And in that moment, something shifted.
Like an echo of something ancient and true had just awoken inside me. And with it, so did a desperation to cling onto this feeling.
Before I could fall into Harper’s bad habit of over thinking, I sent another text.
Come over.
The marble floor bit into my knees—cold and unyielding. I had made others kneel like this before. Had commanded obedience. I reveled in the way power dripped from my touch, my presence.
But now?
Now as the blindfold tightened around my head like a leash, and her footsteps echoed closer, my blood ignited—a slow burn that licked up my spine and coiled low in my gut.
I should have felt humiliation. Instead, I burned for her. Each step she took feeding this ceaseless hunger—this desperation for her touch.
For salvation. Or perhaps damnation. I didn’t know anymore.
All I knew was that I needed her—any piece of her, in any capacity—however she chose to give herself to me.
The footsteps stopped in front of me. Reaching forward, I found her legs, raking my claws up her bare calves as a soft gasp escaped her.
Fuck… that sound was enough to make me want to rip the blindfold off just to see what expression she would make.
I worked my hands up the back of her thighs and over the curve of her ass, pushing away the fabric, which in this moment felt like sacrilege for simply existing.
I raked my teeth up her inner thigh, biting down just hard enough to hear her breath hitch. Bunching her dress in onehand, I used my other to feel along the lace of her panties, her sweet scent coaxing me closer until my breath feathered her sex.
“Can I kiss you?” I rasped, my fingers already hooking under the band.
Two taps.
I closed the offensive space between us, kissing her pussy as both tips of my tongue find her clit. I moaned as her taste flooded my mouth—intoxicating and overwhelming— caressing my tongue with the closest thing I would ever know to anything holy.
Each stroke of my tongue an orison. Each moan, each whimper from her a gift for my worship.
And if it meant receiving her gifts, I would spend eternity on my knees.
Her hands fell on my horns, guiding me closer to where she wanted me—needed me—to kiss her. And I did.
Harder.
Deeper.
Faster.
I kissed her until her knees went weak, until her legs shook, and until I earned the sweet taste of her pleasure fully sated as she rode my face, finishing on my tongue.
Guiding her with my hands, I laid her down on the floor. I kissed every inch of her body as I crawled up, leaving my mark on the most hidden parts of her.
“I hope you are not too tired, Flower. I don’t plan on letting you sleep tonight.”
Ambrose
Harper nestled against me, her warmth curling around my side like a secret.
And for me, it was. That fact was not lost upon me. The guilt of keeping my knowing of who she was from her slowly ate at me.
The smell of her scent, drenched in my own, filled my room. It had become routine. She would come over, spend the night, and by seven in the morning, she would vanish like a ghost.
