Kane’s POV
I opened my eyes and froze. There she was—Elena, on her knees, not with those cold, dark pools of emotion I had expected, but with eyes that were unmistakably hers. Her mouth was full of . The sight was both a cruel confirmation and a heartbreaking betrayal.
"Fuck, Elena—I’m sorry," I managed to choke out, my voice raw with guilt. But she didn’t seem to hear . One of her hands was busy fingering herself, while the other gripped , keeping deep in her warmth as her mouth worked relentlessly.
In that mont, every ounce of remorse, every bit of self-loathing, washed over . I felt as if I were dissolving—my own desire, my own darkness, colliding with the desperate hunger in her eyes. I wanted to reach out, to pull her away from this madness, but I was trapped in the bittersweet tornt of what I’d beco and what I’d done.
I could see it all now: the guilt gnawing at , the knowledge that I’d lost her to this insatiable, uncontrolled hunger. And yet, here she was—lost in the ecstasy of a mont that should have belonged to us, but belonged to sothing far more dangerous.
Every thrust, every gasp from her, drove ho the truth: I had failed her. And as she continued, her actions leaving both filled and empty at the sa ti, I knew there was no turning back. I was drowning in my own regret, trapped in a cycle of desire and loss that threatened to consu us both.
I lost myself completely in the mont—my need, my burning desire eclipsing every thought of restraint. I held Elena’s head firmly in my hands, the soft pressure of her skin against my palms fueling my hunger. I didn’t care about the world outside as I plunged my mouth down, taking her lips, her tongue, and every taste of her. I drove deep, plugging my mouth as if I had to reclaim every last bit of her from the void that had kept us apart.
"Fuck, I missed you so fucking much," I growled against her skin. Every thrust that followed was brutal and relentless, a desperate attempt to fill the emptiness I felt inside. My lips road over hers, capturing her moans as if they were the only sound that mattered. I fucked her mouth with a raw intensity that made my own desire surge, feeling her respond with every pulse, every shudder.
For a while, I let our passion speak in a language older than words—my thrusts, each one heavier and more ferocious than the last, driving to the edge. The sensation was almost overwhelming: the way her mouth clung to , the softness of her tongue, the way her own hands fought to pull back in. Yet even as I lost myself, I couldn’t ignore the animalistic need to claim every inch of her.
I pulled back and raised her up against , letting my lips trail a line of searing kisses down her neck, over the sensitive curve of her collarbone. My hands glided over her curves, mapping the contours of her body—exploring her breasts, pinching her hardened nipples until she moaned louder, her sound echoing in the dim light of the room. Every touch was both tender and rough, the contrast igniting a fire that neither of us could resist.
Then my hands slid lower, leaving her soft, quivering breasts to revel in the lingering heat of our contact as I let them roam over her supple, round ass. I squeezed and massaged, drawing out a series of low, rhythmic moans that urged on. I could feel the warmth pooling there, her juices already trickling down as if her body were trying to make up for all the lost ti.
I searched for her wet center with my fingertips, and the mont I found it, I pressed them inside her—slowly at first, testing the bounds of her desire, then with growing urgency. Every ti she called my na in a mix of pain and pleasure, it stoked the fire inside until I was lost in the raw need to possess her completely.
I continued, each thrust of my fingers deliberate, relentless, as I drove into her with a desperate ferocity that bordered on cruelty. My body moved in tandem with hers, a chaotic dance of lust and raw power, her every moan a testant to the depths of our mutual need. In that fevered haze, I felt as though I was drowning in desire, her scent and taste filling every corner of my mind.
Ti lost all aning. I was consud by the need to fill her, to reclaim her in the only way I knew how. I carried her to the bed laying her top part on bed as i stood in between her legs.
I lifted one of Elena’s legs, hooking it over my arm while my other hand gripped her waist, holding her steady. Her body trembled against mine, heat rolling off her in waves, her eyes locked onto with sothing primal, sothing that made my wolf stir with a mix of hunger and regret.
Slowly, I pushed inside her, filling her inch by inch, stretching her tight, slick warmth around until I was buried to the hilt. Her breath hitched, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I paused for a mont, savoring the way she clenched around , the way her body called to mine like she was made for .
Then, I pulled back—almost all the way—before slamming back in, her body jerking beneath as I set a relentless pace. Hard. Deep. Each stroke sent shockwaves through us both, her gasps turning into sharp cries, the bed beneath us creaking as I drove into her without rcy.
I wasn’t gentle. I couldn’t be.
Not when she felt like this. Not when I could still sense the darkness coiling inside her, feeding off our pleasure. My jaw clenched as I fought the conflicting emotions raging inside —desire, guilt, rage.
She was mine. And yet, she wasn’t.
But right now, with her legs wrapped around , her body arching to et my every thrust, I let myself drown in the mont. Let myself claim her the only way I could, even as a part of feared I was only making it worse.
My rough kisses and brutal thrusts beca the only language we shared. I could feel her tightening around , her resistance crumbling beneath the overwhelming tide of our passion, yet there was always that nagging emptiness—a darkness that neither of us could quite satisfy.
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