His head shook beneath my grip. “I’m just a monster from the Northern Hive. Slave to my nature like anyone else in that ballroom.”
I felt like a slave to my nature as well. My blood ran hot and my pulse thundered in my ears.
“Touch yourself.” His whisper was almost a whine. “Slide your fingers down your center and feed me.”
I considered his words as my body screamed for the touch. Silently, I removed one hand from his head and slowly dipped my hand beneath the waistband.
“That’s it,” he rasped, leaning forward impatiently.
“Wait.” I pulled his head back, away from the fabric. He hissed beforeletting out an amused chuckle. He liked this, me being in control. Heat licked up my spine at the utter power he let me wield over him.
I dipped my fingers into my body, primed for everything I wanted to do but wasn’t allowed to have. I gasped as I lingered over my swollen bud, dragging out the sensation by passing over it again, and again. Dommik smiled a fang-filled grin. He watched me with his predatory gaze as he licked his canines.
When I removed my fingers, they were covered in my blood and Dommik angled himself beneath me, ready to catch the liquid.
I slowly lowered them, inch by inch, until they met his waiting mouth. His lips wrapped around my fingers and a satisfied hum vibrated up my arm. His tongue darted over every inch of my blood-covered skin and when it forced its way between my two fingers to get what lingered there, I unraveled.
“Feast, Dommik,” I commanded.
Surprise, delight, hesitation flashed across dark pupils like falling stars.
“I want you to,” I assured him. “Please.”
Fabric scraped against stone as Dommik eliminated any space between him, me, and the wall. His head moved slowly, eyes watching as if waiting for me to change my mind. But I just nodded.
The tip of Dommik’s wicked tongue ran the length of his borrowed pants, from my wanting entrance to my swollen bundle of nerves. The blood from my cycle made the fabric stick to my heated, sensitive skin.
More.I needed more. I let out a small gasp and he growled into the fabric.
Fuck. That felt better than I thought it would.
Dommik sent his tongue between my thighs again and moved his hands to my hips, pinning them in place. My hands, instead of holding his head at bay, guided him in his task.
Pushing, lifting, encouraging.
One moment I thought,we shouldn’t be doing thisandwe’ll be killed if we’re caught. Only to be followed byyes, more of thatandfuck, never let this end.
But I only breathed, sending silent prayers upwards as I took fading glances at the stony ceiling between pleasure induced eye rolls.
“Dommik,” I panted.
“That’s it, lovely,” he commanded from his knees between strokes. “You make my name sound like a prayer.”
I was praying. Praying for more sinful friction. Praying he would never stop. Praying this would never end.
An entire religion could be built around Dommik’s tongue and what it did over the fabric as it licked and enjoyed what, for my entire adult life, I’d found to be a disgusting nuisance.
His head and hands guided my hips with the rhythm, giving him access not just to the blood between my legs, but the sensitive bud at the apex of my center.
“Dommik,” I stuttered again as my orgasm built.
A lightning bolt of release ripped through me. His growls vibrated across my skin, savoring his meal of my natural blood and juices that followed the throbbing waves from my core.
His tongue knew just what to do to encourage the pleasure to linger there. My own throbbing pushed back against his greedy mouth, our bodies finishing a primal conversation. He pressed and sucked, until I begged him to free me from his dominating grasp. The sensation had become uncomfortable from his loitering pressure. And he obliged.
When I finally formed the words, “No more,” and tapped his shoulder in surrender, he stopped.
Dommik pulled his head away and slowly stood in front of me. The unmistakable metallic scent of fresh blood coated his lips and breath.
