Feast #2
Heat ripped through me. Fear and excitement braided together and danced across my prickling skin, sending my senses into a fiery frenzy.
Was he hoping I would be the strong one this time? One of us usually was. But his strength had fled as soon as he’d caught my scent and mine was fraying by the second. Hearing his words and knowing he wanted me was more intoxicating than Bromport wine.
My already throbbing center only elevated when Dommik dropped to his knees in front of me, as if in worship. Any response I considered died in an attempt to cross the vast desert that now occupied my throat. But he had no problem filling the silence.
“If you were mine, you’d be forbidden to wear any clothes at all during your bleed.
” He placed his hands on the stone, framing my hips, bringing the tip of his nose to the fabric of the pants, and inhaling like he was appreciating fresh cut flowers.
“And I would feast on and savor you like your courses were a forest stream and I’d been wandering for weeks without a drop to drink. ”
He wouldn’t. Maybe some of these other deprived residents of the Northern Hive would. But not Dommik. He wouldn’t do anything to me. Not without my permission.
My heart pounded erratically as I imagined the sensation of Dommik’s tongue exploring and lapping at the most sensitive depths of me. I wanted to unbutton the slacks for him, place a bare leg on his shoulder, send my head backward, and welcome the pleasure.
I closed my eyes and barely gasped. “No. You shouldn’t.”
What was wrong with me?
I am Rhazien’s. Right? Am I Rhazien’s? Did I still want to be Rhazien’s?
Or had I only wanted to be Rhazien’s because I was so convinced I couldn’t be Dommik’s?
“Just a drop.” He panted. I reached down, grabbing his dark locks in protest, pausing him only briefly. Thinking to myself, absolutely not and please yes all at once.
Both of my hands gripped his dark, wavy locks, and devious blue eyes stared up at me in question.
“You’re better than this,” I said to myself just as much as him.
His head shook beneath my grip. “I’m just a monster from the Northern Hive. Slave to my nature like anyone else in that ballroom.”
I felt like a slave to my nature as well. My blood ran hot and my pulse thundered in my ears.
“Touch yourself.” His whisper was almost a whine. “Slide your fingers down your center and feed me.”
I considered his words as my body screamed for the touch. Silently, I removed one hand from his head and slowly dipped my hand beneath the waistband.
“That’s it,” he rasped, leaning forward impatiently.
“Wait.” I pulled his head back, away from the fabric. He hissed before letting out an amused chuckle. He liked this, me being in control. Heat licked up my spine at the utter power he let me wield over him.
I dipped my fingers into my body, primed for everything I wanted to do but wasn’t allowed to have.
I gasped as I lingered over my swollen bud, dragging out the sensation by passing over it again, and again.
Dommik smiled a fang-filled grin. He watched me with his predatory gaze as he licked his canines.
When I removed my fingers, they were covered in my blood and Dommik angled himself beneath me, ready to catch the liquid.
I slowly lowered them, inch by inch, until they met his waiting mouth. His lips wrapped around my fingers and a satisfied hum vibrated up my arm. His tongue darted over every inch of my blood-covered skin and when it forced its way between my two fingers to get what lingered there, I unraveled.
“Feast, Dommik,” I commanded.
Surprise, delight, hesitation flashed across dark pupils like falling stars.
“I want you to,” I assured him. “Please.”
Fabric scraped against stone as Dommik eliminated any space between him, me, and the wall. His head moved slowly, eyes watching as if waiting for me to change my mind. But I just nodded.
The tip of Dommik’s wicked tongue ran the length of his borrowed pants, from my wanting entrance to my swollen bundle of nerves. The blood from my cycle made the fabric stick to my heated, sensitive skin.
More. I needed more. I let out a small gasp and he growled into the fabric.
Fuck. That felt better than I thought it would.
Dommik sent his tongue between my thighs again and moved his hands to my hips, pinning them in place. My hands, instead of holding his head at bay, guided him in his task.
Pushing, lifting, encouraging.
One moment I thought, we shouldn’t be doing this and we’ll be killed if we’re caught. Only to be followed by yes, more of that and fuck, never let this end.
But I only breathed, sending silent prayers upwards as I took fading glances at the stony ceiling between pleasure induced eye rolls.
“Dommik,” I panted.
“That’s it, lovely,” he commanded from his knees between strokes. “You make my name sound like a prayer.”
I was praying. Praying for more sinful friction. Praying he would never stop. Praying this would never end.
An entire religion could be built around Dommik’s tongue and what it did over the fabric as it licked and enjoyed what, for my entire adult life, I’d found to be a disgusting nuisance.
His head and hands guided my hips with the rhythm, giving him access not just to the blood between my legs, but the sensitive bud at the apex of my center.
“Dommik,” I stuttered again as my orgasm built.
A lightning bolt of release ripped through me. His growls vibrated across my skin, savoring his meal of my natural blood and juices that followed the throbbing waves from my core.
His tongue knew just what to do to encourage the pleasure to linger there.
My own throbbing pushed back against his greedy mouth, our bodies finishing a primal conversation.
He pressed and sucked, until I begged him to free me from his dominating grasp.
The sensation had become uncomfortable from his loitering pressure. And he obliged.
When I finally formed the words, “No more,” and tapped his shoulder in surrender, he stopped.
Dommik pulled his head away and slowly stood in front of me. The unmistakable metallic scent of fresh blood coated his lips and breath.
I could barely look at him, my eyes heavy from the pulsing fulfillment that moved inch by inch through my bloodstream with each elevated heartbeat.
His hands framed my head. I wanted to return the favor. But from the look in his eyes, he seemed as satiated as me.
“I should go.” He licked at the corner of his lips.
“Go where?” My chest heaved, the exhaustion from pleasure settling into my muscles.
“It’s midnight. Events are in full swing. It’s suspicious if I don’t make an appearance.”
The time was impossible to tell in the windowless depth of the caverns, but if it was truly midnight, I'd have slept in much later than I normally did. By now I had typically wrapped up my lessons with Oddo and was on my way to have midnight lunch before lessons with…
“It won’t be suspicious that you smell like me?” I didn’t know for sure if that’s how it worked.
Dommik shrugged as if he wasn’t worried about it. “There are ways to mask your scent.”
“How?”
“You don’t want to know,” he said, rising to his full height.
In the wake of my receding tide of pleasure, I realized how catastrophic this decision had been. I’d succumb to a fleeting pleasure to stoke my ego and satisfy my curiosity.
Dommik could blame his nature. I had nothing to blame.
I wished there were ways to mask my guilt along with my scent.
“Dommik,” I panted, looking up from his muscled chest to his tender gaze. “This can never happen again. Ever.”
His already small smile fell into a slight frown. His twinkling eyes hardened back into the gaze I recognized from the duty-bound soldier.
“Right,” he said, pushing away from the wall to hunt for a shirt. “Stay here. Alba will bring you everything you need.”
He departed abruptly and as the door closed behind him, I was left there. Alone. With the pulsing reminder of my betrayal.