It took little time when she allowed him to cross that boundary for their bodies to collide, and soon for her clothes to no longer served a purpose besides the boots that still adorned her feet. He didn't hesitate, not even for a fraction of a second. His dominance flared abruptly well-fed flame he had been nothing short of prepared for. Primal and threatening, in a near animalistic way that only added fuel to that chaotic fire.

His hardened body that pressed into her served much like a corded muscled cage, pleasurable and yet her dominant nature loathed to give an inch. Until that night. How it served to be a challenge for them both. Her intensity was enough to raze the entire forest. That warning growl always close to the surface as her cowboy attempted the impossible.

The moment she merely pressed a hand into his shoulder was enough to alert him to the shift, to change their positions to one she deemed more favourable. But her cowboy seemed to be a step ahead. He struck. His fangs tore into the pristine flesh of her offending wrist in burst of his own lost control. How rage surged through her body, like she was a nuclear bomb ready to explode. Her body thrummed with it as that hiss of her displeasure tore beyond her lips. The mercurial queen's mood altered to something deadly. How.. dare he. Of all the times for his composure to falter, it was near shocking that it was now. Yet as quickly that slipped control he reined in back in, like he controlled the switch. With Risque entirely focused on that slight and her lover's daring mismatched gaze that met her own in silent challenge. Not a single ounce of submission clung to him. How swiftly he slipped over those boundaries like they had been obliterated and yet she didn't back down, her own striking pale gaze bore back, the couple in a near silent but intense stare off. No one dared to hold her stare for that long and remained intact. It was that moment, in the time of a single inhale before the storm crashed down. Yet something within her lover shifted in the wake of his own newfound boldness. What shocked even her was the lack of immediate reprimand.. But something far more deadly. In the wake of that moment it seemed to speak to her own monster, that was all striking fury and perfect control.. And instead of coming down upon him like a guillotine blade at his neck, she watched him with interest. She soaked it in.. studying, learning him. Observing him as something new to learn, something new to break, something new devour.. Or better yet, something new to play with. Oh her dark lover was full of surprises. That tumultuous rage churned within her, outrage, heat... before his bold lips claimed her wrist as his own while he peered at her. That predatory gaze never once broke as he deliberately traced the wounds he made with his tongue, tasting her, devouring her from her weeping wound. It was like she was suddenly torn with a need to dominate this new side of him... while equally tempted to play with it.

That need vacillated before his tongue drew a wave of dark sensations that engaged within her entire body. How it pressed along those puntured edges, sweeping, exploring her torn flesh caused from his wicked bite. It was nothing short of daring and erotic. Her hand shot forward to his neck, brushing against that thick chain that spoke so clearly who he belonged to with the promise of punishment that he all but ignored. She was... entranced by the way he seemed lost to what he was determined to claim.

She felt his unabashed moan through her fingers that clamped around his own throat. He did not hide his own pleasure... nor did he stop the way his lips pressed ardently further down the slope of her arm.. Before allowing his fangs to rip into her again. Far more controlled than the savage beast that possessed him just moments before and yet.. this was somehow far more alluring. Her arm wept that blood with an eagerness, that sensation, instead of fueling her need to retaliation went right between her legs. It was like his body knew she craved that friction, his hip ground silencing anything that might have escaped her lips.

She was unsure the distinct moment when her limbs wrapped around him, but they seemed to tighten, as if urging him closer. How that violent rage seemed to settle into something else far more dangerous as his actions seemed to do more to turn her on. Hisses turned to moans of want and yet it was arguable of which mood was more dangerous. Even despite the restricting, cursed pants she could feel the undeniable hardness of him. Why were they still on him? Yet even despite the severely limiting sensation of what her body wanted, that grinding sensation of his hips accompanied by his distracting mouth that all but ravaged her arm... seemed to make her forget she cared for that clawing dominance. Instead, it emblazoned her with a need for more. He synchronized his assault with ease, a sordid blend of pain and pleasure with each intended bite. Her arm was a mess. Even despite the way her body tried to stitch it back together, he seemed content to rip her wide open again. Blood ended up everywhere, coating her, dripping onto the new leather and places where it shouldn't. Yet she seemed to like that sensation of that slickness that seemed nothing short of invasive.

Charged energy devoured her like anti-matter, it was near suffocating.

She found herself savouring that very question on her tongue that had grown parched with her own desire to wet her own thirst while her blood saturated the air around them... Yet she watched him with that hungered look as he feasted on her flesh, her lips parted. She seemed impatient as her hand slipped between them to easily free him from those pants. She was far from gentle in the way she raked the heels of her boot's heels down his outer thighs and drew his pants down as far as she could. The she-devil was rewarded with hiss from him against her mauled, bloodied arm, a wicked smile drew across her lips. Enough playing. She gripped his recently freed hardened length as if to take him hostage as if to declare she was in control.

The she-devil controlled that part of him as if she forged herself a new leash. Her hold tightened and that was all he needed to turn his gaze slowly to her as broken from his own reverie. His tongue licking her ruby liquid from his lips and yet it was still not enough to come close to seeing skin beneath. Did she finally have his full attention? Darcy looked unhinged, like he had simply been let out of his cage. How he tried to press into her, his intent clear and yet it was her own grip that prevented it. He seemed unpredictable... much like her. That wicked grin seemed to grow before her honied voice broke through the chaos. He was like her. How she recognized it. How she liked toying with his side of him.. How she was near surprised by her own striking need, along with his own strained growl of his own response. Words seemed foreign as though they had no place. Nor the words he uttered. She was she being nice? How she thought she was merely stating a fact, recognizing herself in him in that moment. She supposed... he was right. Her own smirk faltered a frown threatened to mar her features. Yet she refused to dwell before she rose seamlessly.... Talking was bad.. she decided. Kissing seemed like a far better use of his mouth. Their lips met and it was filled with intent and a unique predatory urgency. She hardly held back as her wicked fangs haphazardly sliced into him.. Anywhere they made contact with his flesh, her fangs snagged many times upon his lips and tongue. It was a hungry, refusing to be the only one who bled. Far more content with this, she almost seemed to forget about her 'hostage', that firm grip slipped as she moaned into mouth. That mere slip was all that was needed for Darcy to act. Both wrists were soon captured, placed entirely over her head prompting a warning lust-filled growl from her, her fangs flashed, with his blood mixed with hers still stained her mouth. How certain he would be bit without mercy if anything came close to that mouth of hers. Severe as the bruising grip that ensnared her wrists as he settled perfectly poised between her legs, she could feel him at her entrance before his voice drew her complete attention. Risque. He uttered as a command.

Her eyes wild met his own. They looked like a wild hurricane waged within the depths of her irises. Like never before. "What?" She snapped as she considered testing his grip. It was like she might spring forward for his throat, wrap her legs so tight that she might force him inside. Any movement she might have executed was distracted by her lover's provoking threat. Did he just threaten to...

Did her cowboy have a death wish he wanted settled tonight? She was only allowed that single look of surprise to flit across her face before he thrust his hips forward. In once single move he was sheathed inside on a single gasp that tore from her, overshadowed by his own unbidden groan of satisfaction. He didn't pause as if he was starved for that feeling of friction she had denied him and took it for himself. But she too was starving, one foot propped against the dash while the other wrapped firmly around him, using every bit of her meet him thrust for thrust. A moan tore free as she tilted her head back, exposing the expanse of her neck. He was everywhere. That flash of that perfect flesh within reach seemed to ensare him. He was there in an instant.. Risque growled in warning, her fangs flashed and yet anticipated his lips against hers.

She was reminded by this very fact as his weight, his driving force of his body, her inability to use her arms... She could have devoured him and it was like they shared the same thought, a twisted smile formed upon his bloodied lips. How she knew that look. Just as it seemed he wanted to kiss her, his mouth descended abruptly to bury and seal his fangs within her throat, just as he buried himself into her. It was if he couldn't get any closer as took and took... and took. It was like he claimed her and drank her in like he couldn't get enough. As if he sought to take... everything. Her cowboy acted like a drowning man, lost in her haven of a near indestructible body, capable of their pleasurable abuse. That sharp pain caused from that very bite as a French curse slipped like a moan from her lips. No Darcy didn't make love. He fucked with abandon, a ferverent zeal and how it spoke to every part of her, her whole body came alive, hungry for that assault she met. Her heel dug into him and it was nothing in comparison to what her hands wanted to do.

It was madness, barebones and relentless. She could feel him feasting on her in every way imagineable. As though she truly allowed him to claim her. It was like he emblazoned his name upon her narrow. Yet it surprised her that she enjoyed the feel of him inside of her in everyway...

But never once had she been claimed.. Been truly ripped wide open and feasted upon like she was the only meal he'd ever had. How her parted lips felt an urgency to wrap around something to sink her fangs into flesh..

She almost demanded he release her hands.. but she refused to ask. While distracted in his shameless feast, she ripped her hands free from his bruising shackles. She allowed him... control.. Not compliance. However, the movement costed her a blaze of discordant pain through her body that was nothing if not heightened to all the sensations of his perfect assault. Only she welcomed that pain. To master pain was absolute power after all.

Risque paid no heed to his warning. After all, she didn't get anywhere in this life by behaving. It would seem those requests were nothing but a thing all but forgotten. That feeble attempt to control that scenario was far too gone. Ah, she might have complimented him before for being like her.. But she had been her far longer. Her hands broke free with a sudden burst of strength she had kept at bay and yet she made it seem almost far too easy, a dark chuckle slid from her lush lips like liquid velvet.. In an instant, those hands found his back. Her nails were as merciful as his own fangs as she dug them into his perfect flesh. There was more than one way to make a man bleed. . She raked her claws into his back the nails breaking and she hardly cared, those nails dug a jagged trail, wanting him to feel it.

"Oh, Darcy." His name uttered in a fashion that was nearly as fatal and sinful as she. One hand met the back of his head, her fingers dug into the locks of his hair as though she planned to rip him away from her throat although she doesn't, all that was added was a firm pressure. It felt good to steal some of that control back. "You know better than to make threats you can't uphold." She pressed her bloodied lips to his ear, a perfect little seductive taunt, lowering her voice laced want. Turning her head made her neck throb with a delicious pain that caused her leg to tighten his teeth doing more damage as she moved, while he surged with forceful thrusts just as she wanted him to. She could feel all of him this way. Pain and pleasure became almost synonymous. It was a wonder she could even speak the words through the haze. Although, they might as well have been her version of sweet talk.

"Release your fangs from my neck or I will have to show you no mercy if I have to make you." Oh, there was a threat for him. One she intended to back up. Or did she? It was clear she taunted him, wanting him present... Was it to show him how it was truly done? A lesson, somewhere surely? One she might have but for once been far too lost to care if that threat was empty. Or better yet, was it a challenge? A dare... A test for that newfound dominance of his? Or perhaps redirect his focus on something that wouldn't drain her dry. She alludes to nothing, full well ready to force his attention even if he refused to give it freely. She wasn't sure if she would destroy him for stopping or for so many countless violations... Yet how many reasons he gave her to simply... give back to all he gave.