Chapter 31 #3
My hands were shaking as I lowered myself onto him, feeling first the nudge of his blunt crown at my entrance, then the white-hot pressure as he broke through, stretching me apart.
A gasp escaped me as he entered, my slippery wetness coating his shaft. All of him, all the way through—he came right up to the edge of pain, my body aching from the girth, and Wroth’s low growl of satisfaction ended with a hitched breath.
I wriggled, bouncing my hips forward and wincing as I went too far, too fast, and Wroth gripped me to hold me still.
“Easy,” he whispered. His voice was always deep, a low bass rumble, but now it was positively gravelly with suppressed need. “This is not about haste.”
He drew out a little, then pushed back in a little at a time, until his cock was so slick it glided in, filling all the empty space inside me. Heat roiled in my core, my legs quivering with every tiny thrust.
I deliberately clenched my muscles, straining against the thick shaft, and Wroth rumbled.
Then I felt it: the pressure intensifying, the knot swelling deep behind my pelvis, tying him to me.
I’d thought my body couldn’t be pushed any further. I was already at the edge of strain, where pleasure began to shade into the grays of pain.
The force increased, and I looked down where we became one, my folds stretched and glistening around his fullness, the slightest bulge in my lower belly from the knot distending inside me.
“Breathe.” He kissed me, tongue tracing the outline of my lips.
I obeyed, my interior muscles clamping and seizing around the massive invasion, focusing only on the glide of his lips over mine, the silky-roughness of lips and tongue and the sharp points of fangs.
Teasing and playing, my body began to relax, adapting to the pressure and flooding him with wetness.
He arched his hips, rocking upwards. His cock stroked my channel, the knot’s slight friction sending a frisson right through my core.
Straddling him face to face, tied down to the base of his shaft, the hard muscles of his abdomen rubbed at my clit with every stroke, a peak of liquid bliss with every movement.
A smoldering kiss accompanied the thrust of his hips; for each spike of pleasure, there was a nip of pain as a fang or claw caught my delicate flesh.
He was as gentle as he could be, but he was still a fiend, and there was no intimacy without danger. I knew this and accepted it, even craved it.
The rocking of my hips increased, my wetness coating his heavy sac, my breath speeding up and heart racing. Every surge was a wave, bringing me closer to igniting into heavenly heat.
“Let me taste you,” he demanded, and I tipped my head to offer myself, still riding hard on the edge of the inferno.
He was near the edge of self-control, a feverish edge as he added another set of tiny silver stars to my throat. The venom coursed through me as he drank, swallowing hot blood and grunting as he thrust deeper and deeper.
He licked the wound closed, panting, teeth stained like rubies as his hips pumped with near-violence. I braced my hands on his shoulders, moaning as his tongue lapped at my nipples, and then Wroth brought a hand to his throat.
His claw nicked his skin, and a drop of crimson welled like a red rose against a snowfield. “Drink from me. You’re my wife now, in all ways that matter, and from this moment, you will live forever at my side.”
The venom hadn’t fully carried me away, only added a fuzzy edge to reality, a melting sensation in my core. I was fully aware as I brought my lips to Wroth’s neck, and drank of the fiend’s blood. My husband’s blood.
Dark and iron-tinged, with an edge of spice. I was reminded inexplicably of the Vale brandy, the warmth that stung the mouth and burst into flames in my stomach.
I took a mouthful of rich, dark blood and swallowed, taking him into me.
Drunk on blood and venom and happiness, I leaned into him for a scarlet kiss. Every inch of my body was focused on the pounding heat of his cock, all wet friction and pressure, splitting me apart and holding me together.
I ground my hips into him, hands running over the hard muscle beneath silky hair, and he gave a powerful thrust, knot throbbing.
Without warning the inferno in me exploded. Dissolving into heavy, arrhythmic bucking, screaming into his chest, the climax was like being swept away, my mind blasted into pure darkness.
Wroth’s groan pulled me back, his cock pulsing against my sensitive core as he flipped us over. My body shuddered beneath his pumping hips until he drove in deep, back arching, rumbling with pleasure.
The deluge of heat ate up all other sensations. Wroth’s knot was a firm pressure, my muscles milking every last drop out of him. His come flooded me, trickling out around his shaft with the last few thrusts.
He finally exhaled, spent, his cock still knotted inside me. Slowly, Wroth lowered himself to the ground, rolling over and pulling me on top of him.
He’d thought of it all beforehand; he took the blanket, folded at the top of the bedroll, and spread it over us so I wasn’t naked before the world while he was still tied to me.
I dozed on his chest, wantonly indulging in the slick wetness between my thighs and the knot locked deep within me, the sensation of his heartbeat under my cheek and within my core.
He stroked his fingers through my hair, both of us content to drowse together, time slipping by as the fire burned down to darkness.
Until a thought shimmered up through my hazy mind, and I smiled. “No pearls for me today?” I murmured.
His body shook with a silent laugh. “Don’t underestimate me, love. As soon as we’re home, I’ll give you all the pearls you could ask for, and then some.”
“Good.” I traced a little heart in his fine, short fur with my fingertip. “I still want a wedding, you know.”
Wroth lifted his head enough to squint at me. “Of course there will be a wedding.”
“You told me we’re husband and wife in all the ways that matter.” I raised a brow, propping my chin on my fist. “I thought…”
Wroth gently tapped my nose, as I had once done to him.
“Ridiculous menace, thinking I would deny you a proper ceremony of vows. We’ll exchange our blood and devotion in the Bloodgarden, and all of my kind will recognize you as one of us.
Not as my thrall, not entirely, but as my lawfully-wedded vampire wife. ”
“So long as I don’t have to become a vampire. I like being human.”
“You will be,” he promised. “To drink of my blood does not make you a vampire. You will be human in all ways, and only age again if you choose not to drink of me. It is for legality’s sake that you must remain human.”
“Damn those legalities,” I sighed. They had caused so much heartache.
“They work for me, in this case.” Wroth fondled a lock of my hair, wrapping it around his finger. “I like you as a human, too. So fragile, so puny, yet so full of heart.”
“Ah, yes, mock the human.”
He shifted under me, and I felt the hard bulge in my core finally soften. Moving slowly, he slipped free inch by inch, rolling over to hold me against his side. The trace of his fingers over my abdomen and breast spoke of rising lust, evidenced by the fresh stirring of his cock against my thigh.
“Ooh, will you take me again, Lord Wroth?” I asked, stretching and pointing my toes, and his claws flickered over my hip. “So soon? Don’t wear out this fragile, puny human. Surely I couldn’t handle it.”
He smirked, fangs glistening in the dark, but his expression became serious as he looked at me. My heart jumped, thinking of the last time he had looked at me that way.
“Do I still set your world awry?” I asked softly, reaching up to stroke a lock of mane out of his face.
He gazed at me, eyes flickering like ice and starlight. “No. You have set it right.”
And we proved it again, right there under the stars.