Chapter Seventeen #4
And then he did, and oh, it was so much worse than she’d imagined. He didn’t tell her to cut more deeply or press the wound
to his mouth. He didn’t strain up, hoping to sink his teeth in.
He said, “Let me lick you.”
He said, “Let me stroke all wet and soft all over you.”
He said, “I won’t use anything sharp. Only the sweetest and tenderest of things.”
And it got hold of her like nothing she’d ever known. For a moment she thought he’d thralled her—it was that intense. It made
her heart thunder; it made her breath hitch in her chest. She could almost feel what it would be like, before she’d even lowered
her hand to him.
Then found that she had lowered it, without actually being aware.
Her palm was now barely an inch from his parted lips. He could have lifted his head and done just as he’d suggested. But she
suspected the reason he didn’t. It wasn’t as satisfying to take it, when another second might see her freely give it. Just
a little more of this heavy tension, just a few more thoughts of what that sensation would be like. Just one more word, she thought.
And he gave it, too.
“Please,” he said.
She had to put her other hand around her wrist, to stop herself from immediately giving in.
And even then, she could feel her resolve crumbling.
Her grip shook; it was like holding up a thousand-pound weight.
One that gained another ton for every second she held it.
Soon, she was so close she could feel his breath on her skin.
She could feel that tongue of his, stirring the air around her hand.
Almost licking her. Her almost liking it.
And all while he lost himself completely. That red was now flowing over his lips, and it made him frantic. It made him moan
and rock—like someone being fucked. Every bit of him entirely abandoned to the sensation, unaware of where he was or what
he was doing.
She suspected that was how it happened.
He didn’t mean to do it. He just wanted to get as deeply into that deliciousness as he could go—and when he did, something
slick simply brushed against the thickest part of her thumb. Barely anything, no part of the place sensitive at all. Yet the
effect was stunning. It made her gasp.
She gave in to that weight without a moment more of fight.
Just to get it again, just to get it one more time.
That sweet flicker of his tongue over her skin.
And somehow, he did just that. He immediately followed the path that blood had made over her fingers, until he had found that
curve between two. That intimate space, far more sensitive than where she had felt him lick first. Though she had to say,
it wasn’t the physical sensation that made her act.
It was the sight of it.
The rudeness of it.
The slick curl of that tongue easing between the split of her fingers.
Suggestive, in a way she simply wasn’t prepared for. Her mind immediately went to spread legs, and someone with their face between them. And as soon as it did, she was gone. Her hand was over his mouth, pressing. Every bit of her sizzling, when he pressed back.
But oh, the best part wasn’t that.
It was when he suckled at that bloody line she’d drawn. Sought it out, again and again, with his greedy mouth. It was unbelievable.
Beyond anything. She could almost feel it connecting, somehow, with that unbearable ache between her legs. “Oh yes,” she found
herself moaning.
And she couldn’t even regret it.
Because he moaned back.
The sound reverberated through him and into her, heightening every single deranged sensation as it went. Suddenly she wasn’t
just enjoying it. She wasn’t just letting herself be lewd over it. She was leaning in. She was leaning down. Like she actually
wanted him to claim something other than her hand.
She wanted him at her throat.
It feels so good, oh, so good, her mind murmured. Where would the harm be to just feel him there? Where would the harm be to let him put that mouth on that curve? And in that moment, she truly had no idea. All she knew was that her body was thick with sensation, and so desperate to drown
in it that drowning felt like good sense.
Because yes, she’d suffocate.
But oh, wouldn’t it feel glorious to do it?
Didn’t she want to feel glorious, for once?
Yes, she thought, and tilted her head. Turned, so he could. Honestly, she thought she even felt his sharp teeth, grazing her neck. And then she saw it, out of the corner of her eye. The bloom of her magic, just as it had come to her before. Like a warning shot, like a life preserver.
And she seized it.
She took hold, as she had in the ballroom. Only this time, it didn’t singe him.
It seemed to snap against her. It almost blew her back, hard enough that she found herself on the floor. Dazed, hardly able
to believe what had happened. But still in one piece. Still unbitten. She had seen real sense at the last second, and saved
herself.
Then she met his low-lidded gaze, across the bedroom, and saw those parted lips, red with blood—and she knew. The ability
to get out of this was never going to hold, for long. She was deep in it, all the way up to her neck.
And there was really no escaping now.