19. Belle
Belle
He’s right. I never should have entered his room. He’s my captor. A monster. Sure, I’ve developed a fondness for him, but this—his head between my thighs lapping up my blood—this is definitely too much. “Jesus Christ!” I yell before biting my fist. Yes, far too much. But also so fucking good.
His tongue spears through me, licking every inch before driving into the source.
The sound is obscene, wet and messy, making my insides heat to dangerous, explosive levels.
He drinks me in, forcefully, as if he’s clearing out my cervix.
This could be a win-win scenario if after this, I don’t have to walk around with my makeshift pad that barely works.
After the full night of being tricked and beaten, I should have returned to my room to lick my wounds.
But while scurrying down the halls, Rourke’s cries pulled at my heartstrings.
He sounded like a wounded animal. Perhaps it was the idea of helping someone to take my mind off my own disparagement, but I made my way in to soothe the scaled beast. Little did I know, his terror would incite my own fear.
His shirtless figure took up far too much of his bed.
His lower half was covered by a white sheet, but I could tell he was bare underneath.
Bulging muscles strained as he cried out, an invisible weight resting on his chest. Before I could stop myself I crawled next to him, cooing him awake like a mother hen.
I should have known he’d be interested in my menstruation.
He drank my blood, and here I was rubbing my bloody pussy all over him like an invitation for a midnight snack.
He always scares me, but as of late, I’ve started to trust he won’t cut me in half.
Until the moment he noticed my blood, and he couldn’t refuse himself. I nearly shit my pants.
At the end of the day, I’m just a girl. And he’s a hulking, scaled man with biceps as big as my head and a jawline I could crack a tooth on.
Resisting him felt like a betrayal to all womankind, but I worried that if I gave him an inch, he’d take a mile and I’d find myself fucked—literally, with a womb filled by a Neverhaven heir. Not part of my plan.
But then he kind of just went to town anyways, and I wasn’t in the mood to fight too hard, and thank the Lord for that.
I prop myself up on my elbows. I’d be a shame to miss a glimpse of him between my legs.
The moonlight washes his back on a blanket of silver.
His muscles move like waves on a stormy night.
His lower half grinds into the bed beneath us.
Amidst the scales, raised scars decorate his skin.
I’m reminded of the brutality he must have faced.
I ache to reach out and touch him, attempt to soothe the calloused injuries. Again my hardened heart softens.
“Fuck,” he garbles as he works, moaning as he sucks, as if I’m the one between his legs instead of him between mine.
I’ve never gotten off from anything other than clitoris stimulation, and although Rourke’s eagerness flickers the flame that will no doubt set off my nerves, I doubt I’ll come just from him inserting his tongue in and out of me.
He wants my blood: nothing more. No matter how obviously sexual this is, he’s taking his fill, but I can’t complain.
To my surprise, his attention moves higher, and his lips wrap around my bud.
“Rourke,” I cry, taking two handfuls of his velvety black hair.
He pulls back. “Please, Belle, let me finish.” He’s begging, pained as if he’ll heed my demand but crumble if I don’t let him bring me to my edge. I push his head down, and he exhales in relief.
“God, how do you know how to do that?” I ask, hoping he won’t answer, hoping he’ll never stop sucking while his tongue flicks perfectly.
Thankfully, he only groans, thrusting against the sheets, shaking the bed.
He’s so focused on bringing me pleasure that I sputter, my muscles tightening and clenching.
“Fuck!” I yell. My mind washes blank and my body is nothing but a vessel for nerve endings, on fire yet soothed at the same time.
He continues until my release passes through me completely and I’m pushing his shoulders, too sensitive for any more.
He sits up, his mouth coated in my blood, his release covering the sheets, his eyes wild, unashamed of his carnal desires.
He came from eating me out. I quiver with the knowledge, almost wishing he didn’t so he could fuck me to sate the already-building warmth rushing to my core.
Except that is a foolish wish, dangerous, deadly.
He can’t fuck me. That would be an even heavier weight than my Darling.
My attention pulls away from his cum-soaked sheets and directs to a much more interesting source.
If I was afraid of him fucking me before, I’m even more terrified now.
He’s massive, already half-cocked. It’s dark so I can’t make out the details.
I wonder if he’s covered in the scales that mark the rest of his body.
I only get the chance at a glimpse before he crawls over me, wrapping his arms around my middle and burying his head into my abdomen.
“Please forgive me,” he begs into the fabric of Peter’s shirt. One hand paws at me, attempting to pull me closer, squeezing me almost too tightly.
I run my palm down his hair, shushing him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
The tightness in his chest releases and he breathes evenly, nose still buried in my stomach.
It dawns on me again that I’m soothing him, as if I’m a mother he’s never had. Not a mother though, that’s fucked up after what he just did to me, but I can’t help but recall Rosalia’s words. Perhaps seducing him to set me free isn’t such a far off idea.
“Rourke.”
He looks up to me, one slitted gold eye, and the other deep mahogany, both full of admiration, full of desire. Desperate. Beautiful. Gut-wrenching. I find my words. “Please, let me go.”
The awe disperses from his expression. A line pinches between his brows and horror swims through his pupils.
“I can’t. You can’t leave me.” His voice is panicked, low and gruff.
He squeezes me with one hand and his hook digs into me slightly.
Okay, fuck seduction. He’s too far gone.
I don’t think he realizes he’s hurting me, which is even more terrifying.
“Okay, nevermind. I’m not going anywhere.” I continue to stroke his scalp.
He releases his python grip, breathing deeply against me with relief.
I don’t ask any more questions. I don’t move.
I wait until his breath evens and his body heavies in his slumber.
Slowly, I crawl out from underneath him, tiptoeing to the door.
I take one last look before I slip into the hallway.
The moonlight covers him. My peaceful monster—a link in my chains, tightening around my heart.