His mouth works against my thigh, drawing blood and sensation in equal measure, while his thumb finds my clit. The combination is overwhelming. Every nerve ending comes alive, hypersensitive to his touch.
“More,” I beg, not sure if I mean more pain or more pleasure or both.
He gives me both. His teeth sink deeper into my thigh while his thumb circles my clit with increasing pressure. The dual sensations build on each other, feeding each other, until I'm writhing against his mouth and hand.
When his tongue returns to my pussy, still tasting of my blood, I nearly come undone immediately.
“Not yet,” he murmurs against me. “Not until I'm ready.”
“Please—”
“You'll wait.” His voice carries absolute command. “You'll wait until I tell you.”
He licks me with maddening slowness, avoiding the direct contact with my clit thatwould send me over the edge. Instead, he traces patterns around it, through the folds of my sex, tasting and teasing until I'm desperate.
All while continuing to feed from my thigh. The bite marks heal as soon as he moves to a new spot, silver lines appearing where his teeth pierced skin. He's marking me, claiming me, making me his in the most literal way possible.
“Kiakoa, please, I can't?—”
“You can.” He lifts his head, mouth stained with my blood and arousal. “You can take more.”
His teeth find a new spot, higher on my thigh, closer to my core. This bite is deeper than the others, and the pain sends me arching off the bed. But his free hand presses down on my stomach, holding me in place.
“Take it,” he commands. “Take the pain. Let me see how much you can handle.”
I do. I take the bite, the blood loss, the overwhelming mix of sensations. And when his mouth returns to my pussy, tongue pressing flat against my clit, the combination finally pushes me over the edge.
My back arches off the bed despite his restraining hand, and I scream as pleasure tears through me. Every muscle in my body contracts, pussy clenching around nothing while waves of sensation crash over me.
“That's it,” he growls against me. “Come for me again. Show me what you are.”
I can't speak, can barely breathe. The pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming. All I can do is grip his hair and hold on as he destroys me with teeth and tongue and the perfect combination of pain and ecstasy.
When he finally lifts his head, I'm shaking and gasping and completely his.
“How do you feel?” he asks, sitting back on his heels.
I try to form words, but my brain isn't working properly. The blood loss and multiple orgasms have left me floating, disconnected from everything except the throb of healing bite marks and the satisfied ache between my thighs.
“Different,” I finally manage.
“Different how?”
“Empty. But not hollow. Clean.” I flex my fingers, testing my coordination. “Like you drained everything that was hurting me and left only the good parts.”
“And how do I taste?”
I don't understand the question until he leans down and kisses me. His mouth carries the flavor of my blood and arousal, mixed with something uniquely him. Winter and iron and satisfied hunger.
“Like mine,” I whisper against his lips.
“Yes. You are mine. And I am yours.”
He pulls back to look at me, golden eyes taking in the bite marks scattered across both thighs. Silver lines that will be permanent reminders of this night.
“No regrets?” he asks.
“Only that we waited this long.”
