Blaidd
The moment I reached my bedroom, I slammed the door shut behind me.
“What the fuck was that?” I snapped. “Huh?”
I stormed across the room, tossing my clothes into the laundry basket.
“You were going to bite her,” I hissed. “We don’t want her fucking dead.”
He snarled, twisting inside my chest.
Not dead, he hissed back.
Then what? I pressed, pausing to listen.
When he didn’t respond fast enough, I shook my head and shoved open the bathroom door. It slammed against the tiles and bounced back. Something cracked. Something fell behind it.
Great. More wall repairs.
I wanted to taste her, he said quietly.
“You’ve never wanted the taste of a whore before,” I muttered, twisting the knob until the shower roared to life.
I stared at the stream as steam began to rise—and with it, her scent.
It didn’t linger politely. It surged. Thick, warm, and cloying, it bloomed through the room and wrapped around me like a living thing.
Oakmoss and vetiver cut sharp beneath the heat, grounded and dark, while jasmine threaded through it all—sweet enough to turn my stomach.
It felt concentrated now, distilled by the steam, as if it had seeped into my lungs, my skin—my blood. I swallowed, jaw tightening, caught between the urge to scour it from myself and the sick pull to stand there and breathe it in. Again. And again.
I licked my lips despite myself.
My cock jerked in response, and I glanced at it in disgust. It refused to soften.
What about you? Fenrir asked, challenging me.
Rub it in, he mimicked.
Heat flared in my cheeks—shame.
And? I shot back. I always made them lick the floor clean before they left.
But we both knew the truth.
I wanted my scent to mar her flesh—to sink in, to penetrate—the same way hers already had.
I bared my teeth and forced myself to step into the shower.
But even as I washed myself from head to toe, I couldn't fully remove her scent.
?
?
?
After a long walk outside and several cigarettes, I came back inside, shutting the door firmly behind me. I glanced at the stairs, still torn, before climbing them, my hand dragging along the polished wood. My grip tightened as her scent lingered.
I really needed to get her door fixed. The only reason I hadn’t was because I knew she was already trapped—mentally.
I stepped into the dark room and drew in a breath, my scent mingling with hers. Fenrir joined me as I inhaled again. It was more palatable like this. After a few more breaths, I began to undress.
Scent or no scent, she needed to feel my presence.
I grimaced as I lifted the covers.
Why did she smell so damn good?
I slid into the bed and lay there staring at the ceiling. That’s when it hit me—waiting until next Friday might not be an option.
Fuck.
I turned away from her sleeping form and closed my eyes.
?
?
?
I grunted awake, arching my hips before I fully registered why. My arm was locked around her chest, my dick and knot pressed between the heat of her arse cheeks. Soft. Warm. My cock dripped with need.
I glanced behind me, taking in the empty expanse of the bed. Somehow, in my sleep, I’d crowded her to the edge—so close she was nearly falling off.
I cursed under my breath as Fenrir’s smug satisfaction seeped into me.
Too early for this shit.
“Go take a shower,” I snapped, pulling my arm away from her. “You fucking reek.”
No she doesn’t, Fenrir smirked.
We watched her slip off the bed, catching herself on her hands before scrambling into the bathroom.
I moved off the bed, tossing my T-shirt onto it as I left.
The last thing I wanted was to watch her naked arse prance around the room.
?
?
?
She ate, read, paced the room, and stared out of the window. Nothing new. No crying. No tormenting herself the way I’d expected. Other than the occasional blank stare between pages—nothing.
Another email popped up.
Work could go to hell.
I raked my fingers through my hair.
We own her. Take her, Fenrir repeated.
I glanced at the date.
Five days until Friday.
I stood, lifting my scotch with me, and drained it as I watched her. She sat on the bed with her back against the headboard, legs crossed, her face buried in my book.
It wasn’t the right time. Or the right day.
But standing there, I found I no longer cared.
I set the empty glass aside and turned toward the staircase.
My footsteps on the wood made her head jerk up.
“Go and stand facing the window,” I said, glancing toward it.
The white-panelled window sat low, the windowsill wide—ideal for what I had in mind. I heard her feet pad softly across the room until she stood with her back to me.
My T-shirt rested mid-thigh, but she was naked beneath it. My gaze snapped up as that concentrated scent of hers hit me all at once. Satisfaction curled low and slow.
Fenrir’s focus locked onto the pulsing vein at her jugular.
“Hands on the glass. Put your right foot on the windowsill.”
The T-shirt hiked up as she obeyed.
It still wasn’t high enough—but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that her heart was beating faster than the waves crashing outside.
I closed the gap between us.
“Did you miss me?” I asked, toying with one of her tight curls.
I realised I wasn’t wearing my gloves—but then again, I hadn’t used a condom last time either.
“No,” she said, though the word came out breathless, her breathing already growing heavier.
“You know,” I drawled, “I can hear your heartbeat—and smell your wet cunt.” I trailed my fingers down her shoulder, along her arm.
I changed tactics, slipping my hands beneath the T-shirt until I cupped her breasts.
“I like you like this,” I murmured. “Wet. Ready for me.” I tightened my grip until she sucked in a sharp breath.
I wasn’t used to feeling another person’s flesh—but hers felt right. Clean. Bearable.
I kneaded the softness until my thumbs brushed her nipples.
Her scent deepened.
I dipped my head until I could hear her pulse beating in her neck. Until her scent wrapped around us—warm, sweet, and ours to own. I tugged at her nipples, feeling them harden beneath my touch.
Fenrir wanted her.
And I wanted my release.
I moved back just long enough to unzip and ease my aching cock free. Two days I’d resisted. I was more than ready. I pushed the T-shirt aside and tapped my cock against her.
The wet, slapping sounds filled the room.
“Do you hear that?” I asked, smearing my length through her slick heat.
She didn’t reply. She didn’t need to.
My fingers curled around her thigh as I rubbed the head between her wet lips.
Ours, Fenrir hissed.
I agreed—because I would never give this up.
A human who didn’t repel me.
I guided myself inside her, feeling her stretch to accommodate me—hugging me just as tightly as she had two days ago. I slipped my hand beneath my T-shirt, cupping her soft flesh in my palm.
Yes. I could get used to touching her.
I held her in place and thrust upward. She drew me in as if her body had been shaped for me. Her broken cry didn’t stop her muscles from welcoming me—clenching, working me, pulling me home.
“Good,” I hissed close to her ear. “Work that pussy for me.”
Her fingers clawed at the glass, but her body betrayed her again, gripping me hard enough to tear a growl from my chest. I pressed closer, giving her what she never voiced but begged for all the same.
With every upward thrust, I felt her slick coat my length.
With every ragged breath, her pulse thundered louder.
I gripped her hip and drove into her—long, deep thrusts. Her head tipped back, resting against my chest. The pace turned brutal, my knot pressing insistently until she leaked over it.
This wasn’t sex.
It wasn’t ritual.
It was compulsion—a need to bury myself as deep as possible, to drown in her heat, to lose myself in her scent.
My trousers slapped against her sweet arse cheeks. Our laboured breathing tangled together, but the most satisfying sound was how perfectly she took my dick—slick, tight, and unbearably hot.
I glanced down at the vulnerable line of her neck. Releasing her breast, I gripped it hard.
Fenrir surged upright. I held him back, barely, as her pussy fluttered around me.
My vision began to blur. My balls drew tight.
“Yes,” I hissed.
Thought vanished. Instinct took over. I knew—absolutely—that I had to come inside her. Don't pull away. Not stop.
She screamed beneath my fingers, and I drove my hips up hard as my cock pulsed and twitched inside her. My come spilled deep, long and unrestrained.
My mind went blank.
That’s when Fenrir struck.
Before I could stop him. Before I even felt his fangs lengthen. He tore into her neck with a vicious snarl.
Lielit choked—yet her muscles locked around me all the same, reflexive and unforgiving, even as her blood spilled into our mouth.
It was right.
It was wrong.
It was something I had never tasted before.