Chapter 11 #2
“Nothing. I would get on my knees and bleed for you, if it meant I got to taste you. But you don’t heal the way I do, and I don’t think marking your pretty, smooth skin right before your sister’s wedding is the done thing. So how about we save that for another time.”
She opens her mouth and then closes it, the realisation washing over both of us that there won’t be another time.
Her eyes drop. My stomach sinks. I hate it when she looks sad. I never want to be the cause of that expression. My fingers find their way to her lace panties.
She gasps.
“You don’t need me to bite you to give you the best orgasm of your life.”
Her expression melts, lust pooling in her heavy eyelids. “Oh,” she hums. “Then what do I need?”
“Just my tongue.” I lean down between her legs, licking my way up her thigh, all teeth and lips until she rests against the wall and spreads for me.
I slide my hands over her hips and pull her underwear off. She has the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Fuck blood, I’d rather eat this for the rest of my days.
She glistens. I should praise her, tell her what a good girl she is, but I know that won’t work. I grin, knowing exactly what will have her soaking this table.
“Look how wet you are, Princess.”
She sucks her bottom lip in.
“Is that all for me?”
She nods and shifts her backside closer to the edge of the dresser, spreading her pussy to obscene proportions.
“Such a dirty little whore.” I wipe my finger down her slit, coating my finger in her excitement. “Open,” I demand.
Her mouth drops, obedient at last. I slide my finger over her tongue. “Clean it.”
She sucks my finger, drinking down her excitement. My entire body tightens at the sight of her doing exactly as I command.
It’s a drug.
She’s a fucking drug, addling my brain, fucking with my reality.
She soaks into every cell and pore and my mind fills with her.
Every muscle heats, my pussy throbs. I haven’t let her touch me.
Not yet. I don’t often let women touch me.
But I need her. Need to see her between my legs, obedient, pleasing me.
I pull my finger out and she bites down. I growl as I yank it out and she giggles.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she says. “I have something that will make it better.”
She takes my injured finger and slides it up her thigh right to her entrance. She pushes me inside her soaking cunt. And then she rocks on my hand, fucking herself, taking exactly what she wants from me.
I’m so stunned that I’ve allowed her to take control. She’s worked her way into my system like poison. Infecting me.
“Fuck me, Dahlia,” she whispers. “Please?”
Her words are a spark and an ignition. I drop to my knees and draw my tongue over her wet slit. I lick her pussy — lapping and flicking at her hardening clit.
“Oh gods,” she moans, her hips bucking. “More, please, more…” she begs.
Her words flood my mind; wave after wave of chemistry alters my brain. I want to give her more. Give her everything. I slide another finger in her pussy and she gasps. She tastes sweet and musky and like a hit from the strongest blood I’ve ever consumed.
I realise then, I don’t want to let go. Regardless of what we said, I don’t actually want this to end.
But it’s going to. I fuck her slowly, lovingly. I don’t go hard; I don’t spank her or out-dom her brat.
I worship her.
And that is terrifying. I listen to the movement of her body, tilting my head and moving my tongue, focusing on her, her body, her pleasure. I adjust, move and wind her tighter.
Her pussy throbs against my fingers, tightening and loosening as I drive her higher and higher.
I glance up and note the hard points of her nipples against the silken fabric of her dress.
“Dahlia, fuck,” she breathes.
I suck her clit into my mouth and rub against her wall. Soft, soft, hard. Over and over. Her legs shake against my cheeks, she’s panting and sweating. I glance up again and realise she’s crying.
I pause.
“Don’t. Don’t stop,” she says. “I’m so close.”
I lap at her pussy faster and faster, my fingers moving in a steady rhythm, dragging the pleasure out as long as I can. Her body practically vibrates against me.
She bucks twice; she’s ready. I drive my fingers in hard against her wall. She gasps. My tongue flicks her clit once, twice more and she cries out. There’s a rushing vibration against my fingers and then she soaks me, squirting over my face and chin as she screams my name.
I grin, thoroughly fucking pleased with myself as I lap up the remains from her still twitching pussy.
She’s completely boneless and unable to communicate, so I lift her up off the dressing table to avoid any of her juices messing up her dress and carry her to the bed.
We stay there, spooning. And I think it’s the most normal thing I’ve ever done. I lay my head on her back and close my eyes, wishing it wasn’t the first or the last time it would happen.
Wondering whether it’s better to have had her, knowing I have to lose her, or if I should never have come here at all.
My chest aches so hard, I’m struggling to breathe against her skin. Strange really, that we can ache for something we’ve never even had.