Taking the handful of confusing fabric from her, he got on his knees.
“Fuck, girl. Fuck.” He whispered hoarsely. Taking her hips in his hands, he kissed the skin beneath her belly button, right above her mound, brushing his lips back and forth.
It tickled and felt good and re-ignited the flame of the low burning coals inside her. Coals he had placed. The night and morning changed her, inserted a fluttering awareness and need into her middle, sparking every time Micah paid the least bit of attention to her.
“This pussy is so fucking gorgeous.” His finger traced the seam between her legs and found the barely hidden pulse of her clit, the wetness on the verge of dripping.
“What are you doing to me?” Sophie stuttered out, her hands going to his shoulders to keep herself from falling down.
A pleased hum vibrated in the back of his throat. “Just looking at what is mine. Maybe get you a little matching piercing like mine right here.” He tapped at the top of her swelling clitoris.
“What?” Sophie moaned out. He kept tapping. Light. Barely there. Tap, tap, tap. His other hand gripped her hip.
He chuckled. “Poor Starlight. Like you innocent, but I want you dirty.”
Under her hands, his body moved as he tipped his head and lightly kissed the spot he’d been teasing. She felt the quick insertion of his tongue as he tasted her.
“Micah.” She moaned his name—distress, pleasure-mixed and wild.
“You even taste like starlight and magic, baby,” he said, drawing back.
He made her feel like starlight and magic. Her insides tumbled, rolling on waves of clouds, eager and over-sensitized, on the verge of a bonfire that would shoot into the sky and explode into a new galaxy.
Leaning back, he spread the ball of ribbon and string out, creating holes. Now, Sophie recognized it as underwear. Unlike anything she normally wore. It covered nothing. It did nothing.
She stepped obediently into the holes he created and he pulled it up, arranging strips on her hips and thighs, between the lips of her vulva, and up the crack of her behind to the top where the little bow rested.
Micah said, “All wrapped up, just for me. Fucking perfection.”
Sophie’s finger twitched with the need to tug at it. She could feel her blush spread from forehead to belly button as he stood and circled her, inspecting. “Just looking at you has me hard again. Fuck. It’s endless. I’m gonna walk bow-legged all day. Look what you do to your man. My mind spinning with all the tasty ways I’m gonna corrupt you.”
She got stuck on the words,your man.
He picked the dress up off the bed, unzipped it, and before she realized what was happening, the floaty fabric swished over her head, the material of the bodice cupping her breasts perfectly, but in no way supporting them or hiding her stiffened nipples. Micah noticed with a grin, and his finger flicked across the tingling, poking buds.
“Micah. I need underwear, a bra, my bra, please.”
“No fucking way. You can wear my jacket or find something on the bed. But right now, get in the bathroom, fix your hair, put that sun stuff on. And no washing me off of any part of you. No shower.” He pinched her nipple, hard, the way he had when she was on her knees and accidentally closed her eyes.
It hurt. But something in her pelvis squeezed, and the butterflies returned, almost like when he made her orgasm. What was happening to her?
It was easier to follow orders than anything else. She’d lose a fight with him; he’d already proven that. She got out of the bed and shuffled to the bathroom obediently, too confused to argue.
The dress fit her well the sky blue of the tiny floral pattern lending brightness to her pale skin and hair.
But she couldn’t look at herself. Not when the dress showed her figure to advantage, turning the look overtly sensual with the lack of a bra. It looked like blood-slave clothing, her limbs exposed for easy feeding.
What would Katya say if she saw Sophie dressed like this?
But Katya didn’t matter. Micah said she was his. And she couldn’t help wanting him to mean those words.
In the bag she found a good sunscreen, not the kind she had at home made by a vampir chemist: this was pre-Apocalypse Day stuff. Her pale skin was almost as bad as theirs, though she only burned easily—no sun-disease like the vampir could die from. The cream was pasty, but in jar form it was easy to mix in the oil settled on the top.
Micah had given her a treasure trove of pre-end-of-the-world items, all still sealed and unused as if they were just picked up that day, like a packaged toothbrush and toothpaste. There was a good brush, stuff for her hair, fragranced body lotion that smelled light and clean. Bottles of stuff she could use in the shower, even old packages of tampons and pads. The bag was so complete, only a woman could have put it all together.
Lining everything up on the empty counter, Sophie discovered something called mousse. Picking it up, she looked at the label.
Mousse? She had no idea what that was. She’d never used it before. After reading the label, she spritzed some on her scalp before combing it through her hair. The smell of violets and metal made wrinkle her nose. Not exactly pleasant.
