31. Shemaiah
SHEMAIAH
Ihold Pippa’s hand as we walk back to our room, working hard to control the urge to drag her down the hall. Goddess, I want to shove her against the wall right here, but the anticipation is its own kind of hunt, and I relish it.
Licking my teeth, I inhale her sweet scent.
My mouth waters. The air between us sparks like the electric lights in the hall.
My cock pushes against the seam of my pants, eager to break free.
Tonight it won’t just be Pippa’s blood I taste.
I squeeze her hand and speed up. We’re still too far from the room.
“Shemaiah.” The strain in Pippa’s voice has me stopping in my tracks.
She’s flushed and breathing hard.
Fuck, I was pushing her too fast.
“Kiss me, Shemaiah.” She runs a hand up over her bodice, then reaches out to touch me. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”
Oh! It’s not fatigue. It’s arousal. And, goddess, it smells good.
I groan at the lustful gaze in my sweet Pippa’s eyes. Without a single drop of venom, she’s already so perfectly needy for me.
I lean toward her and press my face into the crook of her neck. “I’m not going to claim you in a dank airship hallway, Mrs. Roan. The first time my cock is in your sweet cunt, you’re going to be spread out on a bed where I can savor you for hours.”
She shivers, and I smile before pressing my lips to her hot skin. “Do you like that idea, wife?”
Pippa wraps her arms around my neck. “Kiss me, Shemaiah.”
“So impatient.”
Her hands run over my shoulders, across my chest. “I’m tired of patience and control and questioning every decision. I want to live my life while I can. I want to be daring and brave. I don’t want to wait.” She presses herself against me. “Touch me, Shemaiah.”
Walking her backward, my fangs break free, puncturing my bottom lip. I press her back against the wall, and Pippa gasps as I drag the sharp points along her neck, not hard enough to break the skin and give me what I want, but enough to make her tremble. “Is touch all you want, wife?”
Goddess, I love calling her that.
She shakes her head.
“I’m going to give you what you need, but then, you’re going to let me take my time with you.” I lower to my knees and take hold of the hem of her skirt. Her breath hitches. She looks down the hall in one direction, and then the other, biting her lower lip.
I chuckle. “Having second thoughts?”
“You’ll hear if anyone comes?”
“Yes.” I touch her ankle and drag my hand up her calf to the back of her knee. “I can stop if anyone’s coming. Unless you want me to keep going. We could give them quite a show.”
“No.” Pippa shakes her head. “Just us.”
I smile, then duck under her skirts, letting the fabric fall over my shoulders. The scent of her arousal is stronger here, nearly knocking me over, so good, so sweet. I barely scent the illness—maybe not at all. I drag my teeth up her thigh above her stocking and moan against her bare skin.
“Shemaiah.” There’s a lovely quiver in her voice.
I want to keep teasing, but she needs me, and I can’t deny her. With the sharp tip of my claw, I rend the seam of her bloomers, opening a perfect window to my desire. It’s dark under her skirts, but with my Mavarri eyesight I can see each dewy curl of hair and her plump, swollen lips.
I spread the fabric of her bloomers wider and drag one finger through her soft center. She’s dripping for me.
“Maiah,” she whimpers. “Hurry.”
Apparently, my impatient wife likes the thrill of potentially getting caught. Perhaps I should drag this out after all. I grin as I remove my hand from her and scrape my nails lightly up and down the outside of her thigh.
My sweet little Pippa presses the back of my head, shoving my face against her and eliciting a surprised laugh from me.
“Alright.” I kiss her mound, breath stirring the soft hairs. “I get the idea.”
Adjusting her right leg over my shoulder, I open her wide.
She wobbles, but I press my hand to her hip.
Once she’s steady, I glide my hands around her backside to knead the flesh of her thigh and hold her against me as I lap her center.
She tastes so fucking good, the musk of her arousal a perfect complement to the sweet lemon tartness of her natural essence. I can’t contain my growl.
Her body trembles, she pants, her fingers biting my neck, and her taste shifts, the sweetest fucking heaven.
My fangs ache to bite into the soft flesh of her mound to drink her blood along with her arousal, but I hold myself back, squeezing her ass hard to control myself, my claws unsheathed like my fangs.
I don’t want our first time together to be diluted by venom.
When I sink my cock into her, I want her to be clear-headed, to feel every inch, to remember every second.
Keeping my licks steady, I retract my claw and push one finger inside her, applying firm pressure on her upper wall.
She squirms, whimpering in a way that nearly undoes me.
Her right leg tenses, pushing against the side of my head as if she’s trying to squeeze her legs together.
Her insides clench so hard around my finger I feel it around my cock.
With a sharp gasp, she gushes into my mouth.
I’m more than satisfied with the feast before me, even better than her blood.
I could happily live off of Pippa’s arousal.
I slow my attentive licks, savoring her as she goes limp and sinks against the wall. Satisfied pride swells my chest. I lower her leg back to the ground and remove myself from her skirts, standing as I swipe a hand across my face.
Her eyes are closed, and she looks completely satisfied, content, satiated.
I press myself against her and kiss behind her ear. “Is that what you wanted, wife?”
“Mmhmm,” she mumbles, nearly incoherent. “Exactly.”
I smile against her skin, then scoop her into my arms.
She’s not startled or surprised, no doubt used to how often I carry her. For months I told myself it was just because she was weak and needed the help. But I recognize now I just like having her in my arms. It feels right.
Pippa draws little shapes over my chest as I walk, circling the buttons on my shirt, tugging at my cravat, loosening it. Her eyes are still closed, her movements languid, almost as if she’s unconscious she’s doing them.
As much as I want to bury myself inside her, she should rest. I sigh and kiss her cheek. Tomorrow, then.
It takes a little maneuvering to keep her in my arms while I unlock our room, which makes Pippa open her eyes and giggle. “You can put me down.”
“I don’t want to.”
That earns me a wide smile.
Once in the room, I reluctantly set her on the bed.
“Join me?” She runs her palms down my chest.
“Give me a moment.” I move to my knees again to untie the laces on her little heeled boots. “Let me take care of you.”
Pippa lays back with a yawn, and I’m reminded of a contented cat. She lets me remove her shoes, pointing her toes with a cute little laugh.
“I could get used to this,” she says.
“I want you to.” The stark truth of the statement hits me right in the chest. After what she’s been through, I want to show her how she deserves to be loved. I want to protect her, cherish her, take care of her, and lavish her with my affection.
Slowly, I push her dress up her thighs. Pippa lifts her head.
I meet her gaze and unclip her stockings, then roll one down over her knee, setting her foot on my shoulder as I do.
Pulling the silky fabric from her feet, I unceremoniously drop it on the floor, then run my palm over her bare skin, relishing her shudder and every pleasurable sigh before I take care of the second stocking.
Though undressing her like this doesn’t have the same tension it would have if I knew it was leading to sex, there’s an intimacy to the act that feels erotic in its own way.
After kissing the inside of her knee, I remove her feet from my shoulders. She lets out a little moan when I take her torn bloomers and the garter belt at her waist and ease them down her legs. The urge to eat her again has me swallowing and licking my lips to remind myself of the lingering taste.
Putting distance between me and temptation, I stand and stare down at her. She’s beautiful with her bare legs spread and dress bunched at her waist. So relaxed, so content, so vulnerable. I want to hold on to this image of her forever.
“Roll over,” I say, voice thick.
Her eyes rove up from the obvious tent in my pants until she meets my gaze, brows pulled down.
“So I can undo the buttons on your dress,” I explain.
“Oh.” She sits up, making to stand.
“No.” I press a palm to the center of her chest and push her back to the bed. “Rest.”
Her nose wrinkles, and she opens her mouth as if to argue, but yawns. I smile. She huffs and rolls onto her belly.
With my knees straddling her legs, I push the dress higher, dragging my palms across the silk of her skin.
She lifts into my touch. I hesitate for a moment, my desire flaring bright inside me.
Then I push the fabric over her ass, revealing her cleft, the perky, beautiful orbs of muscle and skin.
I palm her for just a heartbeat before straddling her backside and methodically setting to work unbuttoning her dress.
Every few buttons, I stop and press a gentle kiss to her spine, reveling in the way she sighs at the simple touch.
The last few buttons trail over her ass.
I kiss her after each one. Cock throbbing, fangs extended, but my hearts calm and relaxed.
There will be time for everything I want to do to her.
I rear back. No, there won’t be. There might never be enough time to do everything I want to do with Pippa. My hearts sputter, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Are you alright?” she asks, as in tune with my subtle emotional shifts as I am with her scent. She rolls over, twisting in the dress so that it’s now stuck around her waist, her tight little breasts finally revealed.