Chapter Sixteen #3
Taking her by her word, I give in to the baser hunger building in me.
Not the gnawing hunger that lives in my stomach and behind my teeth, but the one beneath my tongue and pooled between my legs.
I fall into her with a fervor, desperate and glutinous.
My lips press against every surface I can reach, and my teeth scrape along the sharp angles of her bones.
They catch on the pert rise of her nipples, and I take them into my mouth one by one, wrap my arms around her waist when she sighs and arches into me, absorb every pleased hum and muttered praise.
I lose myself in her without an ounce of fear or shame, letting her guide me where she wants, as a messiah might guide their apostles. As the Devil guides his armies.
"Azizi." Her name is a promise and a plea all at once when she slips my hand between her legs.
I cannot help the groan I press to her shoulder when I feel how wet she is because of me, for me, and I am determined to give back to her the gift of worship in exchange for the attention she showers me with. "Azizi—"
"Perfect Theodore," she replies, her head falling back with a long, pleased breath when I finally sink my fingers into her.
Her body rolls and shifts the same as it did that night I first saw her covered in blood, and it takes me a moment to realize she is riding my hand as if it's a cock. "There, yes—"
I bring her to pleasure slowly at first, then faster and faster.
Driving her towards the edge like a weak and desperate thing.
When my wrist grows too tired, I tip her onto her back instead, resting her at the edge of Kolfina's skirts like an offering, before putting my mouth to her and gorging myself on the sounds of her cries and the taste of her desire.
If only I could replace my sinful cravings for something sweeter like this.
If only my monster demanded I sink my tongue into Azizi’s cunt, rather than my teeth into her flesh.
If only I could survive on the warm pleasure that spills from her as I bring her to that crest again and again, rather than the blood that once pumped through her veins.
When she finally pushes my head away, oversensitive and breathless, I can almost convince myself I am full.
Azizi pulls me into a kiss, unbothered by her wetness soaking my mouth and chin, dripping down my throat to pool in the sharp cliff of my collarbone. “My, you are a gift, aren’t you? As if you are made just for us. Oh, how lucky we are. Isn’t that right, petal?”
Before I can register the movement, Azizi is behind me once more, one hand grasping at my hair and the other dipping between my legs. Pain stings at my scalp as she pulls my head back, directing my gaze to the woman across from us.
“Look at him, Kolfina, so desperate for us. Is he not beautiful?”
Kolfina bites harder into her lip when she nods, her fingers bunching up the fabric of her skirts as if to keep herself from reaching out for something she cannot physically touch.
Her breath hitches as she watches Azizi’s fingers slip into me, her eyes following the curve of my body as I arch into the touch, a pitiful whine spilling from my throat before I can stop it, my eyes fluttering shut.
“Can you touch yourself?” Azizi asks suddenly, and for a moment I think she is speaking to me.
If not for her digging the heel of her palm into my clit, I might have tried doing so without question.
Instead, I pry my eyes open just in time to see Kolfina cover her face with quivering hands, dragging them through loose, ringlet curls as she tries to hide how flustered the question makes her.
“You do not have to, Kolfina,” Azizi assures her, “but I think we both would like to see what pleasure looks like on your lovely face.”
God, I would. I cannot touch her myself, but to see how she brings herself to the edge, to see her tip over it…
“Please,” I gasp out, raising my hands to dig into Azizi’s hair, in need of something to hold onto as I ride her fingers. “Please, I want to see it. I want to see you.”
There is a sort of fear in her eyes, uncertainty too. I wonder to myself if she has ever done this before, either with another, or on her own. Does she know what to do? Does she know what Azizi is asking her?
Then that shy interest takes control again, and Kolfina bunches up her skirt and plunges her hand down beneath them where we cannot see her.
Azizi rewards her with a pleased hum and another finger in my cunt, her thrusts slowing to a teasing crawl, watching as Kolfina appears to mimic the movements.
I wish I could hear her—would she whine or gasp?
Would she plead for us as I am pleading for her, rocking down to meet Azizi’s fingers in frantic jerks of my hips?
Would she say our names, whisper them in the dim candlelight like secrets?
Or would she scream them as she tips over that edge, her legs quaking and her head tossed back to the heavens?
“Look at you both,” Azizi croons in my ear, tongue tracing the strained muscles in my neck, “so good for me.” Her fingers speed up, and Kolfina’s follow.
The words feel distant, foggy in the back of my mind.
I cannot focus on anything aside from the building pressure in my belly and the pale stockings growing wetter and wetter between Kolfina’s thighs.
Sharp teeth graze the path of Azizi’s tongue. The pressure builds.
“Let me taste you, Theodore.”
“Merde.”
The expletive slips off my tongue, and my hips sputter with her request. I cannot speak, reduced to nothing but animal whines and grunts, but I drop my head back on her shoulder and bare my throat to her as I watch Kolfina’s face scrunch up in a beautiful display of desperate pleasure.
It is permission enough, as a moment later, Azizi’s fangs pierce into the meat of my shoulder, and I am gone.
My orgasm hits me fast and hard, blindsiding enough to wrench a sob from my throat as I spill across Azizi's hand.
I can feel the blood moving through my veins and toward her mouth.
I can hear the thick, wet swallows as she drinks.
Her fingers do not stop moving; her thumb presses against my clit harder, sending pain-pleasure-pain ricocheting through my body like lightning.
Across from us, Kolfina tosses her head back and spasms. Her mouth drops open wide in a silent cry; her skin ripples with flowers that sprout and bloom and decay all in a matter of moments.
I swear for a second I can hear her, that same eerie song I have heard so many times from my bedroom window.
Swear I can smell her, the subtle hint of honeysuckle and forget-me-nots mixing with the warm musk of ecstasy that drips between her legs.
Azizi’s fingers crook and press deeper inside me, her tongue sweeping up errant rivulets of blood.
I am torn between begging for mercy and giving myself over to her monster. Giving her everything that I have and more, until she is full and satisfied and alive.
Perhaps it would be a nicer death, to die by her hunger and not my own.
I close my eyes and welcome the pull.