Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
ELLIOTT
“If I have to call every hour to confirm you’re still breathing, I will,” Taylor warns, her voice carrying faintly from the phone pressed to Beatrix’s ear.
She snorts a laugh, adjusting her grip on her phone as she sinks deeper into the nest of pillows on my bed, her legs spread wide and my head buried between them.
“I told you, I’m fine,” she says breathily, her body jerking as I lick a stripe up her seam and circle the tip of my tongue around her clit. Her hips wiggle as she tries to squirm away, but I just press my palms more firmly to her inner thighs, keeping her exactly where I want her.
“Yeah, well make sure Elliott knows James will literally rip his heart out if he hurts you again,” Taylor clucks.
I grunt against Bex’s cunt, and her hips jerk, breath catching.
“I’ll let him know,” she pants.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. Then Taylor’s suspicious voice asks, “Why do you sound weird?”
Beatrix opens her mouth to respond, but I start vibrating my tongue on her clit at inhuman speed before she can get a word out. She slaps a hand over her mouth, pinning the phone between her shoulder and ear as her back arches, eyes rolling back.
“Oh my god,” Taylor gasps, scandalized. “Are you… are you having sex right now?”
“No,” Beatrix manages through a gasping moan.
Her hand fumbles for my hair, tugging on the strands, but I refuse to be deterred. I smile against her, then draw her clit between my lips with a slow, languid suction, making her whole body tremble.
“Jesus, Bex,” Taylor groans. “Can’t you keep it in your pants for two minutes? I was literally just checking to see if you were alive!”
My tongue dives inside her and Beatrix makes a strangled, needy noise, her thighs clamping around my head.
“Bex? Hello?”
I glance up to see her face flushed, her green eyes wild and her mouth open on a silent scream. She’s close. I pull back just enough to make her huff in frustration, mouthing ‘finish the call’.
“I… I gotta go,” she gasps, her grip tightening around the phone. “Talk soon, ‘kay?”
Taylor starts to protest, so I reach up and pluck the phone from Beatrix’s hand, hanging up the call before tossing it onto the nightstand.
“That was rude,” she admonishes, though her voice is husky, eyes clouded with lust.
I lick my lips, savoring the taste of her on my tongue. “It was rude of her to interrupt my breakfast.”
Beatrix opens her mouth– no doubt to fire back some snarky remark– but I simply spread her legs wider and dive back in, sliding two fingers into her already-soaked cunt as I go right back to tonguing her clit.
Her protests dissolve into a moan as she surrenders.
She melts against the pillows, head lolling to the side, dark hair spilling over the satin pillowcase.
It’s truly a thing of beauty to watch Beatrix Hamilton unravel. She’s so damn stubborn, always running her mouth or throwing up shields– but underneath all those sharp edges, she wants nothing more than to lay down her defenses and let me ruin her.
On that, our interests are perfectly aligned.
I suck her clit between my lips again, fucking her with my fingers and relishing every tiny, involuntary reaction I draw out.
When her thighs start to shake and her moans go sharp and desperate, I speed up, giving her exactly what she needs.
Her orgasm builds until it breaks like a summer storm– sudden, loud, and violently beautiful.
She bucks against my face, sobbing my name while I lap up her pleasure, not easing off until she’s ridden it out and the aftershocks fade.
I press a kiss to her mound, then climb up her body, bracing my weight on my forearms over her. Her eyes are glassy, bronze skin practically glowing in the dim light of my bedroom. I lean down to brush my lips against hers, and she grabs my face with both hands, yanking me in for a proper kiss.
“I should be mad at you for hanging up on Taylor,” she murmurs against my mouth, hooking a leg around my hip to trap me against her.
“She’ll live,” I mutter as I gather her wrists in a hand, pinning them to the mattress above her head.
Beatrix relaxes against my hold, her eyes going soft. “We should probably leave this bed at some point,” she sighs.
The corner of my mouth lifts as I hold her gaze. “Not until you come for me again, little mortal.”
I shift my grip on her wrists, guiding her arms up and reaching for the straps installed at the headboard for this exact purpose.
“Eli,” she protests, but her voice has that hungry, electric edge that tells me she’s already surrendered.
It takes a little wrangling, but I get the soft leather cuffs looped around each wrist and fastened snugly.
“Feel okay?” I ask, just to be sure.
She tests the binds, her arms flexing as she tries to pull against them. “I thought you said you don’t bring women in here?” she huffs.
“I don’t,” I reply curtly. “I just like to be prepared.”
Beatrix arches a brow in challenge.
“It’s the truth,” I tell her, running my fingers down her arms, over her ribs, and back down between her legs.
She’s still slick and swollen, her breath catching in her throat when my fingers brush over her sensitive clit.
“I’d never lie to you, Beatrix. There were none before, and there will be none after. Only you.”
She just stares up at me, her pupils blown, chest rising and falling fast. The expression on her face would suggest I’ve said something profound, but I’m merely stating facts. She’s my bonded; my ideal match in every way. She leaves nothing for me to want from anyone else.
I kiss my way down her exquisite body, tracing my tongue over the delicate lines of her tattoos.
When I settle between her legs again, my gaze catches on the pulse point in her inner thigh, lingering there.
Her femoral artery throbs just beneath the surface, the heat of her blood stirring my hunger.
“Go ahead,” she whispers, both an offer and a dare.
I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to, but because I do. Desperately.
“Bite me,” she says, more insistent.
As if summoned by the command, my fangs drop.
She sucks in a breath, the muscles beneath my palm tensing as I lower my mouth to her thigh. I pause there for one final beat, lips hovering over the frantic flutter of her pulse.
Then I bite.
Gently, sinking my fangs in only far enough to pierce the skin, withdrawing the instant I feel it give.
Two perfect beads of crimson well from the punctures, and I seal my mouth over them before they can spill.
Her blood hits my system like a drug, warm and wild and intoxicatingly alive.
Pleasure rolls through me in a low, visceral wave, drawing a groan from my chest.
She tastes divine. Better than anything has a right to taste. And I want more.
The hunger claws at me, demanding I sink my teeth back in and drink until I’ve had my fill, but I refuse to indulge it– mostly because for once, I’m finally in control.
I’d rather work my way up to a full feed than risk harming her again.
I allow myself two languid sips before dragging my tongue slowly over the punctures, sealing them closed while savoring every last taste of her on my tongue.
"That’s it?” she asks.
I glance up.
She’s lifted her head from the pillows to peer down at me, brows drawn together in obvious disappointment.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
Insatiable little thing.
“That was enough to satisfy one appetite,” I murmur, pressing my palms to her inner thighs to spread her wide. “But I’m hungry for something else now.”
“Oh?” she challenges, arching her hips. “I mean, if you insist…”
A chuckle rumbles in my chest as I bury my face between her legs again, tongue circling her clit while I sink two fingers inside her.
She’s still tight and greedy, clenching down on my digits as I pump them in and out, curling them up in the way that makes her swear and whimper every time.
My other hand slips down to stroke her ass, spreading her cheeks apart and running my thumb over the tight ring of muscle there.
Beatrix chokes on a gasp, bucking her hips.
I glance up at her face. “You like that?”
She nods, cheeks flushed bright pink. “Yes,” she pants.
I tease her ass with the tip of my thumb as I continue pumping my fingers in her cunt, sealing my mouth over her clit again.
She writhes and moans, the headboard rattling with every tug of her wrists against her binds.
She’s on the brink of unraveling again– I can feel it in the way her muscles seize around my fingers, hear it in the ragged cadence of her breathing.
Her phone starts vibrating on the nightstand, but I ignore it completely, relentlessly driving her to the edge of bliss and coaxing her over it.
“Eli!” she gasps, the sweet sound of my name on her lips dissolving into a shuddering, high-pitched wail as she comes.
Her whole body locks up, thighs clamping around my ears as she gushes all over my hand and tongue.
I lick her through it, not stopping until she’s sobbing with pleasure and begging for me to relent.
Reluctantly, I ease off, pressing kisses to her soft skin as I make my way back up her body. I unfasten her binds, rubbing the red marks where the straps bit into her wrists, then gather her up in my arms and hold her while she slowly comes back down to earth.
“You’re perfect,” I murmur, my fingertips ghosting down her spine.
She laughs, voice rough and unsteady. “I’m a fucking mess, you mean.”
“A beautiful mess.”
She snorts, snuggling into my chest.
I brush her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear before reaching for her phone on the nightstand. “You can call Taylor back now, if you want,” I grumble, handing it over. “I doubt she’ll be satisfied until she’s heard your voice again.”
Bex huffs a laugh as she takes it, swiping at the screen. “She’s such a helicopter mom,” she quips, then blinks as her phone lights up, frowning down at it. “That wasn’t her. It was Ronnie.”
“Who the fuck is Ronnie?” I growl.
“My boss at the shop,” she murmurs absently as she hits the button to call him back.
He answers on the first ring, and naturally, I listen in. He greets her warmly, then tells her that a customer has been calling the shop non-stop, specifically requesting her for a tattoo.
“Who?” she asks, brows drawing in.
“Guy named Mike,” Ronnie replies gruffly. “Said he’d gotten work from you before, wants to book as soon as possible. Tonight, if you’re available.”
Beatrix’s eyes flick to mine, a little spark of excitement igniting in them. “Yeah, I can come in. How about ten?”
Ronnie gives her the details, then the call ends. She sets her phone aside, still sprawled naked against my chest, her legs tangled up with mine.
“I miss tattooing,” she muses.
My finger traces the lines of ink on her thigh. “I haven’t objected.”
She tips her head back to look at me, seemingly surprised.
“I’d never presume to hold you back from your passions, Beatrix.”
She snorts. “Good, because I’d never let you.”
She untangles herself from me and pushes off the bed, only to immediately collapse back onto the mattress when her legs give out beneath her.
“Whoa,” she breathes.
I’m upright and at her side in an instant, one hand closing around her arm to steady her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She waves me off. “Just a little dizzy. It’ll pass.”
I search her face, unconvinced. Her color is good, her pulse steady, but she’s still recovering, and I don’t particularly care for the reminder.
“You know, you’d heal faster if we–”
“Don’t say it.” She shakes her head, pointing a finger at me in warning. “I know you want bonded superpowers, but I’m gonna need some time to get used to the idea before I agree to it.”
“I don’t need superpowers.” I brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Just you.”
Her expression softens, her hand lifting to cup my cheek. “Aw, you’re sweet when you want to be.”
I frown. “You have a tendency to mistake statements of fact for compliments.”
“Shh.” She leans in to smack a kiss on my lips. “Don’t ruin it.”
She smirks as she rises from the bed and pivots toward the door, her magnificent ass swaying with every step.
I watch her go, fighting the urge to follow.
At the threshold, she pauses to glance back at me over her shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to eat me. Haven’t you had enough?”
“Of you? Never.”
She rolls her eyes, but smiles despite herself, all the sharp edges gone soft. “I’m gonna shower, then head out. Don’t wait up.”
I nod, though I have absolutely no intention of complying with that particular directive.
After watching her disappear into the hall, I flop back onto the bed, folding my arms behind my head. The room smells like sex and her, and for the first time in over a century, I feel almost content.
I stare at the ceiling as my thoughts drift over the last few days. The taste of her blood, the way her body responds to mine. The way she looked at me last night, like she still wanted me more than she feared me.
Then there’s the bond.
The possibilities.
A barrage of questions buzz through my head, each one branching into a hundred more. I’m desperate to get back to my research, to analyze the data and unravel the mysteries of what makes us compatible. To discern what, exactly, is happening between us on a biological level.
Under any other circumstances, those questions would command my full attention– but for once, something else consumes me more. Her.
Where she’s going, who she’ll be with, when she’ll be back. I want to hear her laugh and debate something inconsequential. I want her sprawled across my furniture and leaving her things where they don’t belong. I want her in my bed again.
There is one conclusion, at least, that requires no further analysis: I’ll never stop wanting her.
I lie there for another moment, staring at the ceiling.
Then, inevitably, my mind returns to my research, cataloguing what I’ll require.
Blood samples. Controls. Protocols. Variables.
All necessary to understand precisely how the impossible became possible.