03-20-2018, 07:34 PM
Solace doesn’t give him release. She doesn’t let the space between them last for more than a heartbeat before she is pressing against him. Her body heat melts with his own. For a long moment, Castile’s eyes shut to savor the delectable contact that he has wanted for months – years? – and he yearns for it to last so much longer. With an unfamiliar tenderness, he traces the soft arch her neck down to her chest.
(She’s addictive)
(Mine)
The intimacy is alluring and he is fighting the primal urge to pull her into his embrace, to force her against his side as she tempts him with her honeyed words.
”Solace,” the taste of her name is a drug that tantalizingly drips from his tongue, half in lust, half in warning. ”I need to stay in control,” he murmurs into her neck before slowly tracing his mouth up to the curve of her jaw, then her cheek. ”I cannot hold it back. I cannot protect you.” There is something primitive in the way his alter ego works, how it functions and hunts. It would make her its own – whether as prey or a prisoner – and he cannot picture how it would darken her pretty face. Castile doesn’t want to be the reason of her mistrust or her fear, but she is luring the dark foreboding.
She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.
He breathes her in again, slowly. The heat of their touch is overwhelming and it’s clouding his thoughts. When he blinks, slit pupils are staring at her.
He blinks again and they’re normal.
”You would be afraid,” his voice has dropped to barely a whisper, ”You wouldn’t want me near you.”
(She’s addictive)
(Mine)
The intimacy is alluring and he is fighting the primal urge to pull her into his embrace, to force her against his side as she tempts him with her honeyed words.
”Solace,” the taste of her name is a drug that tantalizingly drips from his tongue, half in lust, half in warning. ”I need to stay in control,” he murmurs into her neck before slowly tracing his mouth up to the curve of her jaw, then her cheek. ”I cannot hold it back. I cannot protect you.” There is something primitive in the way his alter ego works, how it functions and hunts. It would make her its own – whether as prey or a prisoner – and he cannot picture how it would darken her pretty face. Castile doesn’t want to be the reason of her mistrust or her fear, but she is luring the dark foreboding.
She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.
He breathes her in again, slowly. The heat of their touch is overwhelming and it’s clouding his thoughts. When he blinks, slit pupils are staring at her.
He blinks again and they’re normal.
”You would be afraid,” his voice has dropped to barely a whisper, ”You wouldn’t want me near you.”