's noose around my neck woke me up. It was an accidental touch but enough to remind me of what I had to do.

I blinked, wide-eyed and dazed. Horrified at how easily I'd fallen.

Too far, I'd gone too far.

I pushed him with the flat of my palm. A hard shove against his chest.

He swayed off balance and staggered back a step.

Dropping to the ground, I quickly edged around, taking a few steps backward, running a hand across my forehead, and drawing in a deep breath to clear my muddled head.

He stared back, both of us trying to catch our breaths, shifting his weight while trying to gauge what was going on. Why I'd stopped.

Crossing my arms and gathering a handful of damp fabric, I pulled the dress off, tossing it over my shoulder to fall to the pebbled flooring in a tumble of white.

Bracing my hands on my hips, I stood in front of him in only my underthings.

Pure cotton. Simple. Not fancy and certainly not cut in a way to be sexual. Yet I could have been standing there in lace or satin or simply naked with the way he stared. He looked hungry, like a wolf staring at its prey.