CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Samiel
Ihauled her upright by the elbow, and in one easy motion, threw her over my shoulder. She kicked once, a reflex, but then laughed—a bright, filthy sound that went straight to the back of my skull. She clawed down my spine, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make my cock twitch back to life.
The stairs were a blur. I took them two at a time, Annie’s ass leveled at my mouth, the velvet of her dress bunched high. I bit her through the fabric, just to hear her yelp.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, voice muffled by my back.
I carried her where she belonged, to my—our—bed. I wanted her sprawled across those sheets, gripping that headboard, my hands and mouth claiming every inch until the memory of any other touch was erased from her skin. I kicked the door open, tossed her onto the mattress, and dragged her dress up those thighs that had been tormenting me all night.
She rolled over, hair a wild tangle across my pillow, lips swollen from my kisses. "You planning to fuck me through the box spring?"
My wings unfurled as I crawled over her, casting us both in shadow as I caged her between my arms. "You're not getting my cock until you come twice on my tongue." I let my fangs show when I said it. "I want to taste how wet you get for me. That's my price."
Her breath caught, pupils blown wide. "You're serious?"
I lowered myself until my lips brushed her ear, letting her feel the hard length of me pressed against her thigh. "You want it, you earn it. And when you finally get this cock, I'll ruin you so thoroughly you'll still feel me inside you next week."
A visible shiver ran through her body before she twisted her fingers in my hair and yanked me down with surprising strength. "Then stop talking," she whispered against my mouth, "and get to work."
I shoved her knees apart, palms biting into the soft flesh of her thighs. When I dragged her ass to the edge of the mattress, her heat was already radiating against my face. The velvet bunched at her waist, revealing black panties soaked through, the fabric clinging to every curve and fold of her cunt. I inhaled deeply before pressing my mouth against her, tasting her arousal through the thin barrier.
Her body went taut as a bowstring, one hand flying to the headboard, the other twisting in the sheets as if anchoring herself against the storm. I growled against her center, letting her feel the vibration travel through her core. My tongue traced the outline of her lips through the fabric, deliberately slow, savoring how her wetness seeped through with each stroke. When I finally slipped a finger beneath the edge, she was so slick I nearly lost control. Her clit swelled against my tongue, begging for attention as I teased around it, never quite giving her whatshe needed. She tried to grind against my mouth, desperate for more pressure, but I pinned her hips down with one arm across her stomach.
"Mine," I whispered against her flesh, my breath hot against her most sensitive spot. "My pace." Her thighs began to quiver uncontrollably as I sealed my lips around her clit and sucked, feeling her pulse against my tongue until she cried out, then caught herself—shocked at how quickly I could make her unravel.
"You're delicious,” I said, tongue flicking over the cloth, letting the words vibrate right against her cunt. "You get this wet just sucking my cock?”
She nodded, then shook her head, then nodded harder, like she couldn't decide which answer would get her what she wanted. I slid one claw up the line of her panties, cutting them in half so the fabric snapped back and left nothing but the bare, swollen lips underneath. I sucked her clit, slow and deliberate, while I worked two fingers into her, knuckles grinding the roof of her cunt until she started to lose the thread of language.
"God, fuck, don't stop," she said, but her voice was gone, shredded and hoarse.
I didn't. I wanted to break her open, to pull every last ounce of want out of her until she couldn't stand the thought of anyone else ever between her legs. I curled my fingers, tongue never leaving her, watching the way she twisted on the bed, how her face went slack with every pulse of my hand. I bit her inner thigh, just enough to leave a mark, then covered the spot with my mouth and sucked hard, so she'd feel it every time she sat down for the next week.
She came hard the first time, nails raking my scalp, dragging me deeper, grinding her cunt into my mouth until she drowned the sheets in slick. I lapped it up, pulling her through every aftershock, not letting up until the tremors faded and shecollapsed back, boneless and shaking. I sat up, chin slick with her, and let her see the mess she'd made out of me.
"One," I said, and the look in her eyes—hazed, ruined, hungry—almost undid me.
She tried to catch her breath, but I didn't let her. I pulled her forward, yanked the dress over her head, and laid her flat on the mattress. She was trembling when I slid back down, mouth open and ready, but this time I didn't tease. I ate her like I was starved, every lick harder, deeper, letting the pressure of my mouth draw a new, desperate sound from her every time I sucked her clit between my lips. She tried to twist away, but I grabbed her by the thighs and held her to my face, tongue fucking her until she sobbed my name and begged me to stop. I didn’t. Not until I had her shaking against my tongue, cunt spasming in a rhythm that felt like it might never end.
“Fuck, Sam, I can’t—” she gasped, but it was a lie. She rocked her hips to match me, greedy, hips fighting mine for control. I hooked her thighs over my shoulders and drove my tongue deeper, fingers curled inside her, and every time I pressed the flat of my tongue to her clit, she jerked like I was shocking her with a live wire.
She came again—this time louder, shameless, a sound so raw it made the fine hairs on my arms stand up. She convulsed, thighs locked around my head, and I let her ride it out, licking slower now, gentler, until the quake rolled down to aftershocks and sweat puddled in the small of her back.
When I pulled away, she was limp, eyes glassy, mouth half-open. Her hair stuck to her cheeks in wild black-and-blonde ropes, and her chest sawed air in and out like she’d just finished a marathon. I crawled up the bed, braced myself over her body, and let her feel the weight of everything I wanted to say.
“Two,” I said, voice gone to gravel. “You’re perfect. You know that?”
She managed a laugh, weak and incredulous, but she didn’t look away. “You’re going to kill me,” she said, and her voice was full of awe and delight and something that felt almost like fear, but better.
“No,” I said, “I’m going to keep you alive forever. That’s what you do with something you can’t stop wanting.” I meant it, every word. I let my mouth drift down to her throat, kissed the bruise blooming there, then tasted the sweat on her jaw and the salt at the corner of her eye.
She cupped my face, fingers shaking, and pulled me down for a kiss. The taste of her on my tongue made her moan, and she bit my lower lip, a little payback for every mark I’d left on her. I kissed her back, slow and deep, until I felt her body start to wake up again, her hips shifting under mine with that helpless, greedy want.
“Do you still want it?” I asked, not sure who I was teasing more.
