Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 275 - Two Hundred And Seventy Four

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision. Their mouths met with a force that bruised. They kissed each other as if they were struggling for who would drink the water of life first, desperate and thirsty. Tongues tangled, teeth clashed, breath mingled in hot, frantic gasps. She tasted his desire.

Marissa put her hands into his hair, gripping the thick, dark strands, pulling his head closer, deepening the kiss until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. She wanted to consume him.

Derek groaned into her mouth, a sound of pure relief. His hands moved from her back to her shoulders. He found the thin straps of her nightgown.

He pulled them down.

The delicate silk gave way with a soft tearing sound. The gown fell to her waist, pooling around her hips, leaving her upper body bare to the cool air and his hot, ravenous gaze.

They broke the kiss, gasping for air, their foreheads resting against each other.

Derek looked at her. He looked at her breasts, heaving with exertion, pale and perfect in the morning light.

He didn’t wait. He claimed them.

He buried his face in her chest, his mouth latching onto her breast, sucking and biting with a roughness that made Marissa cry out in shock and pleasure. His hands kneaded her flesh, marking her, owning her.

They were both aggressive with each other. There was no room for gentleness now. They had been separated by death and war and lies for too long. They needed to feel everything. They needed to feel the reality of the flesh.

Marissa reached down. Her hands fumbled with the fastening of his trousers. Her fingers were shaking, her coordination lost in the haze of lust.

"Hurry," she whispered, her voice a ragged plea. "Derek, hurry."

Derek helped her, his hands covering hers, shoving his trousers down his hips, freeing himself. He was fully hard, thick and pulsing with need, springing free from the confinement.

Marissa didn’t wait for him to position her. She didn’t wait for him to lay her down. She was the one in control now.

She lifted her hips. She reached down and guided him.

She sat on his hardness.

"Oh, god," Derek groaned, his head falling back against the headboard, his eyes rolling back, his neck exposing the cords of his muscles.

She sank down. Inch by inch. Stretching. Filling.

She took him all the way, until they were completely joined, until there was no space left between them.

Marissa let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. It felt right. It felt perfect. The emptiness was gone.

She began to move.

She rode him. She rocked her hips, finding the rhythm that made them both gasp. She ground against him, friction building the heat between them. She did it the way he rode his black mare—with confidence, with ownership, with an instinctual knowledge of the beast beneath her.

But hers was different. It wasn’t about conquering. It was about connection.

She leaned forward, pressing her chest against his, her skin slick with sweat. She kept her weight off his chest to protect the wound, bracing her hands on his shoulders, her hair falling around them like a curtain.

"Derek," she moaned into his neck. "More. Harder."

Derek gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, bruising her soft skin. He couldn’t thrust up too hard because of his injury, but he met her movements with powerful, driving squeezes of his hips.

"You are mine," he growled, biting her shoulder, leaving a mark. "Mine. All mine."

They moved together, a tangle of limbs and sweat and noise. The bed creaked rhythmically. Their breath came in short, sharp pants.

Marissa climbed higher. She felt the pressure building in her belly, a tight coil winding tighter and tighter. She looked down at him.

He looked even more handsome when he was in need. His face was twisted in a mixture of pain and pleasure. She could see it in his eyes that he needed her more than he needed air.

His own thoughts were cut short by her ministrations. Her voice was sweet like nectar, broken and needy. Her sweat glistened on her collarbone. Her hair clung to her face. She looked like wild, untamed, and entirely his.

Marissa cried out. Her body tensed, arching back. Her inner muscles clamped down on him, milking him.

She climaxed. It was a wave of pure, white-hot pleasure that shattered her control. She shuddered, crying out his name over and over, riding the waves of sensation.

After a while, she stopped. She collapsed forward, falling gently onto his chest, careful of his bandages. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, catching her breath. Her heart hammered against his.

Derek lay there, his chest heaving. He was still hard. He was throbbing inside her. But he hadn’t finished.

He whined.

"But..." Derek whispered, his voice sounding wrecked. "But I haven’t even released yet."

He looked at her as she raised her head to look at him. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, satisfied.

She just smiled. But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t move. She rested on her arms which rested on his chest, her body still encompassing him, but motionless.

Derek knew what was happening. He felt the trap.

"Are you punishing me?" Derek asked, his voice tight. "For my fake death?"

Marissa nodded slowly. Her smile was wicked.

"Yes," she whispered. "You hurt me sooo much."

Derek groaned. "You are indeed really cruel. I thought you forgave me, Mari."

Marissa reached out. She brushed the stray hair from his face, her touch tender despite her torture.

Derek looked at her. The playfulness vanished. He felt the weight of his mistake.

"What do you want me to do so that you will forgive me wholeheartedly," he spoke, his voice serious. "I told you before that I never intended to..."

She kissed him. It was a soft gentle kiss that silenced him. " I only need your love, your loyalty, your devotion and your body." She whispered into the kiss. Then, she broke it as quickly as it came.

Derek blinked.

Marissa smirked. "But I’m exhausted." She said, her voice low. " You will have to finish it up yourself."

A growl rumbled in his chest.

He forgot about the stitches. He forgot about the pain. He pounced on her.

He moved with a speed that belied his injuries. He flipped her over, pinning her to the mattress.

"I will finish it up my love" he promised, his voice rough. " You have no idea how long I have wanted to swim and drown in your sea."

He kissed her, hard and deep, and began to move, proving to her, and to himself, just how much he wanted her.