I don’t bother checking if I’m alone, because this always happens when I’m about to go over the edge. I presume it’s what’s left of my conscience, the tiny sliver of humanity that watches with morbid fascination as I take what I want without giving a fuck about the consequences.
Like the world already knows what kind of man I am…and it’s waiting to catch me at it.
I’ve learned to lean into the sensation. To embrace it. These days it only makes the ache better.
It won’t make me stop.
Ican’tstop.
Haven’s thighs are warm, pliant, unresisting when I ease them open.
I pause at the sight of a dark stain on her panties.
Another man might have hesitated, tempted to respect biology’s red light. But I’m already sinking down, breath hot against the inside of her thigh, mouth salivating.
I nose into her wet, coppery heat, tongue pressing against sodden cotton, then nudging it aside, finding the slick blood-salt tang beneath.
Blood.
A taste that stays with a man forever.
Haven stirs, and I glance up from between her thighs.
Her lashes flutter, eyes hazy and unfocused as she peers down her body at me.
“You…” she breathes.
I wait for a scream, a fist to my face, a hand twisted in my hair to jerk me aside.
Her thighs twitch, her eyes slowly blinking. When her mind eventually registers what’s happening, her lips tremble as she fights the drugs she took.
“What…” she breathes, her voice thick with sedatives and fear.
Christ. That flicker of panic sends a surge of lust through me.
This muddle of half-conscious resistance, this is the point where a sane man withdraws.
But the only move I make is to tip over the edge, free falling into sin.
My mouth hovers just shy of her pussy, so close I can still scent her blood. Close enough that she knows what’s coming, even in her incapacitated state.
“Shh, sweet girl.” My lips brush the inside of her thigh. “I’m going to eat this sweet, bloody pussy whether you’re sobbing my name or screaming for someone to save you.”
“B-but you can’t…” she stammers through slack lips.
I tug her panties to the side, exposing the entirety of her stained pussy, and drag the pad of my thumb against her clit.
Her protest dies with a small, mortified whimper.
“Good girl.”
I let the edge of my teeth graze bare skin until I’m right by her entrance. My tongue darts out, twisting, my teeth clamping down.
The sound she makes when I slowly tug out her tampon is the stuff of lurid fantasies. I drop it inside one of the empty glasses on her nightstand, barely taking my eyes off her, savoring every ounce of horror and inevitability in her dilated eyes.
Then I take a slow, luxuriant lick over her pussy.
“Christ, you taste so good I could eat you alive,” I murmur, eyes locked on her cunt.
