49. Harlow #3
I lick him clean, holding his gaze as I drag my tongue up his shaft.
Henry growls, shoving me onto my back in the dirt. He spreads my legs obscenely wide. I’m mortified as he licks the wetness coating my inner thighs.
He chuckles. “Poor little insatiable wife.”
Then he strikes: his teeth sink into my left inner thigh at the same time he plunges three thick fingers inside me. I scream. The pain and pleasure send me over the edge again and I come in a wet rush.
“You taste so fucking good when you’re mine,” he growls.
He pumps his fingers in and out faster and bites my other thigh. I arch off the ground. He sucks hard, and my blood rushes into his mouth. I run my hands down my aching skin. I need more. I need to be filled with him. It doesn’t matter that I’m sore. I need him to bite me all over and fuck me.
He flips me onto my hands and knees, then shoves my chest down to the ground. The pine needles on the forest floor prick my nipples.
“You look so good like this. Drenched and needy,” he says. He slaps my ass, the sting sharpening my senses.
Shadows move just past the tree line. There are even more people watching now.
Henry yanks both of my hands behind my back. Securing them in one fist, he grips my hip with the other and then pushes his thick cock inside me again.
It hurts. I’m swollen, exhausted, my muscles practically at the point of failure, but I can tell he’s going to fuck me as long as he wants.
He curses, gripping my wrists harder. “Doesn’t that feel right?” he says, his voice full of smug satisfaction. “It looks fantastic. You’re so tight, but you take me so well.”
I can do nothing but breathe, torn between pain and pleasure. I’m groaning—a deep, guttural sound that feels drawn up from the center of me.
“Keep your hands here. I’m going to fuck you like you need to be fucked now.”
He pushes in deeper, and I gasp for air.
“Mine,” Henry growls. He thrusts faster and harder, and I can barely brace against how deeply he’s fucking me now. I feel him everywhere. He releases my wrist and moves that hand around to my stomach to hold me in place as he pumps into me.
The pain finally eases. I’m so slick, and the sensation is taking me higher and higher.
The rough ground scrapes over my nipples and my hands claw at the dirt. I scream as I come harder than I have in my entire life.
Right as I’m at the peak, Henry bends over me and bites my neck. He holds me in place with his teeth as he fucks me. The pain is searing, but I’m still clenching around him, my whole body shaking. It’s brutal, animalistic, but I want more.
He shifts forward, and his weight comes down on top of me, shoving his cock deeper inside me.
I’m frenzied, screaming, coming, wanting more as he groans into my skin, his teeth sending a vibrating shiver through my body.
Finally, he withdraws his fangs and starts to drink.
He growls, sucking harder and harder, taking more blood from me than just a sip.
Suddenly, the danger slams into me.
Henry fucks me savagely. I feel him growing thicker inside me. I sense the life force is rushing out of me and into him, and fear slices through me. He’s going to kill me.
He groans, finally drawing his mouth away from the aching bite. “There it finally is. Fear. This is the perfect cocktail of you. Pleasure, lust, pain, and fear—and mine all at once.”
He bites the other side of my neck, pain lancing me as I start to struggle.
He chuckles as he drinks more of my blood.
My heart thunders. My ears ring. He sucks hard and fucks me even harder.
The more I struggle, the more frenzied he becomes, and the more punishing his thrusts.
He bites a bunch of shallow punctures down my neck just because he can, before sinking his teeth deep again.
I explode. I come so hard, my vision whites out and my mouth opens in a silent scream. Henry thrusts twice more, bottoming out as he groans and spills inside me. He takes another pull of my blood. Then he presses a kiss to the bites one by one. The tingling, itchy healing fixes them all.
He eases out of me and leans away. I can feel his heavy gaze admiring the mess he’s made of me.
I’m completely spent. My muscles are at failure. My body is prone in the dirt. My fingers and toes tingle from the lack of oxygen. My feet are cramped. My legs are still trembling.
“You look so good like this,” Henry murmurs.
I want to slap him. I want to run for my life, but I’m too exhausted to even move. Still, desire pulses in my body, a relentless burning ache for him. I want more. I’d quite literally let him fuck me to death. For a moment, I thought I had, but he understands where my line is better than I do .
He carefully rolls me over, and I stare up at him.
His mouth is smeared with blood, his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead.
His eyes are lit with lust still, and his predatory gaze rakes over my naked, bloody body.
I hate him for being so handsome, for knowing me so intimately, for understanding my darkness and showing me his own.
But mostly, I hate myself for liking it.
He places his hand on my stomach and peers through the trees around us. “This is my wife and my claimed. If anyone so much as looks at her in a way I don’t like, I will kill them slowly.”
I can barely keep my eyes open.
Henry carefully wraps me in his cloak and gathers me into his arms.
My head lolls against his chest. “You’re one of the Drained.”
“I’m not, but I’ll explain in the morning. I took a lot of blood. You need rest.”
I want to fight, but I can’t. My eyelids are too heavy. I fade in and out of consciousness as he carries me toward the manor.
When I wake again, Henry is placing me back on my feet on the plush carpet of our shared bathroom. I swat his hands away, and he retreats to give me a moment to myself.
I stare into the mirror at my face. My eyes are puffy, my cheeks flushed, and my chest marred with scratches from the dirt and branches.
I splash cold water on my face and take care of my needs, then look longingly through the open door to my room at my bed.
I want to sleep, but I need to clean the filth from my skin first, and the tub is already full of steaming water that would help my sore muscles.
Henry taps on the door behind me and enters.
He’s already naked as he peels his cloak from my body. Then, he helps me into the steaming bathtub and climbs in behind me, ignoring my protests.
“You’re too tired to be in here alone. Now, be quiet and let me clean you up.”
My mind is still hazy with a mixture of lust, anger, and fatigue. Questions bounce around my head, but I don’t know where to start.
Henry washes my hair with surprising gentleness, then scrubs the dirt and crusted blood from my skin. He presses his fingers to my pulse for a quiet moment .
“I didn’t take as much as I thought, but you should still take it easy, Harlow.”
I hate him so much, yet I still want him to touch me. I lean back against him and sigh as his hands travel down my neck and shoulders. He cups my right breast, and I arch back into him.
One caress and I’m awake, lit from within, aching for him again.
“You need rest,” he murmurs in my ear.
But I don’t want rest. I want a place to put all my anger. I want my power back.