Chapter VII #2
My shirt is shoved up, and sudden sharp pain slices across my abdomen. It’s so unexpected that I take my fangs from my prize and hiss at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Need lube,” he says absently, scooping up some of the blood pouring from the gash. “You’ll heal.” He presses his red-lubed fingers against my opening, massaging the firm muscles there.
He’s right; with his blood flooding my veins, the cut has already closed over, nothing but smeared blood over my skin.
His golden eyes watch me as he pushes two fingers inside. They’re thick, just like the rest of him, and the stretch brings a pleasant burn. That intense gaze flits to my lips, and I tense, knowing what he wants.
“You’re not kissing me.” I don’t kiss. It’s an act meant for lovers, not for a single fuck that will mean nothing.
Even the desire thrumming in me, calling to me and throwing all lucid thoughts out the window, isn’t enough for me to let go of that.
I have no intention of ever having a first kiss, let alone so many that it becomes nothing but another part of the act.
“No?”
Instead of answering him, since I have nothing new to add, I yank his head down.
Using a thumb on his strong jaw, I tip his head to give myself a good angle to sink my fangs back in.
The holes from the previous bite have already healed.
I want to tear him open, over and over again until it scars so that the reminder of what he let me, a vampyre, do to him is there for everyone to see.
A curse and a warning all wrapped up in one.
I suck harder until I’m almost choking from the blood pouring into my mouth while he pumps his fingers inside me, adding a third and thrusting so hard it jolts my spine.
My legs curl, knees digging into his back.
My eyes close, and I moan against his skin, pleasure attacking me from every angle.
I’m drowning in it, every inch of me on fire and burning.
The swirling lust in my gut is an inferno with no direction, and it feels like I’m being pulled inside out.
There’s a moment of sweet relief as his cock pushes inside me. Even as pain sears through me from the sheer size of him, my body relaxes, welcoming him. The blood isn’t nearly enough lube, and it doesn’t matter, the burning only tipping me closer to the edge.
It’s a strange mix of satiation and need; I’ve got what I need from his veins, but we’re not finished here.
Far from it. There’s a comfortable fullness and strength radiating through me from his blood, yet I don’t want to pull out.
I keep my fangs deep inside him as he picks up his pace, not allowing me to adjust while he fucks me hard, with bone-rattling thrusts.
He hits just the right spot, and I moan, my lips closing around his skin and locking on.
I need to stay this connected to him. A necessity, like breathing.
My fangs vibrate pleasantly as they remain surrounded by the lycan’s warmth.
I can’t help but suckle even though the action isn’t pulling out any blood.
A hand slides under the back of my head, helping keep me there while another slides under my knee and lifts my calf onto his shoulder.
It shifts the angle of his thrusts, and I cry out, fangs slipping even deeper, digging through muscle and tendon.
He growls, the loud sound reverberating around us.
He says something so thickly in my ear that I can’t make out the words.
He palms my cock, and words don’t matter.
I squeeze my eyes shut and groan as I come so hard that I can’t keep still, and I tear his skin open, fangs slipping down the curve of his shoulder.
My tongue swipes up the spilled blood, and my nerves dance from the supple taste.
The lycan roars, fingers imprinted in my hips as he fucks harder.
He sits up, removing his throat from biting distance.
My protest turns into a low moan when he lifts my lower half off the floor, arching my back and pounding manically into me.
I’m boneless, nails scraping on the stone as I become nothing but a conduit of pleasure.
A werewolf is using me like he owns me, and I want to do nothing but hang on and let it sweep me under.
He presses his hand against my mouth and orders, “Bite.”
I grasp him like a lifeline, with a strong hold around his wrists so he can’t change his mind. My fangs sink into the stretch of skin between his thumb and index finger. A second, muted dry orgasm rips through me, body trembling from the aftershocks.
The lycan’s growl is all beast, wild and unconstrained.
He bites down on the curve where shoulder meets neck, marking me.
He gives a few short, sharp, brutal thrusts and then tenses, his hips jerking against mine as he comes.
My legs slide from him as he collapses on top of me, pinning me with his weight.
Pain and pleasure pulsate through me and settle inside like they’ve always been there. The burn from the lycan’s bite spreads, burrowing in and making space for itself.