“Whenever it hurts again,” he breathes against my ear, “I’ll make it better.”
That shudder goesstraightto my cunt.
What. The. Fuck. Andromeda.Pull yourself together.
“Alright, now I’m tagged or whatever. What’s next?” I don’treallywant to hear Sylvus say it, but I’m a nervous talker.
“Next, I envenomate you.”
It’s a medical word. A clinical word.Envenomate.
So why does it make heat flutter through my rib cage?
Maybe because I know what that means. If the hushed whispers are true, that’s what turns me into a mindless, drooling milk slut.
Or maybe it’s because of how he says it, hungry and low, like he’s been longing to do it since he first scented me in his forest.
He leans over my neck, breath hot and humid against my skin.
It’s a reflex to duck my head toward him, protecting the vulnerable area.
He places his hand across my face, gripping my head and prying me open.
My breath shudders. My heart thuds in my chest, but I don’t struggle. Like the elastic silk around me, the pressure of his hand is oddly soothing.
“Are you scared?” he breathes, menace in his tone.
“Yes…”
“Scared that it will hurt? Or…” His hot tongue slides across my neck.
More heat coils at my core, tingling through my bones.
“…scared that it will feelgood? Scared that you’lllikebeing my mindless little hucow pet?”
My lack of a caustic retort is damning.
His fangs graze my skin.
I tremble.
Then, with a hungry exhale, his teeth sink in.
I gasp. The pain is sharp and deep, shocking my nervous system to life. My senses go bright and open.
Sylvus moans.
The sound drags down my spine, waking every nerve, making the pain easier to bear.
Because it’s turning me on.
Sylvus works his fangs deeper, and heat floods me, pumping rhythmically from his venom glands.
He moans again, hungrier, biting harder. Hot drool runs down my collarbone, but I know he doesn’t spill a drop of venom.
It’s all coursing through my bloodstream, penetrating every cell.
My breath quickens in my throat, and his bite reflexively tightens.
