My nails dig into Shadow’s scaled flesh. "More," I rasp. "Hurt me."
I don't even recognize my own voice—wrecked, broken, ravenous.
Shadow growls low in his throat, vibrating against my ribs.
He sinks his fangs into my jugular without hesitation, and I scream, not in fear, but rapture. Wetness pools between my thighs as my inner muscles clench violently around nothing, desperate to be filled, desperate to be broken.
Shadow laps at the wound greedily, dragging his tongue down to my collarbone, a guttural moan ripping from him as he shudders.
"You taste too good," he pants raggedly. "I want to tear you open. I want to drain you dry—consume your heart."
His words aren't threats. They're devotion.
I can already feel my neck healing, but I don't want it to. I want to be split, so Shadow can work his way under my skin again and again.
"More," I demand.
Shadow’s mouth moves lower, fangs scraping the delicate skin over my breastbone. He bites down, not enough to maim, but enough to make me cry out, enough to split skin and taste the copper burst of my blood.
His claws rake lightly down my sides, leaving hairline scratches that sting against the sweat coating my skin. Tentacles coil around my ankles, my thighs, my waist, until I am wrappedand suspended by him, a doll of flesh and blood entirely at his mercy.
The slick rasp of Shadow’s forked tongue laps at the new wounds he scored along my ribs, working his way down to the cuts on my inner thigh.
He heals that which Elijah left behind before sinking his fangs so close to my center I’m not sure if the wetness between my legs is my blood or desire. I whimper, the sound torn from somewhere deep and desperate. He groans against me, vibrating through my bones, drunk on the taste of me.
"My perfect little animal," he murmurs against my slit, striking my clit once with that deft tongue. My belly clenches, but he’s moved on to the rest of my body. Over and over he pierces my skin, before healing it back over with his saliva.
Soon I’m covered in blood until it soaks our flesh like wet paint and I’m lightheaded.
His shadows ripple against my thighs, tightening, teasing, dragging over every hypersensitive inch of my skin.
Shadow draws back, the corners of his mouth glistening with my blood. All the shadows save for his dark tentacles have receded, leaving him a hard, solid mass. More discernible than I’ve ever seen him. I swear I almost see cheekbones.
That’s not all that’s revealed to my gaze.
Shock and awe fill me as I get my first good look at what hangs between his legs. It’s similar to a human’s but so much more. It’s a mass of bumpy ridges, like so many waves carved out of solid rock. The length and girth turns my throat dry even though I’ve fit that behemoth between my legs before.
The light purple veins running along its onyx length create a beautiful contrast. It’s thick and erect, jutting out with evident desire, the tip glistening with slickness that I crave to lick and suckle at.
My monster is the most erotic thing I've ever seen, feasting on my blood. I lift my hand to touch, only to have him knock me aside.
Shadow grabs my wrists and spins me around. His monstrous cock throbs between my thighs, slick and leaking, the ridges along it catching against my blood-slicked skin as he presses closer. I gasp, every nerve ending firing at once. My body throbs, aching to be filled, stretched, broken. I slide my pussy lips over his ridges with desperate little moans.
He runs his forked tongue over my blood-smeared neck. Hot shivers wrack my body until I’m nearly out of my mind with need.
Groans and muffled cries intrude on the moment. Our captive audience doesn’t care for the show they are getting. Not that I care about what they see. When Shadow is near, nothing and no one else matters.
"You say you are a monster?" Shadow whispers in my ear, causing a shiver to rattle down my spine. "Prove it."
"How?" It comes out a needy moan even as I catch my clit on his dick, shamelessly riding the delicious friction.
Elijah drops from the ceiling, slamming into the ground so he’s forced on his knees with the crack of bone.
"Decide his fate." It’s as if the request comes from a literal devil on my shoulder. No angels to be found.
I stop. Blinking, I focus on the bloated purple face of my neighbor. His bloodshot eyes narrow into a glare of pure hate—even now, even brought to his knees, he burns with it. "You fucking witch. You’re the Devil’s whore."
A thick ribbon of shadow lashes out and wraps around Elijah’s throat, squeezing. Elijah gags against the tightening pressure, bloodshot eyes bulging, his mouth working uselessly.
