Chapter 7 #2
Blake looked up at me, somehow radiating an inferno yet also steely as ice. I was all over his mouth, shiny slick remnants of my arousal coating him like a second skin. “I’m going to let go of your wrists now. Don’t fucking move,” he instructed.
I opened my mouth to protest. Then shut it again.
This was what I wanted. What I’d dragged him here for.
I managed the weakest of nods and did as he said.
His hands caressed my thighs, moving down gently.
Then his mouth found my clit again, ravaging it with expertise, as he slid one finger inside me, then another.
Nothing had ever felt like this. This intense and incredible pull.
The pressure in my clit throbbed. I felt myself on the edge. About to come.
Blake buried his face deeper between my hips, and I could feel the explosion rising. I ground against him as his fingers plunged in and out, in and out.
“Please,” I moaned.
He pulled his face away and stood up.
I looked up at him in disbelief. “What are you doing?”
“Turn around.”
“What?”
“You wanted this, Pendragon. You asked for it. You dragged me here. Need I remind you?”
“No, but you’re doing it anyway,” I muttered.
He smirked—that glorious, infuriating fucking smirk—and unbelievably, I felt the wetness between my legs grow. Hell, if he wasn’t the absolute picture of everything I wasn’t supposed to want. A secret thrill went through me. But mine. I turned around slowly.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Put your hands down flat on the desk and bend over.”
I gritted my teeth but did as he asked. “Really getting into the role-playing, aren’t we?”
His voice was suddenly in my ear with vampire speed. “You’ve been a naughty girl, Miss Pendragon. And now you’re about to be punished. Punished for being the most fuckable girl in the entire blooddamned school.”
I opened my mouth to make a hot retort just as I felt his cock press against my entrance. I moaned; it felt so good. Blake’s fingers expertly strummed my clit.
“Blake, please,” I said, clenching my jaw.
“It’s Professor Drakharrow, actually,” he murmured, his mouth dancing over the soft skin at my throat. “There’s so much I want to teach you about the ways of pleasure, Miss Pendragon.”
“You’re enjoying this a little too much,” I whispered, “Professor.”
“Bloodwing professors aren’t technically supposed to compromise their students, you know,” he breathed. “And yet … here we are.” His teeth found purchase, sinking into the tender skin.
“Here we are,” I gasped. The gasp turned into a moan as his cock slid inside me.
“I can’t believe you came to class dressed like this today, Miss Pendragon,” he murmured, sliding his hands over my ass, then gripping my hips as he thrust.
“Yes, stark naked as always,” I said through clenched teeth.
“I find I can focus better this way.” I closed my eyes, losing myself in the blissful feeling of his cock pumping in and out of me.
Just when I thought he’d filled me with his length completely, he pulled out, then thrust back in. I screamed.
“I’ll take it that was an appreciative sound,” he said, lapping and licking at my neck before finally pressing his fangs into me. “You’ll receive full marks for this.”
I shivered. I’d never get over the—quite frankly—humiliating fact that having his fangs sink into me felt, well, fucking good.
Really fucking good. As did the sensation of his tongue licking up the bloody remnants, sliding over the tiny puncture marks he’d no doubt left on my skin.
Marks that would quickly heal as they always did, now that I was willing and compliant.
“What’s the matter? Are you having trouble taking all of me now, Miss Pendragon?”
“Oh, I can take it,” I breathed, as he gripped my hips.
“Good,” he whispered. “Now touch yourself. You know you want to.”
I whimpered slightly as I slid one hand between my legs, gripping the desk with my other.
My clit was already swollen and throbbing from his earlier ministrations.
I tilted my head down, letting my long hair cascade around my shoulders, then closed my eyes, imagining how we must look together.
I wished I had a mirror so I could see just how incredible Blake Drakharrow looked fucking me from behind over a teacher’s desk.
But in the meantime, my imagination would have to suffice.
“You feel,” Blake growled from behind me, “fucking exquisite, little dragon. And you taste …” he snarled and sank his fangs back into my neck as I gasped in delight “ … you taste even better.” He moaned—a sound I absolutely reveled in having elicited.
Blake pulled away, and I felt him trembling against me, holding himself back from coming.
Simply holding on to the feeling of ecstasy that this—our being together, two bodies united—created.
“You taste so sweet, Pendragon,” he whispered, nuzzling his mouth against me. “Do you like how I fuck you?”
A moment’s hesitation. Then, “Yes. No one’s ever made me feel this way. This good.”
It was a confession I hadn’t meant to make. I felt him go very still.
When he spoke again, his voice was quiet.
“You don’t know what you do to me. You don’t know how much I’m holding back.
I crave everything about you, Pendragon.
Your voice, your lips, your body. And the sounds you make when you come?
Sheer perfection.” He kissed his way down my neck, then slid his hand over mine, rubbing my clit with his finger.
“Come for me now, little dragon. Come for me.”
And I did. Exploding at his fingers, while his cock filled me up and he thrust hard into me, shoving my thighs against the table so roughly I knew I’d have bruises afterwards.
I didn’t care. I saw stars. Sparks. Fire.
Whatever you want to call it at that moment you reach your climax, I was there, floating, weightless, breathless.
I heard Blake cry out, felt him bury his head against me, then lift his hands to cup my breasts—a gesture so perfect, so gentle, it shocked me.
And then I was falling back to earth, my body trembling, tears inexplicably streaming down my cheeks, as I turned towards him.
“Hey, hey, what’s this?” he said, sounding startled. He reached a hand up, touching the wetness on my cheeks. “What did I do?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, trying to wipe the tears away.
Blake didn’t say anything, just looked down at me for a moment. And then he was scooping me up, lifting me into his arms.
“What are you doing?” I exclaimed. “Put me down …”
But it was too late. With one great arm movement, he’d cleared the remainder of things littering the desk behind us.
I had a moment of guilt thinking of the poor instructor who’d be cleaning up later.
And then Blake was laying me down, carefully, with infinite tenderness, and then climbing up beside me, lying down on the desk next to me and pulling me into his arms, until his chin rested atop my head.
“What is—” I started to say.
“Hush,” he commanded. Not meanly, just firmly. He tilted his head a little, and I felt him inhale. He was breathing me in, I realized. Smelling my hair.
“What do I smell like?” I asked, unable to resist. I grimaced, remembering. “Probably like Larissa’s blood.”
“You smell nothing like Larissa. A vampire can smell your true scent even beneath the filth.”
Was he calling Larissa filth? I felt myself smile. “Tell me, then.”
He sniffed again. Then sighed appreciatively. “You smell like autumn.”
“Autumn?” I said dubiously. “It’s winter.”
“You smell like autumn even in winter. Like fallen leaves.”
“Like decay, in other words?”
He pinched my upper arm playfully, and I squealed. “I told you to hush,” he reminded me.
“Oh, are you still playing professor, Professor Drakharrow?”
“Autumn leaves,” he repeated, ignoring me. “Jasmine. Vanilla.” He took another sniff. “Blueberry tarts.”
“I had a blueberry tart at lunch,” I said, impressed. “Can you really still smell that?”
I felt him nod his head. “And beneath all of it, the rich scent of your blood. Potent. Powerful.”
I waited for the inevitable word. When it didn’t come, I felt oddly disappointed. “Aren’t you going to say it?” I teased.
Blake was quiet for a long time.
“I’m not sure what you want to hear, but … I know I owe you an apology beyond words.”
I froze. This wasn’t what I’d been expecting. That didn’t mean it was unwelcome either.
“I owe you an apology today and every single other fucking day for the rest of our lives.” I felt him give a choked laugh as he held me. “However long that might be.”
I frowned, disliking the bleakness I heard there. The hint of hopelessness. That wasn’t the Blake I knew.
Before I could stop myself, it slipped out. “I think I already have.”
I felt him turn his head, trying to look down at me. “What?”
My lips suddenly felt dry. I licked them carefully. “Forgiven you, you idiot. I think I already have.”
He stayed silent. Good. I kept going. “Besides, I’m not the only one who’s lost something, am I? Aenia. I’m … truly sorry, Blake. I’m sorry about your sister.”
His gaze dropped. The fire was still there between us. But it was calmer now. A fire you could hold in a hearth. Not the raging forest fire it had been a few moments before. “I never expected … this,” Blake said, his voice low. “With you. Ever again.”
I pushed away from him a little, so I could tilt my head up and see his face.
One eye was stormy gray. The other was …
ravaged. He might have chosen to wear a patch over it.
But so far, he hadn’t. It was just like Blake not to bother trying to put others at ease with the truth of his appearance.
I traced the outline of his eye socket with a fingertip, very gently.
“I feel like I’m burning alive when I’m with you,” I whispered.
“And the worst part is … I don’t care. I don’t want it to stop.
” I shook my head. “Even after all the shit that’s happened between us. ”
Blake nudged my forehead gently with his, his breath mingling softly with mine.
The gesture was tender, almost dragonlike.
“You’re the only part of this place that doesn’t feel toxic, Pen-dragon,” he whispered back.
“You’re the only thing that feels real.” He took a deep, ragged breath.
“Being with you makes me want to believe I can be something better than what I’ve been. ”
My heart ached at the stark honesty in his words.
I reached up, fingers brushing along the line of his jaw, lingering on the scars that still marred his face.
Every mark a story that had led us here, every scar a sign of how much he was willing to sacrifice for my sake. “You already are,” I whispered.
His eyes softened, gray eyes less stormy, and I told myself the red I’d glimpsed in them earlier had just been my imagination. Blake was not Viktor. It was only my fear that was causing me to see a resemblance where there was none.
We lay together, breathing slowly, the moment a temporary peace in a little hidden corner of our chaotic world.