Chapter 34
The needy way she calls my name makes me eager for more.
Once she accepted my challenge to show me where it hurt, I was gone.
All rational thought disappears. I need more.
More of her panting breaths. More of her surrender.
I glance down at her tattoo. It was seeing her blood weeping through the small wounds to her skin that sparked my bloodlust. The sight of the dark ink mixing with the crimson that did something to me, feeding the greed inside me to hear her come with my name in her mouth, and now I can’t stop.
She hasn’t come down from her orgasm yet, but I want to see it again.
She blinks, eyes hazy, pupils blown wide. I slow down my fingers, and she whimpers when I thumb her sensitive tissue.
“I can’t—”
“Can’t what, Countess?”
“I don’t think I can orgasm again.” Her whisper is fearful, confused, and it makes me savagely happy. That fucker she was dating never got her to this point. Good. Her annihilation belongs to me.
“Hmmm. You will, Countess. You will come again and it will be on my tongue this time.” I pull my knife out of my pocket and flick open the switchblade.
She opens her eyes, chest heaving. She watches me slide the blade under the elastic of her underwear, cutting away at the green fabric.
I peel it back, like wrapping paper, revealing the mound of her pussy.
It is beautifully plump. Covered in a sparse layer of hair.
I need a taste. Just a little to feed the savage inside me.
She moves her hand to cover her pussy, and I growl. “Move your fucking hand right now.”
There’s a little stubble on her pussy lips, and I want to experience every inch of it, of her.
“But I— I didn’t—wax—”
“I don’t give a shit about hair on a pussy, Countess.”
I lean forward and run my nose along the surface, flicking my tongue up one puffy lip.
The rough prickles of hair against my tongue turn me on even more.
She’s raw and feminine like this. I push my gloved fingers back inside her.
I can feel her heat beneath the latex, and I regret not taking them off, but it’s better this way.
As if this thin barrier makes what I’m doing better.
She’s a paying customer, the much younger sister of a man I feel loyal to for all that he’s done for my family, but right now, I don’t give a fuck.
Stalking is not enough, not anymore. It’s a lukewarm stand-in for what I really want.
My blood is burning hot, and I’m not giving this up.
I can have this. Just this. This one time.
As soon as I think it, I hate that idea. I don’t want another set of limits. I want to pull down her pretty bra and suck her nipples. I need to see what color they are. To spend all day discovering the secrets of her body. She grips the seat, staring down at between her legs.
I push her legs open wider, trailing my wet fingers along the skin of her inner thighs.
So much of her body is unblemished, a blank canvas.
I rip the kinesthetic tape away, and other than a slight jerk, she doesn’t say a word about the pain.
Her skin is irritated, and I smooth the reddened mark, liking the contrast against her milky skin.
She bites her lips when I do it. She likes it.
An image of me taping her wrists, her mouth, and her ankles while she rests on my bed, splayed open, moaning while I eat her pussy comes to mind.
I push her legs back. “Hold them open.”
She lets go of the seat. Half-moon marks from her nails are embedded in the black leather. She shakily grips the hollow behind her knees and opens her legs, positioning them back until the front of her thighs touch her chest.
Gorgeous pink lips flare open, and everything in me focuses on the moist lips, that shadowed crevice that I want to devour.
My mouth is on her seconds later, slurping my tongue inside, gorging myself on her taste.
Lifting my head, I lick my lips and go back to teasing her with the tattoo gun, not letting up.
She mewls, crying out my name. I almost purr at her pleas.
I tap her pussy with the end of the machine, loving how the buzzing sounds mingle with the wet noises coming from between her legs.
“Fucking brat. Walking in here to test me, wearing your short slutty skirt. Teasing me. Tempting me with this wet pussy.”
Emerald eyes hold mine. “What about you?” She pants, her pink lips shiny with saliva. “You come into my gallery. Wearing your slutty, tight T-shirts, and tight jeans. What about the way you touch me and walk away. If I’m a tease then so are you.”
She’s right and I grit my teeth. I was teasing her, tempting her, wanting to push her.
I lift the gun and slap at her pussy. She screams my name, rearing up, eyes wide, face flushed, before she flops back on the seat, moaning.
Her face is a sweaty mess, her hair sticking to her damp neck.
I want to taste it, taste the reaction her body is having to my actions.
I want her covered in sweat because of me.
I do it again, delivering another stinging slap right over her clit.
Her clit is becoming redder, more inflamed, and I groan before placing the vibrating handle back over the distended tissue. She curses and flails on the seat.
“You like my punishment?” I croon, leaning forward to lick her. Scorching heat meets my tongue, and I suck gently, wanting to soothe her, to add pleasure to her pain.
“Please.” Camryn’s request feeds the darkness in me.
My fingers itch to turn the tattoo gun around.
To put the needle to her clit. Tattoo mine right over the bead of sensitive flesh.
Her pain would be unimaginable. She’s scream, cry out for me to stop and I wouldn’t.
I know about the pain. My cock too over a year to heal from my piercings and tattoos.
She would take months to heal, but the sick, depraved part of me wouldn’t mind helping her.
Soothing her pain each day with my tongue.
I say my thoughts aloud, letting my sick twisted thoughts fly free.
“I should mark your pussy with my name. Right on your clit,” I reply, watching her inner pink lips flush and get even darker.
“Tie your ass to my chair, fuck you with my dick while I mark you with my gun.” I inhale her scent.
The earthy scent combines with something sweeter, more floral.
Her pussy and honeysuckle. I push my fingers back inside her, not waiting for her response to my urges.
She begs again. “I need to come, Stone.”
I put the end of the gun back, pressing on her clit harder than before. She lifts her hips in time with my hand, chasing the pleasure. The seat is getting wetter. My cock gets harder.
“You’ll come when I want you to.” I bend and nip her inner thigh, sinking my teeth into her skin before sucking vigorously, drawing the blood from the broken vessels beneath her skin to the surface.
The pinch makes her jump, and she moans, leaning up on her elbows to look up at me, even as she rocks her pussy on my fingers.
She grabs my short hair. The strands are not enough to thread her fingers through.
Instead, her nails dig into my scalp. Painful little injuries that fuel the arousal battering at me.
Her nails move over my skull, trying to push my mouth deeper inside her.
Her movements are unrestrained, manic in their desperation.
I growl deeply, loving the moment two of her nails dig into my neck.
They score my skin, and I can’t fucking wait to see the long pink lines.
I hope she breaks the skin. I hope they bleed.
I bite her again and suck, knowing it will leave a mark.
I want it to be dark. The darkest bruise I can make.
I want it to take weeks to heal. Weeks of her seeing the contusion I gave her when she opens her legs.
I lift my head, staring at the destruction I left behind.
“My tattoo is already on you permanently. But this one?” I lick the rapidly forming bruise slowly, covering it with more of my saliva. “This one is for me.”