Page 177 of Damsel in Disguise

Mine to mark.

Mine to remember.

Even if only for tonight, and we end tomorrow.

By the time I pull back, darkening marks bloom across her skin, leaving scattered evidence of where my mouth has been.

It’s almost all over her body.

I reach for the bedsheet, quickly twisting it into a makeshift rope before folding her in half and securing each of her wrists to her legs. This time, she goes willingly, showing me off her flexibility with a look that only feeds into my fire.

With a wicked smirk tugging at my lips, I pour the liquid over her pussy.

Her eyes widen with anticipation, pupils dilating as she feels the dark red trail glide over her core down to her ass crack.

Before she can form a question, I bend down and lick away the dripping wine, starting from the forbidden stretch of flesh and working my way to her slit until my mouth reaches her clit.

I finish with a slow suction, making her back arch up.

“Al—”

I pour some more.

The wine mingles with her taste, turning something already intoxicating into pure temptation, one that I can’t stop licking, sucking, and tasting.

The bottle keeps pouring until it empties. Somewhere along the way, I stop caring about the wine altogether.

I find myself feasting on her instead, occasionally driving my tongue deeper inside her slit as a reward for every sweet moan and breathless cry of my name.

They only seem to make me greedier.

Every sound she gives me has my tongue pushing deeper, exploring, savoring, drawing out every reaction I can wring out of her trembling body.

I could stay like this for hours.

I don’t stop even when her body warns me that she’s close. If anything, that only drives me further over the edge.

One hand slips between her thighs, finger-fucking her while my mouth remains occupied, working her on her greedy pussy relentlessly.

Only when she’s finally spent do I stop. Even then, it’s reluctant.

I press a lingering kiss to her inner thigh before finishing it off with a sharp bite. It earns me another sweet cry from her.

Ariella pants against the sheets, chest rising and falling unevenly while her breath catches in her throat.

My gaze drifts over the artwork I’ve left behind on her creamy skin with pure satisfaction.

Then I’m leaning over her again. And I kiss her, letting her taste herself on my tongue while I work to free myself from the confines of my pants.

A low sigh falls against her lips as I wrap a hand around myself, working my grip along the shaft.

I’m painfully hard, the tip flushed and aching with beads of precum leaking off.

I rub my length against those vertical lips.

The second I do, her hips jerk up despite the restraints.

A grin spreads across my face.