Chapter 21 #2
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she mumbles against my skin. “I don’t know if I can let you soothe me with your words and your touch. I don’t know if I should trust you. I don’t know if I can open myself up to you, all the while knowing that you’ll only hurt me again.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I pause, dragging in another breath. “Just tell me to leave, and I’ll leave.”
“I should,” she whispers. “But…” Her chest heaves as she presses another kiss against my cut. “But I don’t want you to.” She tongues the cut, the wet warmth going straight to my cock.
“If you keep doing that, I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist you.”
“Then don’t,” she mutters, melting against me.
“Edie,” I warn, desperate to take her, to indulge in her soft curves, her scent, her fucking everything. If I can do that without wanting to feed off her, if I can do that without feeling, then perhaps I can keep both her and my clan safe.
“Isn’t this what you want?” she asks, her tongue slipping up the side of my neck, her teeth gently tugging on the lobe of my ear.
“You know it is.”
“Then just for tonight, I’m going to take what I want.”
“Are you certain?” I ask, caution in my voice.
“You might not be able to give me what I need emotionally, but I know you can give me what I want physically, and you are going to apologise with your lips, your mouth, and your cock. Then I will decide what happens next.”
“I can do that,” I say.
“Then get on your knees.” Edie takes a step back and points to the floor.
“You want me to get on my knees?”
“Did I stutter?” She places a hand on her hip, her fierce gaze making me fucking weak for her.
I take my time, easing to my knees, revelling in how Edie has accomplished something no one has done before. She takes another few steps back, her chest heaving as she licks her lips.
“Now crawl to me.”
A wicked smile pulls up my lips as my hands press against the floor, and I crawl to her, enjoying the look of satisfaction on her face, and the power in her stance.
When I reach her, I press my nose and lips against her thigh before slowly dragging upwards.
When I reach the apex of her thighs, I draw in a deep breath.
“How wet are you?”
She drops her hand to my head, fingers curling in the strands, as she tugs my head back. “Why don’t you find out? Take me, Dorian.”
“A-fucking-men to that,” I growl, then in one smooth motion, climb to my feet, grip her waist and lift her off the floor.
She wraps her legs around me, her hands cupping the back of my head as she slams her mouth against mine, fusing our lips together.
Our kiss is an electric current that sparks between us, her tongue lashing against mine, charged with desperation and need.
I sway on my feet drunkenly, the sharp metallic tang of my blood bursting across my tastebuds as I stumble towards her bed, throwing her onto the mattress.
Her gasp is quickly drowned out by my body smothering hers, as I grind my cock between her parted legs and kiss her with just as much hunger.
It’s sloppy and wet, uncontrolled, just like her hands.
They’re everywhere, in my hair, grasping my arse, cupping my cheeks, sliding down my chest. When her fingers slip beneath my boxers, I reach for her wrist, tutting.
“No, Edie,” I pant, my lips brushing against hers as I ease upright, her hand slipping from my boxers.
“I want you inside of me, Dorian,” she whines, biting on her bottom lip that’s swollen and pink from our kiss.
“Not before you come first,” I say, my fingers pulling down the waistband of her pyjama bottoms a little before I ease up her top.
In languid strokes, I tease her, my fingers circling her belly button.
I take my time, revelling in the softness of her skin, loving how it erupts in goosebumps just like it did the night I watched her pleasure herself in her sleep.
When my fingers trail across her lower belly, I feel something smooth, something unnatural stuck to her skin. I pause.
“What’s this?” I ask, stroking my thumb across the small, shiny square patch.
“It’s a transdermal hormone patch,” she replies. “It releases hormones into my bloodstream to treat the symptoms of perimenopause. It was hard at first, dealing with the symptoms. Brutal, actually, but this helps. Does that bother you?”
“If it helps you, why would it bother me?”
“Because it means my body is changing, that it’s more and more unlikely I’m capable of having children. Though there’s still a chance I could get pregnant, given I’m still getting periods, no matter how irregular they are. Do you have a condom?”
“I can’t have children, Edie. It’s physically impossible for me.”
“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
“I made peace with it years ago,” I say, letting my hand rest on her belly, my fingers sinking into her softness.
“I love your stomach,” I add, my hands wandering to the generous curves of her hips.
My cock thickens and lengthens, tingling with another rush of blood.
“You’re so soft, so feminine. I want to paint your stomach with my cum. ”
“Don’t you dare,” she scowls, reaching up, her fingers curling around the chain dangling between my nipples. She tugs, drawing me closer, lifting her lips to mine, kissing me gently. “I want you inside of me when you do.”
“Fuck,” I exclaim, the sharp bite of pain quickly overtaken by the zing of electricity scattering down my spine, pre-cum spills from my slit and dribbles down my length.
“You shouldn’t have a chain if you didn’t want me to pull on it,” she sasses, her grin dropping when I grip her wrists and pin them above her head.
“Don’t make me tie you up, Edie,” I warn, stirring up that despicable part of me who wants her submission as much as I desire her dominance.
“I think, perhaps, it’s you who needs tying up,” she replies, her chin tilting towards the chair in the corner of her room where her bath robe is lying across the seat.
“Edie…” I begin, but my voice trails off as she pushes upright, meeting me chest to chest.
“This isn’t going to play out on your terms, Dorian. I’m in control.”
“Then do it,” I say, lifting off of her as she slides out from beneath me and climbs off the bed. She grabs her robe, pulling the belt free. “Will you submit to me, Dorian?” she asks, as I lie back on the bed, already grasping the rungs of her headboard.
For anyone else, no. For her, fuck, yes.
“Edie, where have you been hiding?” I say instead, my fingers curling around the rungs as she places the belt on the bed and unbuttons her pyjama top.
“In a marriage to a man who couldn’t give a damn about me or my needs,” she replies, her heated gaze roving over my body. She pauses, her chest rising and falling.
I want to launch myself at her and rip her clothes from her skin, but I don’t. I force myself to wait, to give her the time and the space to do this her way. When she shrugs out of her top, the tips of her long hair graze her nipples and I exhale slowly.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have perfect breasts?”
“Never. At least not before you.”
“They would look so beautiful pierced, with a delicate chain hanging between them.”
“Maybe one day I’ll do that,” she replies, cupping them, her thumbs trailing over her nipples.
“If you decide you want to, I’ll be the one to do it. No one gets to touch you, man or woman. Now, show me the rest of your beautiful body. I want to see you, Edie. All of you,” I command, my voice rough.
A flush of pink surfaces beneath her chest, rising up her neck before spreading out across her cheeks, darkening them further.
“No one has ever looked at me the way you do,” she admits, a slice of vulnerability shadowing her features as she rolls down her pyjama bottoms.
Affection rises within me, and I feel the sharp pinch of the tattoo around my neck tightening.
I strangle the feeling, locking it away, and the noose releases its grip.
Letting out a shuddering breath, I drink in her beautiful body as she stands before me completely naked, my gaze roaming over her dips and curves, lingering on the strip of dark hair between her legs before gliding back upwards.
“Does it turn you on knowing how much I want you?”
“Yes,” she breathes, stepping out of the material before picking up the belt.
“Come here, Edie,” I command, my voice hoarse.
“Say please,” she insists.
“Please, Edie. Come here.”
She crawls up my body, her beautiful breasts swaying beneath her.
My gaze trails to the soft curve of her stomach, then her thick thighs as she straddles my chest. Twining the belt around my wrists, she ties my hands to the headboard, and I’m rewarded with the pink slit of her pussy mere inches from my face.
I can’t help it, I lift upwards, pressing a kiss against her mound just above a line of soft curls, then breathe in the sweet, musky scent of her desire.
She gasps, her gaze meeting mine as I stare up at her.
A wicked smile pulls up my lips as I lick her seam, circling her clit. She moans, her body jolting against my mouth.
“You smell and taste fucking divine. Now, turn around and sit on my face. Let me feast on you.”
“I might suffocate you,” she protests.
“Believe me, there are worse ways to die,” I counter. “Now sit.”
“You have a wicked mouth, Dorian Crow.”
“There are lots of things about me that are wicked,” I mutter against her thigh, licking and sucking on her skin. “But you know that already. Now turn around.”
“Like this?” she whispers, shifting position as she follows my command. Yet she still hovers above me, the curve of her arse, the thickness of her thighs, and her pussy beautiful to behold.
“Exactly like that,” I say. “Now lean forward and put your hands on my thighs, then sit. I’ll do the rest.”