There’s no way she’s done this with someone else. Just me. Only me.
It was both perverse and yet sacred to be on the other end of the bite, but the moment her precious little fangs slid through his flesh, all sting and then glowy warmth, Atticus knew he was a goner. There was no going back from this.
The pleasure was instant.As soon as her venom hit his bloodstream, he let out a long, low groan and wrapped his arm around her back to clutch her opposite shoulder, clasping her to him like he feared she’d stop.
He knew that in a few seconds, her venom would stop flowing. She’d extract her fangs. She’d use her perfect tongue to make a little suction and drink from him. He knew the mechanics because he’d done it many times to different partners, but he never knew it felt likethis.
Carmine didn’t make a sound, but her hands wandered, petting, soothing, driving him wild as she extracted her fangs.Her tongue was hot and wet, her lips smooth. When she began to pull from him, he let out a low, reflexive shout.
She startled and tried to pull back, but he quickly cupped the back of her head again. Holding here there.Can’t let her go. Won’t.
“No,” he gasped, “keep going. Please. Take more, doll. Take what you need.”
It took her a second, but she got back into the flow. She melted until she was wrapped around him, clinging to him, their bodies pressed together as intimately as they could be while still clothed.
He was desperate to rock his hips. All he needed was the slightest bit of friction and he’d go off like a teenager. Gods help him if one of those hands snuck down to pop the button on his pants. He’d be done in seconds.
Don’t. You can’t. She didn’t ask for any of that.
But that didn’t stop him from turning his nose into her hair to breathe her in. It didn’t stop him from running his hand down her back, feeling the elegant shape of her ribs and waist. It didn’t stop him from?—
He let out a low sound of complaint when she began to lap at him, closing the wound with her saliva. Atticus’s breath sawed in and out of him.We can’t be done already. No, no, no.
He wanted to demand she come back. He needed her to take more. If she moved away now, he’d lose every last shred of composure and beg her to stay.
His hands turned into vices on her waist as she sat back a little. Not away, but enough that they could look at each other. The change also resettled her weight — putting her right on top of his cock.
Atticus hissed and nearly lifted her by the hips, desperate to throw her off before he lost control of himself and did somethingunforgivable, but she rocked a little, just enough, and his good intentions burst like a bubble.
“Atticus?” Her voice was so soft, so blissed out, and the clumsy, shy rocking motions of her hips were so needy.
He gave in to the desire to look at her.Fuck.
She was staring at him with huge, blissed out eyes. Her lips were a little swollen and stained. They parted, so he could see the blood that painted her perfect pink tongue, too. It was on her breath, running down her throat, sustaining her.
He made a sound he’d never made before: some strange cross between a whine and a growl. The roots of his fangs throbbed in his gums. He wanted todevourher.
Like she’d read his mind, Carmine reached for his hand and guided it down. “Please touch me.”
“I shouldn’t.” So why was his hand sliding under the bunched fabric of her dress? Because he was a bad person, probably. Definitely. No one was good enough to touch Carmine, but he had to be lowest on the list by far.
Carmine cupped his jaw and looked at him like— He had no idea. It was some mix of awe and academic interest, like she was trying to savor the moment but also like he was a wet specimen in a jar, soon to be dissected so her keen mind could understand how he worked. It was hot as fuck.
“I want you to,” she whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips against his cheek experimentally. “Please, Atticus. Touch me.”
He was ruined.
“Fuck.Fuck.”He didn’t stand a chance. As soon as his fingers hit the soaked gusset of her panties, he was done for. “Did drinking from me make you this wet, doll?”
She paused like she had to think about it. Maybe she did. “Yes.”
“Did you like how I tasted?”
That got a much more immediate response. “Yes. Very much. I want more.”
That answer deserved a reward. Atticus slid his fingers inside her panties and found hot, silky flesh.Gods have mercy on me.A single exploratory touch soaked his fingers. She wasdrippingfor him. From one taste.
Slick flesh, smooth as silk and hot as fire, scalded his fingers. She was gorgeous everywhere, and when her desire perfumed the air, it was a high the likes of which he’d never experienced.
