37. Chapter Thirty-Seven - Thirst Quencher #2
My words seemed to strike something dark and possessive inside him.
I threaded my fingers into his hair and tugged.
Not to hurt him, just to make him pause, to make him see me.
But the sound that left him wasn’t restrained.
It was a moan. Low and guttural in a way that made my heart stutter.
He inhaled sharply, like he was drinking me in, and my pulse hammered against my ribs in a confused, helpless rhythm.
My thoughts scattered, slipping through my fingers as his nose slid higher, gliding from my thigh to the wet heat between my legs.
My body locked as he pressed his face against my pussy through the soaked fabric of my panties, nuzzling into the damp, clinging cotton.
He inhaled again, deep and unashamed, the sound of it making my toes curl tight while the scent of iron and arousal hung heavy in the air.
It pulled a whimper from me because I couldn’t believe he was just going for it.
My hips bucked on their own as my fingers spasmed, one hand gripping the bedframe with white-knuckled desperation while the other stayed tangled in his hair like it was the only thing keeping me from floating away.
My mind screamed at me to stop him, to say something… anything.
But my body didn’t listen. It gave itself over to him completely.
Shit, I didn’t care that he was a stalker. Actually, the thought turned me on so badly I was nearly sent over the edge by it.
His shoulders wedged between my thighs, and his hands slid up my waist, dragging me closer until my legs bent over him. I was too exposed, too open. My cheeks burned with humiliation and heat. The mess of me, the timing of it, being seen like this… All of it should’ve shattered me.
But Culver looked at me like I was sacred.
Then his tongue moved again.
Slow at first, dragging across the blood-dampened fabric and pressing straight against my folds and clit, as if he wanted me to feel every inch of what he was doing.
His mouth worked over it with a devotion that made my breath fracture into shaky, ragged pieces.
My body shivered at the sensation as he pressed the flat of his tongue harder, licking through the barrier like the thin layer between us was nothing at all.
The wet sound of it filled the room, obscene and unmistakable, my hips lifting without permission, chasing the pressure even as my cheeks burned with humiliation and desire.
“Gods, give me strength,” he muttered under his breath, the words torn from him like a plea he didn’t believe would be answered.
His hands slid from my waist, traveling up the curve of my spine as if he needed to feel all of me at once, to memorize the arch of my back beneath his palms. When I glanced down, I caught his eyes on me, glowing neon green in the dim light, lit from somewhere deep and otherworldly.
They looked ancient, beautiful, and terrifying in a way that didn’t feel meant for this world.
My breath hitched hard, my chest tightening as something inside me recognized the truth before my mind was ready to face it.
With a low, feral sound, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and yanked them aside.
Cool air rushed over me, shocking against my slick, heated skin, and I gasped as exposure flooded in.
Blood smeared across my folds, mingling with arousal, leaving me raw and trembling beneath his gaze.
He stared for a beat, his glowing eyes darkening with endless hunger.
Then his mouth descended.
The first sweep of his tongue stole the air from my lungs.
He plunged straight against me, lapping greedily, unashamed, as if he’d been starving for this exact thing.
His tongue moved with long, languid strokes, collecting every bit of warmth and slickness, tasting the metallic tang without hesitation.
When his lips closed around my clit, sucking it between them, my back arched off the bed with a broken cry.
His teeth grazed just enough to make sparks detonate behind my eyes, and then his tongue slid deep inside, fucking into me with precision that made my thighs quake.
“Culv,” I moaned, his name torn from me as my fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer even as my mind reeled.
The intensity was too much, the taboo heat of it short-circuiting every coherent thought.
Shame and desire blurred together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“My little lamb,” he whispered, and it wasn’t teasing. It sounded like a warning wrapped in devotion, something claimed rather than spoken.
His hands spread across my back and then slid back down, cupping my ass, pulling me down until we were nearly fused, my body molded to the shape of his mouth.
His electricity, the scent of iron and longing, the strange sense of peace that seemed to come right before he shattered me…
all of it pressed in at once. His forehead brushed briefly against my hip, and I felt the tremor running through his shoulders, control vibrating through him like a live wire.
“I apologize,” he murmured at last, the words dragged out of him, heavy and reluctant.
My chest tightened painfully, anticipation coiling low in my belly. “For what?”
“You did not give me permission,” he said, his cool breath ghosting over my cunt, making me squirm with need.
I gulped, my body shivering hard because he’d already seen every inch of me from afar before this ever started, and now here he was actually touching me, feeling me with his mouth and hands. I couldn’t help wondering if he was feeling the same desperate rush I was.
My fingers slid into his hair, pulling his face closer to my pussy, my hips already tilting up to meet him. “I’m giving you the green light. Make me feel good,” I murmured, blushing from head to toe, the words spilling out on a trembling breath.
A low, guttural growl ripped from his throat, feral and unrestrained, and before I could process what it meant, I heard fabric tear. My panties were gone, ripped away, leaving me fully exposed to the cool air.