Eleven Nights to Ruin Me

Nina’s yelp broke from her as she felt him press against her entrance, her fingers digging into his back.

"Wait—" she moved away from him, her heart thudding hard in her chest.

Rodrigo raised his head to look at her. His eyes were darker than she had ever seen them, his hands cradling the sides of her face, breath unsteady.

"I’ll be careful," he murmured, and took her mouth again before she could say another word.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and she pulled.

She felt everything — the brush of his breath along her cheek, the heat of his chest against hers, the nervous pull low in her stomach. His mouth moved to her jaw, her throat, the curve of her shoulder

His lips found the hollow of her collarbone and he exhaled a shaky breath, sending a shiver through her that had nothing to do with cold.

His hands traced the line of her waist, down to the the curve of her hip, slow and deliberate — pausing at each place as though he intended to return. Every place he touched left warmth behind it. She had never been so aware of her own skin. Aware of where he was, and where he wasn’t, and the distance between his mouth and the next place it would land.

His lips returned to hers, deeper this time, and she stopped trying to hold herself together.

She felt the full weight of him settle in between her legs.

Then she felt him again press against her again.

Before she could react, he entered her.

Nina screamed against his mouth, her nails driving into his back.

He stopped immediately. His lips left her lips, and brushed against her forehead, he stayed for a moment, and then he kissed her temple. Trailing kisses down to the corner of her mouth.

When he reached her neck, he stopped there, breathing hard.

Nina stayed still as she adjusted against him, her eyes fluttering open. She could feel the tension running through his entire body — coiled, barely contained. His fingers had driven into the side of the mattress, knuckles pale.

He was shaking with the effort of staying still.

She looked at him. His face was pale, jaw tight, eyes black.

Her hands slid back into his hair, and she pulled him towards her, and kissed him.

That was all it took.

The restraint broke. Rodrigo kissed her back like the contact was the only thing keeping him alive, a groan vibrated in his throat as his mouth moved over hers with an insatiable hunger, not pausing, not waiting.

Nina couldn’t keep up, a whimper left her throat as she let him take her.

His hands moved along her sides — gripping, releasing, gripping again. She felt him breathe against her mouth, and she pressed closer, a shudder moving through him at the action.

Then, he began to move.

Slow. Deliberate. Each move slow enough that she felt every inch of it — the stretch, the unfamiliarity, her body adjusting around him one breath at a time. Her fingers curled into his shoulders. Her own breath came out uneven and she felt his jaw tighten against her temple in response, felt him pull back just enough, give her just enough room.

Then his mouth left hers.

A growl tore low from his throat and his hand moved her head to the side, baring her neck, and Nina had barely a moment before his teeth sank in.

She screamed.

The pain hit first — sharp and startling, blooming bright beneath her skin, radiating outward from the point of his bite. Her fingers drove hard into his back, nails first. Her vision went white at the edges. The cry that left her throat didn’t sound like her own voice.

Then the warmth hit.

It poured from the bite outward like something had cracked open beneath her skin, deep and flooding and dizzying, moving through her chest and down her arms and all the way to her fingertips. Her heart lurched violently. Then steadied. And then — faintly, beneath the wild hammering of her own pulse — she felt it.

A second heartbeat.

Rodrigo groaned against her neck, the sound wrecked and low, muffled against her skin. His arms tightened around her, his forehead pressing hard to the bite, his breath coming in shaking pulls like the contact was the only thing holding him together.

Nina clung to him.

Her nails pressed into his back and sensation rolled through her in waves, each one catching her before she could surface from the last. The bite at her neck throbbed — slow, sparking — sending heat down her spine every time he moved, and he was moving now. The careful restraint from before was gone, replaced by something rawer and more instinctive, but his hands still shifted when she tensed. Still slowed when her breath changed. She felt it every time — the awareness of her beneath all of it, never leaving him even now.

His mouth found hers and swallowed the sounds she couldn’t contain.

She stopped trying to contain them.

Her hands moved up his back and pulled him closer and he made a sound against her mouth that she felt in her sternum. The bite throbbed again and she turned her face into his jaw, breathing hard, her fingers tracing the line of his spine. She felt him shudder.

His hand found hers against the mattress without looking. Fingers threading through hers and gripping tight.

She gripped back.

He moved again and pleasure tore through her clean and sudden and her breath left her completely. She moved with him — without deciding to, without thinking — her whole body answering something his was asking. The dim light blurred at the edges of her vision. The faint sound of rain against the window. His breath rough against her ear.

He kissed her temple. The curve of her jaw. Soft, in the middle of all of it, like he still had room for that.

Her fingers slid into his hair.

She pulled his mouth back down to hers and kissed him and held on and didn’t think about morning, didn’t think about what waited beyond this room, didn’t think about anything at all.

There was only this.

Only him.

Only the warmth still spreading from his mark like a second pulse learning to keep time with hers, and the sound of his breathing against her skin, and her hands holding him close in the dark.