Chapter 58 — Three Days of Heat, 5 (R18+)
Warning: This chapter contains explicit adult content. If you're 17 or younger, please skip ahead.
The third day started with a soft, golden glow sneaking through the thick velvet curtains, turning the messy sheets into a warm blanket of light. Virelle stretched out slowly, her body aching in the best way from two full days of wild, nonstop lovemaking. Every muscle felt loose and tender, like she'd run a marathon in the most delicious storm. But when she opened her eyes, there he was—Sylan's deep crimson gaze locked on her, burning with that fierce hunger that always made her heart skip and her skin tingle. His fingers drew lazy, owning circles on her hip, each touch like a spark jumping across her already raw nerves.
'Gods, she's a vision,' Sylan thought, his mind foggy with want. 'Even half-asleep, she undoes me.'
"You're already awake," Virelle whispered, her voice thick and rough from sleep and the echoes of yesterday's moans.
Sylan's mouth twisted into a sly, dark smile that promised trouble. "Couldn't stay under," he said, his hand drifting higher to cradle her breast, his thumb grazing her nipple until it tightened into a stiff little bud under his calloused skin. "Not with you sprawled out like this, tempting me."
The sheets had twisted and fallen away sometime in the night, leaving her bare from the dip of her waist to the soft swell of her hips. Virelle caught her lower lip between her teeth as his fingers kept wandering—down the flat plane of her belly, then lower still, slipping between her thighs. She was slick already, her body waking up faster than her brain, heat pooling low and insistent at his touch.
In a smooth roll, Sylan shifted over her, his thick, hard length pressing hot against her thigh like a brand. "Last day of this," he murmured right against her mouth, his breath ragged with raw need. "Gonna make every second burn."
Before she could tease him back, his lips slammed into hers, all fire and claim, his tongue sweeping in to dance and tangle with hers. Virelle arched up hard against him, her nails scraping down his broad shoulders as his fingers teased her folds, circling her entrance before pushing inside with a slow, deliberate slide. She gasped sharp into the kiss, her whole body quivering like a bowstring pulled too tight.
He didn't drag it out. With a deep, animal growl that vibrated through his chest, Sylan lined himself up and drove home in one strong thrust. Virelle's cry ripped free, her back bowing off the bed as he stretched her full, the sweet burn mixing with the ache from days before until it was pure, blinding bliss. She was so sensitive now, every inch of him felt like it was remaking her from the inside out.
Sylan started slow, each thrust measured and deep, like he was worshiping the way her warmth gripped him tight. His hands roamed greedy over her—clutching her hips to pull her closer, palming her breasts heavy in his grip, pinching and rolling her nipples until they throbbed. Virelle hooked her legs around his waist, urging him deeper with every grind of her hips, her heels digging into his back.
"You feel like heaven," he groaned, his lips dragging hot down the column of her neck, nipping at her pulse. "Like your body was carved just to fit mine, to take me like this."
The rhythm picked up, faster and harder, the old bed frame groaning in protest under the slap of skin on skin. Virelle's breaths shattered into quick, desperate pants, her core winding tighter and tighter until it hurt so good she could barely think. Sylan's mouth sealed over hers again, muffling her wild cries as she shattered, her walls fluttering and squeezing him in hot, pulsing waves. He chased right after, a rough groan tearing from his throat as he buried deep and spilled inside her, his body shuddering against hers.
They collapsed in a sweaty, breathless heap, limbs twisted together like vines. Virelle's fingers wandered lazy over his chest, feeling the strong, steady thump of his heart under her palm. The morning sun caught the sheen of sweat on their skin, making every ridge of muscle on him gleam, every soft curve of her glow.
Sylan pushed up on one elbow, those crimson eyes of his still smoldering, dark and endless. He looked down at her like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing. "Not even close to done," he said low, his fingers already ghosting down her side, tracing the dip of her waist.
A shiver raced through Virelle as he found her clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles that made her hips twitch up on their own. "Yeah, I can tell," she breathed out, voice shaky, her body lighting up like dry tinder.
With a grin that was all predator, he flipped them over so she was on top, straddling his hips. His big hands clamped on her waist, guiding her down slow onto his cock until she gasped at the stretch. The angle was new, wicked—hitting spots inside her that sparked fireworks behind her eyes. She whimpered, low and needy, as she settled full around him.
Sylan's hands climbed to her breasts, squeezing gentle but firm, thumbs flicking her nipples until she squirmed. "Ride me, love," he urged, voice gravel-rough. "Just like that—fuck, you're a goddess."
Virelle braced her palms on his chest, the solid wall of him warm under her hands, and found her pace—rolling her hips in a slow grind that dragged him deep. The friction was perfect, every shift sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. Sylan's fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass, lifting and pulling her harder, faster, his own hips bucking up to meet her.
She could feel it building again, that tight coil low in her belly, her body clenching greedy around him. Sylan's breaths turned jagged, his control fraying as his own edge crept closer. When she broke, it was loud and messy—a sharp cry that echoed off the walls as she pulsed around him, waves crashing hot and endless. He lost it right behind her, a deep groan rumbling out as his hands yanked her down flush, filling her again with his heat.
They tumbled into each other, panting and spent, the sun now higher and brighter, gilding their slick skin in gold. Sylan nuzzled a kiss into her shoulder, then caught her lips soft and slow. "Still hungry for you," he murmured, hands wandering restless over her ribs, her thighs.
Virelle let out a breathless laugh, even as her pulse kicked up at his touch. "I figured."
This round, he eased her onto her stomach, tugging her hips up until she was on her knees, ass high and exposed. The air felt cool against her heated skin, but then he was there—pressing hot and insistent from behind. He sank in deep with one claiming push, and Virelle's cry muffled into the pillow, her fingers twisting in the sheets.
"Gods, so tight from this way," Sylan growled, his grip bruising on her hips as he started moving—long, powerful strokes that rocked her forward. One hand slid around front, fingers finding her clit and rubbing firm circles that made stars burst in her vision.
She shattered quick and hard, a sob breaking free as her body locked down on him, milking every drop. Sylan followed with a curse, thrusting deep as he came, holding her pinned against him until they both went limp.
By afternoon, they hadn't left the bed at all—the sheets a total wreck, damp and twisted like a battlefield. Sylan tugged Virelle back into his lap, her spine flush to his chest, his arms banding around her like he couldn't bear an inch of space. His cock, impossibly hard again, nudged insistent against the curve of her ass.
"Again?" she murmured, but she was already melting back into him, her thighs parting on instinct.
"Every damn time," he rumbled in her ear, nipping the lobe as his fingers dipped low to tease her clit. Then he was sliding into her from behind, thick and slow, stretching her with that perfect ache.
The thrusts were lazy-deep, each one dragging a whimper from her throat, her head lolling back on his shoulder. His free hand roamed up to cup her breast, thumb circling the peak in time with his hips. The double assault—his cock filling her, his fingers relentless—pushed her over fast. She came with a sharp cry, clenching tight around him, and he groaned low, spilling hot inside her as he crushed her close.
As the sun dipped low, painting the room in fiery oranges and pinks, they moved together in a gentler rhythm, bodies synced like they'd been made from the same mold. Sylan's hands mapped her every curve, fingers lingering on the dip of her spine, the swell of her hips, like he was committing it all to memory.
"You're mine," he breathed against her mouth, thrusts steady and profound, eyes locked on hers.
"Always," Virelle whispered back, her fingertips sketching the sharp lines of his jaw, the faint scars on his cheek.
Their world narrowed to this—them, the creak of the bed, the wet slide of skin, the shared gasps that filled the air thick as honey. Outside didn't exist; duties, wars, all that noise faded to nothing.
Sylan flipped them sudden, pinning her under his weight, taking the lead with urgent snaps of his hips. Virelle's legs locked around him, nails raking red trails down his back as the pleasure coiled sharp and fierce inside her.
"Come for me," he demanded, voice scraped raw with lust, forehead pressed to hers.
She obeyed, breaking apart with a wail, her body rippling around him in bliss. Sylan tumbled after, burying deep with a shattered groan, his face tucked into her neck as he pulsed hot and endless inside her.
They stayed locked like that, breaths syncing slow as the room cooled into twilight. Moonlight spilled silver through the windows now, the only glow left. Sylan kissed her brow, then her mouth, tender but edged with that fire. "One more," he murmured, voice quiet steel. "Need you one last time."
Virelle's smile was soft, her body already humming alive under his hands. "Always."
He took her gentle this go, every thrust a slow savor, like he was etching her into his soul. Lips brushed her collarbone, her throat, hands cradling her like fragile glass even as he drove deep. They peaked together, a quiet storm—bodies fused tight, breaths weaving one, riding the high in silent, shattering unity.
In the quiet after, Virelle's fingers doodled absent swirls on his chest. "What happens after tomorrow?" she asked, voice small against the dark.
Sylan kissed her temple, arm tightening around her. "We make it work," he said, sure as stone. "No matter what."
She believed him. Because right then, still joined, hearts hammering the same beat, she knew they'd carve out their path. The three days had blazed like wildfire, fierce and all-consuming, but tomorrow's glow would be the steady coals that warmed them forever.
For now, though, the night lingered. And Sylan's hands were already stirring over her skin, touch whispering promises of more bliss, more bind, more of that heady fire that had forged them these three days.
And Virelle knew she'd give it all. Because he was hers, bone-deep, just as she was his. And nothing—not time, not duty, not the world outside—would ever change that.