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Sage was struggling for breath, hair wild, eyes shut tightly, the overwhelming weight of the betrayal crushing her.
“What can I do?” Trystan asked sincerely.
“I think… I think I need a hug…please,” she whispered.
He should have firmly rejected the request, rebuked her for the lack of professionalism, reminded her that he was The Villain and hugs were not in his job description — or hers, for that matter.
Instead, the earnest vulnerability in her voice pulled at something deep in his chest and he could not deny her. In one stride, he closed the distance between them, enveloping her in darkness. His right arm wrapped around her waist, while his left hand reached up to cradle the nape of her neck, fingers weaving into her silky tresses.
She seemed to tense in surprise for a fraction of a second, then brought up her arms, her slender fingers skimming along the fabric of his shirt and interlacing behind his neck. Stealing a shy glance up at him from beneath her lashes, she tentatively dipped her head and let it rest on his shoulder.
The sweet smell of vanilla engulfed him, her warmth softly spreading where their bodies came in contact. She seemed small in his arms, fragile, and he held her gingerly, as if afraid to break her, as if he could taint her soul just by being too close.
“Is this alright?” He asked hoarsely, inwardly smacking himself for the stupid question. But how could he be expected to function when Sage was in such dangerous proximity?
“Perfect,” she murmured with a small sigh of contentment that tickled the crook of his neck.
She relaxed in the embrace and her form pressed against his, soft and warm and terribly distracting.
Trying his best to be inconspicuous, Trystan took a deep breath and attempted to shift his focus on soothing her. His fingers lightly began combing the base of her scalp and caressing her velvety locks while his right hand drew slow circles on the small of her back.
In response, she hummed softly against his skin, sending vibrations through his very core. He could feel her heart beat against his chest, her breath raising goosebumps on his neck, her fingers lightly playing with his hair. He could swear that she was even closer now, her body entirely melded into his. He willed himself to keep his composure, reminding himself that he was just offering comfort and he should not be reading into her accelerated pulse, or her hitched breath, or — surely he was imagining the slight roll of her hips, right?
“Sage…” he called with difficulty, unsure how to continue the sentence. He tried to keep very still while the rational part of him struggled to maintain control over his impulses.
Alarm bells rang in his head at the unfathomable risk to which he was subjecting them both if his restraint were to falter. His fate had been written long ago, and he knew that its inevitable tragic end meant a life of solitude, as he could not, would not curse another to share his wretched destiny, least of all the angelic creature that had innocently stumbled into his life a few short months before and was now palpitating restlessly in his arms.
“Please, sir ,” she breathed against his ear, her lips briefly capturing his lobe, accompanied by the quickest flick of her tongue. Her voice was a low purr, with just enough emphasis on the last word to leave no doubts about her intentions.
His desire surged wildly, and he groaned in agony, digging one hand into the soft flesh of her waist while the other knotted in her hair, tilting her head back and exposing her neck, eliciting a soft gasp. His mouth followed the delicious curve, grazing her skin, ready to leave his mark on her as she moaned in anticipation, the sound so arousing that a jolt of pleasure shot through him. He was fighting a losing battle.
With enormous effort, he managed to pull back, hands still on her, face hidden in her locks.
“This is… a bad idea,” he said through strangled breaths, forcing his grasp to loosen ever so slightly. He wanted to elaborate further, to convince her of the awful consequences of entangling herself with him, The Villain, but all of his attention was focused on keeping from ravishing her then and there. “We shouldn’t… I can’t…” Words were failing him. He was acutely aware that this would complicate their confusing relationship more than any of the recent events already had, utterly shattering the carefully crafted distance he had tried to put between them, yet his thoughts were dissolving in her intoxicating scent, his decency lost in the maze her fingers were drawing on his skin.
“Don’t you desire me?” She asked coyly, the answer painfully obvious in his entire body.
Frustration drew from him a curse muttered under his breath. Her hands raked his back, pulling him closer, toying with his hair, her labored breathing a symphony in his ears. She arched her neck, as if offering him the sensitive skin where it met her shoulder.
His lips grazed the spot, uncertain, torn between instinct and reason. His grip loosened and clenched around her, pulsating in rhythm with his internal conflict.
A spark of lucidity afforded him one last try.
“Sage,” his voice shook with yearning, and he took a shuddering breath to steady himself. “Tell me to stop,” he pleaded. His entire being screamed for him to give into the pleasure, to ignore any foolish notion of tempting her, corrupting her, ruining her, but that mote of reason still fighting begged her to free him from the vices of lust, hers the only command he would respond to.
“No,” she replied, lips to his ear, her tone sultry and thick with unruly sensuality. It felt at once like a knife twisting in a wound and a promise of infinite bliss. “I don't want you to stop.” She punctuated the statement by dragging her loins against his in an unmistakable invitation, eliciting another groan from him, his grasp tightening around her flesh, his breath dancing erratically on her neck.
She pulled back ever so slightly, enough to look into his dark eyes. “I want this,” she declared, the fiery determination of her stare scorching like the sun. “I want you, Trystan.”
His name on her lips was enough to ignite him. This was not a misguided fantasy, a momentary lapse in judgement that she would regret as soon as the haze of her craving faded. It was real . He was an open book for her, she knew his darkest secrets, knew exactly where this would lead, and still she was choosing this path.
In an instant, he pulled her closer, bodies crashing into each other, and his mouth finally found hers. He reveled in the softness of her lips, opening at his touch and welcoming him in a deep, hungry kiss as their tongues chased each other among ragged breaths. Her hands tugged at his hair, his traveled along her back, gripping her waist, caressing the curve of her thighs.
A step forward, and he pushed her flush against a wall, pinning her hands above her head, his passion a fire that devoured any thought. One of her legs came up around him as he trailed wet kisses along her neck, making her gasp when he nibbled and sucked at the spot where it met her shoulder. He felt her knees give way under the onslaught on her senses and he grabbed the back of her thighs, hoisting her up on a nearby table, mouth never breaking contact with her skin.
Her hands tugged at his shirt and he quickly obliged her, immediately rewarded by her hands caressing his chest, his back, reaching up his arms to his shoulders and pulling him closer once more. She closed her lips around his earlobe, licking and biting, basking in his reaction as his hips ground into hers.
His fingers returned to her hair, pulling lightly and making her extend her neck. His tongue traced the curve from her clavicle to her ear and back again, before he stopped to suck at her pulse point until she felt aflame under his touch.
“Undress me,” she mewled breathlessly, and he wasted no time in removing her clothes. His fingers raced to unlace her corset, briefly leaving her in a sheer chemise before it, too, was quickly discarded.
Trystan pulled away for a moment to admire her. Evie glowed in the moonlight, skin bare and luminous, long curls cascading on her shoulders, more beautiful than he had ever dreamed. Her eyes captured his, shining brighter than the stars, burning with passion and twinkling with an emotion he dared not name.
His heart swelled, his hands rose to her cheeks, tilting her face, and he kissed her fervently. His mouth searched hers, insatiable, moving with feverish intensity, trying to taste all of her. No distance between them was small enough, he needed her close, closer, until they would blend into each other in an eternal ardent embrace. She responded with the same passion, lips blazing against his and hands tugging at his hair to pull him nearer. Her legs wrapped around his waist and their hips collided once more, sending a jolt through both of them.
His mouth trailed to her ear, briefly sucking on her lobe before proceeding down her neck with deep kisses sure to leave marks in the morning. He let his hands slide down to her shoulders and follow her graceful back, then return up her sides and gently cup her breasts, caressing her delicate skin.
Her moans intensified as his lips moved to her nipples, licking and sucking with abandonment. She pressed into him, back arching, and his mouth dove further, reaching her inner thigh and planting a wet kiss there before moving towards her center. He inhaled her inebriating scent, marveling at her beauty and his luck for a moment.
His tongue traced where her leg met her loins, raising goosebumps on her skin, then dipped between her folds, eliciting a thrilled gasp. His hands held her waist firmly as he licked and suckled her tender flesh, diving deeper into her and gradually focusing his attention on her pearl until her moans filled the room. His mouth never left her sweet spot while his right hand slid down her folds and a finger gently curled inside her, slowly exploring her and dragging along her upper wall. She leaned back on the table, granting him easier access, and he redoubled his efforts, swirling his tongue around her nub and adding a second finger, finding the bundle of nerves that would increase her pleasure to a new height.
Evie buckled under him, and Trystan gripped her tightly, increasing the tempo until he felt her clench and convulse around his fingers with a desperate cry. He continued suckling and caressing her, riding the waves of her climax as her fingers knotted into his hair and her body burned with pleasure.
When she finally collapsed backwards on the table, spent and struggling to catch her breath, he bent over her, his mouth slowly trailing up her torso, disseminating kisses near her hipbone, on her wrist, on her breasts, in the crook of her elbow, on her neck, enjoying the fluttering of her pulse, the sound of her sighs, the radiance of her afterglow.
Evie brought a hand to his cheek, thumb caressing his skin. Her eyes glittered, filled with emotion, and bore deep into his, silently communicating her astonished contentment and her profound adoration. His hands delicately cradled her face as their lips brushed against each other for a few unhurried seconds before joining in a slow and tender kiss. They parted, breaths mingling and foreheads touching, both reveling in their bliss, and, after a moment, leaned in to share another kiss.
Their lips met again and again, sweet gentleness becoming steadily more thirsty and impatient, until once again the waves of their excitement climbed high.
His hands traveled her body, hungrily holding her close, digging into her soft flesh. Her legs tightened around his hips, pulling him nearer, and her fingers reached for his pants, blindly trying to undo the fastening before he grabbed both her hands with one of his and pinned them above her head once more, swiftly removing the clothes with the other and returning it to her waist.
Excruciatingly slowly, Trystan ground his hips into her, making her buckle and moan. He held her firmly, kissing and biting her neck, and teased her nub moving in small circles, eliciting a series of strangled breaths and gasps. He fought the urge to dive into her, wishing to prolong the moment for both of them, knowing that gradually increasing the pressure would make their eventual release all the more intense. As his mouth closed on her nipple, he deliberately slid between her folds without entering, his tip grazing her pearl with every oscillation and becoming slicker and slicker with her arousal.
Evie quivered beneath him, struggling to find purchase, panting, throbbing.
“More… please,” she managed to beg between gasps, and Trystan could no longer quell his lust.
His lips captured hers in a fiery kiss as he entered her, feeling her arch underneath him at the sensation of being filled. She clamped around him, as if drawing him in, heightening his arousal even further. He moved inside her, slowly and deliberately, angling their hips to reach her most sensitive spots.
As his rhythm increased and his strokes became more vigorous, he felt her breath quicken, become erratic, turn into louder and louder moans. She felt rapturously incandescent to the touch, ready to explode and ignite the universe, and for an instant Trystan wished death would strike him then, for nothing could ever compare to that perfect moment.
Yet seconds later her walls pulsed around him as she orgasmed, his name a prayer on her lips, her body shaking with the strength of the sensation, triggering his climax, and he was overcome with a passion more ardent and euphoric than he could have ever imagined. He kissed her deeply, his arms cinched around her, pulling her closer, and he released into her, prompting another wave of pleasure for Evie, who buckled and gripped him tightly until their thrills subsided.
They collapsed on the table, tangled together, blissfully spent. Trystan’s hands moved lazily on Evie’s skin, softly caressing her, while her fingers gently combed his hair as they listened to each other’s breaths and heartbeat gradually slow down.
In all his life, Trystan had never known that such serene joy was possible. Certainly since becoming The Villain, any prospect of contentment or even tranquility had vanished: he had been condemned to a life of battle, besieged and haunted, and he had accepted his fate knowing the sacrifices it entailed. He had forsaken his wishes, yet Evie’s unrelenting trust and touching kindness had brought color into his life again, wondrously managing to restore his hope in the future.
He loved her.
Trystan leaned in to kiss her again, for he would never tire of the sensation, of the sparks she sent through him. Evie awakened under his touch, smiling sweetly against his lips before pressing her mouth against his with tender devotion, opening it a moment later as he licked her lower lip. His tongue found hers and explored her mouth, treading his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer, enjoying her warmth and responsiveness. A sigh of contentment escaped her, and their kiss deepened, the note of urgency quickly turning into pressing need. Their bodies shifted, hands searching, flesh kindling, loins colliding.
Once more, they set the night ablaze with desire.