Married To Darkness-Chapter 357: The Fight

The warmth of the hearth filled the room, casting flickering shadows along the stone walls, but Salviana barely registered it.

What stirred her from sleep wasn’t the crackling fire but the heat pooling between her thighs—the sensation of warm lips trailing over her skin, a soft yet deliberate pressure that sent a shiver spiraling through her spine.

Her heavy lids fluttered open, her breath catching in her throat as the scene before her became clear. Nestled between her parted thighs, Alaric—her proud, stubborn husband—was lavishing attention on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, his mouth moving in slow, torturous nibbles from one side to the other, inching closer to the aching heat at her center.

A gasp left her lips when his thumbs spread her open, exposing her most intimate place to his hungry gaze.

"Alaric?" she moaned, barely able to form his name.

His deep groan vibrated against her skin, sending another jolt of pleasure through her. "My fiery one," he rumbled, his breath hot against her core.

The room was warm, but Salviana felt like she was burning from the inside out. She was mostly bare, save for the thin sheet that had long since slipped down to her waist. The fire Alaric had stoked in the hearth was nothing compared to the one he was stoking within her.

"You said you weren’t interested," she managed to tease, but the words dissolved into a breathy moan when his mouth finally descended.

Alaric took his time. He was slow, deliberate, and devastatingly sensual. Salviana’s nipples hardened, painfully sensitive, begging for attention.

As if reading her thoughts, Alaric slid a hand up her body, his fingers capturing a peaked bud between his thumb and index finger, rolling and pinching it in time with the sinful strokes of his tongue below.

Her body arched in response, her breath coming in sharp, desperate pants.

He parted her with his fingers, exposing her delicate nub, and then—gods—he flattened his tongue, dragging it from the source of her honey up to the tip of her clit.

He circled it lazily before diving down again, sweeping his tongue through her slick folds, drinking her in like she was the sweetest nectar.

Salviana shuddered, toes curling, her fingers threading through his thick hair.

She was still sore, her body sensitive from earlier, but that only heightened the sensation. Every stroke, every flick, every teasing suck sent her spiraling further into pleasure.

A helpless moan broke the quiet of the chamber.

Alaric groaned in response, the sound vibrating against her core, intensifying the pleasure building inside her. His free hand moved from her breast to her hip, pressing her down as she writhed, trying to push closer, deeper into his mouth.

She was close, so close—

"Release for me, fiery wife," he growled against her, his voice raw, demanding.

She shattered.

Pleasure consumed her, wave after wave crashing over her, stealing the breath from her lungs. She trembled, her thighs clenching around him as he licked her through it, drinking in every last drop of her release.

When the aftershocks finally faded, Alaric moved up her body, his lips capturing hers in a slow, claiming kiss. She tasted herself on his tongue, and something about it sent another shiver through her.

She was no longer sleepy.

He drew the covers over both their bodies, propping himself on his elbow, watching her with a look that made her stomach twist in the best way.

"Let’s continue," Salviana whispered, pressing closer, her fingers brushing along the ridges of his toned abdomen. "I’m ready."

She needed him—desperately.

Alaric chuckled softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. "No, you’re not."

Salviana scowled, sitting up quickly, only to notice the way his breath hitched as her bare breasts brushed against his face. But still, he resisted.

"Are you being serious?" she demanded.

Alaric sighed, his expression patient yet firm. "I think we should take our time."

"Alaric," she whined, disappointment heavy in her voice.

"Yes, Salviana?"

"You’re being selfish! I don’t understand anymore."

Alaric rubbed a hand over his face, his jaw tight.

"Do you not love me?" she asked suddenly, her voice smaller, her heart trembling on the edge of vulnerability.

Alaric’s eyes snapped to hers, sharp and intense. "Salviana, I love you. I love you, and that’s why I said we should wait. We have forever together. If you don’t go wandering off alone and scaring the hell out of me—"

"Oh my goodness, Alaric," she cut in, eyes widening in disbelief.

He immediately realized his mistake, reaching for her. "I’m sorry—"

"No," she snapped, her palm flying up in a sharp motion, stopping him. "Keep to yourself!"

With a furious huff, she threw off the covers and climbed out of bed, her bare skin glowing in the firelight. She reached for a robe, her movements stiff with frustration.

Alaric sat there in his pants, his expression unreadable, but his heart—gods, his heart—felt like it was locked in a vice.

He wouldn’t lose her over something as fleeting as physical pleasure.

But it appeared he needed to prove his love somehow.

Dearest gods.

Salviana however, after her argument with Alaric called in the maids to help her prepare for the day.

Sarah and Thalia moved with quiet efficiency, sensing the charged air in the room. They exchanged fleeting glances but knew better than to ask questions. The tension was thick, and even without words, they could feel the weight of their lady’s emotions.

The bath was drawn, and Salviana stepped in, the warm water soothing her tense muscles. Normally, Alaric would have been here—helping her bathe, teasing her, pressing lazy kisses to her shoulder—but today, she was alone with the maids.

She let them wash her, dry her, and apply her scented oils without protest. When they moved to do her hair and makeup, she sat still, her expression unreadable.

From the corner of the room, concealed in shadows, Alaric sat in his usual chair. He had come in quietly, without announcement. His gaze never left her, but he said nothing.