35. A Bloodier Mess
A Bloodier Mess
Isla
"Home, sweet home," Eamon nudges my shoulder, turning on all the lights in the bunker.
I never thought I'd be happy to see this place again. But when my stitches were healed and it was time to decide what we do next, I knew nothing would feel asrightas being here. For now, at least.
The warmth has become an inviting balm to the cold outside, the smell of snow and the trees outside somehow permeating the walls. It really does feel like home.
I guessthatcouldjustbe the giant beast of a man I get to share it with.I think nomatter where we go, he'll be my home.Whether it's here or on a beach in Italy.
"Are you happy to be back?" I ask him, settling into the couch.
His green eyes land on me, beaming brilliantly, "Well I'm happy that you're back. I've come and gone countless times while you've been stuck in the desert."
"Right." Bel wouldn't let him stay with us while I healed. Which, admittedly, was hilarious. "I guess you shouldn't have pissed Bel off."
He rolls his eyes playfully, planting himself in front of me and placing his palms on the back of the couch, cornering me in my seat, " I wasn't the one who ran off with a half-thought-out idea and almost got themselves killed."
"Ya know you keep saying things like half-cocked and not-thought-out but my plans have all worked out basically exactly how I thought they would," I remind him, going over the disagreement we've had several times already, each time taking it less and less seriously.
"How could you have possibly known I would find you in time?" he asks, watching me with his head tilted, a cat waiting to catch his prey.
"Fritz loves social media more than anyone I've ever met and whether you admit it or not, he sees everything , the truths and patterns others would overlook," I shrug. "And my mom loves any opportunity to brag about her successes. I used both of those facts to my advantage."
He hums in acknowledgment, "And your parents? They just believed you immediately?"
"That's the thing about cult members," I run my hand through his soft hair, fluffing it and watching as it bounces back into place. "They believe so wholly that they're right and that everyone else just needs to suffer long enough to see the light, so a sob story and a little groveling only emboldened their faith."
Lying to my parents wasn't hard.It certainly wasn't the first timeI'vehad to fake it for them for alittlewhile.But there was a burning in my chest at knowing my mom only loved this version of me, the one she concocted in her mind and tried to force me to be. She'snot capableof loving me as a person, only as a vessel through whom she can exact her ideals. That fact used to hurt, but seeing the reality of the life she's chosen and the life she wanted for me,all I feel is overwhelming pity for the person she's become.
Eamon sees the monsters trying to play with my mind, kissing me chastelyon the lipsto chase them away.
"You're not off the hook yet, you know," I tell him as his lips trace a line down my jaw.
He pulls back and looks at me strangely, "For what?"
"You lied to me," I had no intention of having this conversation with him in a hotel room with witnesses, waiting until we were in this cocoon to bring it up.
He looks up and to the side as if searching his mind for the lie I'm speaking of.
"You didn't tell me you could read minds."
A slight blush colors his cheeks, "It isn't quite like that."
"What is it like?"
"Like a phone call," he kisses my lips again. "I can make the call, but I can't force you to pick it up. Most people don't realize how wide open their minds are at any given time. It's fairly easy to implant a thought or traverse through their surface musings. But not you."
"No?"
"You, my love, are a fortress. Your mind is almost always closed, and yet, I can feel it reach for me. Whether you're awake or deeply sleeping, your psyche always searches for me." Pride shows through in his voice as he tells me, his mouth only an inch from mine, waiting for this conversation to be done so he can show mejusthow much he missed me.
But a thought tickles at the edge of my mind. Not quite a memory or a dream, but something that is both of those things andalsoneither. "In my sleep?"
He freezes, knowing he's caught. With a nervous laugh, he removes his hands from the couch,taking a stepback. "Listen. I know what you're thinking."
"Yes, we've established that," I laugh in disbelief at the secret he's just accidentally confessed to.
"No," he closes his eyes briefly before opening them witha huff oflaughter. "It was... I was... Look, I know it was stupid. But it was just a little oral. And it was so fucking good. "
"Eamon!" I don't know whether to shout at him or just laugh. He's fucking crazy, obviously. But making me come in my sleep is hardly the worst thing he's done.I stand to walk away, stillnot sureif I'm angryor not.I probably should be, but like everythingelsehe's done, he's somehow known what I want even before I was willing to admit it to myself. "In. My. Sleep?"
He catches me before I geteventwo steps away, fire in his eyes as he stares down at me, licking his lips. "Yes. In your sleep. And even in your sleep you begged me for more, trying to ride my tongue and mewling in pleasure."
"I don't believe you." I do. I just can't help but play this game with him. I'll never get sick of this push and pull, and he knows it.
His eyes narrow, "Oh? Do you need a demonstration? I haven't had my mouth on you in nearly two months so if you're issuing a challenge, I promise you I'll make you regret it. I'm thinking maybe an orgasm for every week you were gone."
"Only four orgasms? Have you lost your touch?"
A wicked laugh rumbles in his chest. "Try again. You've been away from home now for nearly eight."
My bravado dies immediately. Four I can handle. Eight sounds like torture. "Okay, wait, wait." I escape his grip, taking another step back, and he matches me, keeping me within reach. "Maybe we just— Ahh!"
Within seconds, the world spins, and I'm heaved over Eamon's large shoulder, one of his palms landing with a slap on my ass, the other locking me into place.
Hislargesteps carry us into the kitchen, and he places me on the counter, the cold steel seeping through my pants. Without hesitation, he rips my shirt up over my head, using one hand on my chest to push until I'm flat on my back, forced to comply with his rough treatment.
Eamon looks down at me, eyes hooded, drunk on lust as he pins me in place. "I'm gonna make you into a fucking mess, my sweet little hunter."
"Yeah?" I'm already a mess. Already panting and squirming just from the promise in his words.
He leans forward, dragging his lips across my collarbone, up my neck, groaning at the taste as his free hand inches towards my jeans and unbuttons them.
"Mhmm," he gently bites my neck, soothing the ache with his tongue. "That's why you're all splayed out for me right here instead of in a bed. I'm going to feast on every part of you. Your blood, every inch of your flesh, and when you're a wriggling, wanton, pathetic little mess, only then will I make this pretty cunt flood my face with come."
"My blood?" I raise a brow. "All the blood they just had to give me back?"
His face loses all color for a moment beforehe regains hismomentum, "All the blood that has smelled utterly wrong since then up until yesterday." He drags his nose along my neck, inhaling my scent deeply.
I knew he could smell my blood, but I didn't realize how different each person might differ from another in scent.
His fingers grip the waistband of my pants; I lift my hips, letting him rip them from mybodyin one swift motion, the sound of them hitting the floor echoing. Those deft digits drift along the lacy strings on my hips, sinking under one side and snapping the material against me.
"These are pretty," he comments with a smirk. "And they even match your bra. What are the chances?"
A blush works across my face. Yes, I did coordinate the black lace set, hoping today would finally be the day he touches me again. The last couple weeks have been torture. Whether because I was healing or, I guess, because of the blood thing, he's kept all of our interactions sweet and affectionate. Chaste , even. And I'm fucking dying to have him again.
He laves my stomach with his tongue, sighing in contentment. "I've missed this," he confesses. "Missed you desperately while you were gone."
"I know," I swallow down the emotion threatening to ruin the fun. "I missed you, too."
"I don't think you do know," his voice takes a wicked edge. "You left me alone in our fucking hotel room after promising that you were mine. Did you think there wouldn't be consequences?"
This isn't the first time we've been through this, and I'm sure it won't be the last. I know that what I did was horribly cruel. I've said I'm sorry a million times, but the truth is, we both know I'm not. What I did saved those people, and I'll deal with whatever retribution he thinks is fair.
"Eamon," I tug on his hair, pulling him up to kiss his soft lips. "No matter how far I went, I was always yours. Even if I'd died in there or you'd never caught up to us, I would have been yours forever."
"Forever, huh?"
"Forever."
He growls his approval, planting his lips roughly on mine, his tongue stroking mine, dancing and pinning until I pull away, needing to breathe. He takes the opening to work his deft mouth back down my neck, licking and sucking little spots along the heated skin. His teeth graze my flesh, feeling far sharper than I'm used to.
When they sink into the conjunction of my neck and shoulder, I can't stop the scream that spills out, the sudden sharp pain sending spikes of fear and need through me. He's bitten me before, but something about this time feels different. Like all pretenses are gone, leaving behind only the animal inside him.
When his sharp teeth leave my flesh, he keeps his mouth closed around the wound. I can feel as he sucks on the small holes, pulling my blood from mybodywith his soft lips. His groan of pleasure fills the room as he holds mybody tighter, drinking from my artery slowly.
When he lifts his head, only a beautiful monster is left where my Eamon was a moment ago. Crimson drips from his gorgeous mouth, those green eyes swallowed up by swirling red clouds as his lids droop and his lips pull up in an almost drunken smile.
I'm frozen in his gaze, watching this ethereal man decide what to do with me next.
His fingers drift through the still bleeding wound on my neck, gathering the scarlet liquid and smearing it in small lines down my collarbone. With the warm, sticky substance, he draws little swirls across my chest, between my breasts, seeping into the edges of my bra.
Rather than slowly ruin it with blood, he chooses toruinit swiftly, digging his fingers into each cup and ripping, the tearing sound and sensation flooding mybodywith endorphins.
His predatory gaze narrows on the hardened peaks of my tits, his blood-soaked mouth falling to take one between his lips, flicking it with his hot tongue as he lazily flicks the other with his thumb, rolling it in soft circles.
Drunk on the lust rolling through me, I reach for his shirt, needing his skin to press against mine and ground me to this moment, reminding me that we made it. Past all the bullshit, all the walls we erected between us, all the things outside of our control that would tear us apart. We beat it all, and while the threat of the Sanctum still exists outside of these walls, for now, we can just relish that we're free of them and bested them once again.
He releases me just long enough to pull the shirt over his head and throw it behind him before diving back in and devouring my tits, one after the other, driving me mad. A needy whimper escapes me, making him chuckle as his eyes dart up to mine.
Those cloudy red pools lock onto my gaze, and he sinks his sharp canines into me, twin injections of pain right above my nipple. His lips wrap around the new puncture wounds and thehardpeak, sucking on the sensitive bud and drinking from me, the pain and pleasure mixing into a drugging combination.
Blood and saliva seep from the corner of his mouth where it wraps around my breast, the warm mixture sliding across my skin, and hefollows the mess, licking it up and traversing further down mybody, leaving bloodied imprints of his lips across my skin, evidence of his kiss spreading down my stomach until he reaches the edge of my panties.
He digs his teeth into the lace, dragging them slowly down my legs like a fucking animal, his hands gripping and caressing my stomach, my thighs, my nipples, everything he can reach while he does. Once the scrap of lace falls to the floor, his lips work back up my legs, depraved moans echoing against my skin with every kiss.
His scarlet-soaked mouth and chin rub against my inner thigh, the light stubble tickling the sensitive skin.He groans,closing his eyes in bliss, "Christ, I love this.Love tasting you, scenting this gorgeous pussy just waiting patiently for me, love holding you close and feeling yourbodyshake."
"Yeah?" It's hardly a dignified response, but I can feel each huff of his breath against my folds. The only thing I love more than taking him inside me is how much he fucking talks when we're joined. He invades everysingleone of my senses, owning me inside and out.
He drives his sharp teeth into my thigh, creating another set of puncture wounds for him to lave over, soaking his face as he laps up the dripping wounds, his fingers taking some of the seeping liquid and using it to draw little hearts across my hip and thighs, turning me into a macabre work of art.
The bite marks all throb, adding to the layers of sensation building inside me, bringing me almost to orgasm just from the sensitivity, the endorphin rush of this concentrated pain.
Finally, his bloody lips find my core, his hot tongue flattening against my opening, dragging to gather all the wetness there before pressing it against my clit, pulling out a loud moan from both of us.
"So fucking delicious," he grunts, gripping my thighs with both hands to pull them further apart, "Can't believe it's been two months since I've had you in my mouth and my hands."
I can't speak, can't do anything but moan and mewl and writhe as his perfect lips and tongue devour me. His lower face smears blood and slick all over the both of us, the combination dripping onto the countertop as he devours me like a man starved. He grunts and groans, moaning into every sordid kiss against my cunt, drawing away just long enough to look a the masterpiece he's created before diving back in, his efforts doubled.
The orgasm hits me out of nowhere, a loud cry of pleasure surprising us both as mybodytakes over, my hips moving on their own, my legs trying to close against the onslaught of sensation, and my toes curling.
Eamon pushes me through the discomfort, well past the point of overstimulation, until I'm mewling, whimpering, trying topushhis head away from my core for just a moment of reprieve.
Instead, he digs his fingers into my thighs, spreading them obscenely wide with a vicious growl, "I'm not done yet. Settle in, honey, cuz you still owe me seven fucking more."
"Just," I whine, "Just give me a second."
"No," he bites out, his teeth grazing my clit and making me squeal. His ministrations against me turn savage, his tongue fucking into me recklessly, his fingers digging little bruises into my hips and thighs.
Still working that hot mouth between my legs, Eamon grows to his demon size, his massive tongue undulating inside me as I wriggle against the new sensation. His skin turns blue-black, those giant antlers forming atop his head as his fingers turn into claws, adding another pinch of pain along my skin.
His sharp canines scratch against my pubic bone as he fucks me with his giant tongue, the blood and saliva-coated appendage ravaging my insides, wriggling and reaching places only he can.
Once again, the pressure builds, that hot tension at the base of my spine warning of the impending explosion.
As he relentlessly slides it against every inch of my pussy, inside and out, his phantom voice fills my head.
This pussy is fucking mine.
I love filling it withany andevery part of me you'll take.
It stretches so perfectly around me— Christ, I love having my tongue all the way inside you, making you fucking cry with it.
His filthy words echoing in my mind, paired with the pressure on that spot inside me, turn my wholebodyinto molten lava, a scream of ecstasy bouncing off the walls around us as I come undone again, the muscles inside me squeezing and releasing his tongue in a rhythm only we know.
He groans with me, making his tongue writhe inside me and draw out my pleasure until I turn boneless, sagging against the steel and panting, unable to keep my eyes open and watch any longer.
Thoroughly pleased with himself, he gently eases his tongue out, and I hiss from the sudden loss of warmth inside me.
"Oh, honey," he coos, his voice sounding further away, "you're so beautiful like this. A stunning, filthy little work of art on display just for me."
I force my eyes open to see him standing up to his full height above me, the monstrosity and beauty of histrueform taking me by surprise every single time.I believe italways will, no matter how many years we have together.
"That's two," his claws dance against my skin, tracing the swirls he left behind, the blood drying on my skin. "Only six more to go."