“Tell me what you want,” he teased.
“You know what I want.” My voice turned hoarse, filled with frustration and arousal.
“I want to hear you say it.” He placed a gentle kiss on the vein of my neck. Too gentle.
Refusing to obey, I bit my lips; my hands ushered him closer.
“I’m patient," Francis whispered into my ear, sending dozens of goosebumps down my flesh; my skin caught aflame.
“Francis—” I whined when his teeth punctured the soft part of my ear. “Taste me,” I surrendered.
A low growl escaped from Francis’ throat before his teeth sunk into my throat.
Relief washed over me as the pain erupted through my flesh. He sucked onto my open wound; my eyes rolled back in satisfaction.
“Oh!” A cry pushed through my throat; my body shattered underneath his. “Francis—”
His teeth abandoned my neck, to my disappointment, yet I was not able to form a word. His tongue caressed my bleeding wound before he planted a small kiss onto my injury.
His lips traveled down, leaving a trace behind them. Down and down, until they paused for a brief moment on the inside of my thigh.
His knees hit the floor; his lips were aligned with my entrance.
“What are you doing?” My eyes widened as he planted a kiss on my abdomen. My cheeks burned with excitement, even when my heart raced from embarrassment.
“I am tasting you.” A wicked smile spread out on Francis’ face as he pulled me closer. “Isn’t that what you wanted, my love?”
“I—” The words turned into a moan as Francis' lips brushed over the most sensitive part of me.
“Tell me to stop.” Francis’ hands held onto my thighs, spreading them apart. When only my panting came in reply, Francis kissed down a path from my knees all the way to my bud.
He nibbled on it until my moans turned to cries. His tongue brushed over my flesh; my body jerked forward, begging for more. My hand reached for his hair, forcing him further.
He laughed at my eagerness before his tongue slid inside of me.
“Oh, dear Gods—” Flowers wrapped around my insides, tightening them into a knot. The pressure spread through every ounce of my being, locking me into blissful oblivion.
“You taste divine, my love,” he rasped.
My love.The words alone made me burst into flames anew.
My eyelids heavied as I fought for every breath. Francis lay beside me, his soft–as velvet–fingers caressing my cheek.
“Would you say that again?” I whispered as my cheeks warmed. My finger reached for his soft lips. He lay still as I traced down to his throat imagining my teeth in his flesh. I paused at the vein that beat against my finger faster and faster. “Would you call me that again?”
His eyelids closed as he drew a sharp breath in. “My love,” he said, his pulse spiraled along with my own.
“Do you mean it?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.
“I certainly do.” He brought my hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on each knuckle.
The fear I expected to come at his reply remained at bay, and that somehow terrified me more.
“You needn’t stress yourself with my feelings, Cordelia.” His eyes met mine. “I can keep it to myself if you wish.”
“No.” I shook my head so slightly. “I don’t wish you to.”
His brows furrowed slightly at my confession, though he refrained from voicing his questions, and I was grateful—for I, myself, was unsure what to make of my emotions. Certainly not when I lay bare on the sheets beside him.
