Page 103 of Bleed

He stares. God, does he stare. Those dark eyes rake over every inch of exposed skin, piercing deeper than a tattoo needle as a needy throb builds in my core.

“All of it,” he rasps, inclining his chin.

This time, the urge to resist doesn’t even surface. I peel off my bralette, tauntingly dangling it from a finger before letting it fall. My nipples pucker instantly, more from his attention than the chill in the air. I get a strange spike of nerves when I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my panties, but the hunger in his eyes drowns it out as I drag them down, kicking them away. My shoulders roll back as I straighten with a smirk, letting him take it all in.

“Exquisite,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then he turns away, moving toward the low cabinetry along the wall.

My pulse skips in nervous anticipation, gaze skimming over the implements hanging along the mirror above it, but he doesn’t reach for any of them. Instead, he removes his glasses, sets them down on the countertop, and pulls open one of the lower drawers to retrieve a length of deep navy silk.

My heart pounds as he carries it back over, my chin tilting up to hold his gaze as he towers over me. Taking my hands, he guides them together at the wrists, his intentions clear.

“May I?” he asks, voice a low rumble.

I blush, suddenly shy. “Yes.”

He loops the silk around my wrists carefully, binding them together. Not tight, just enough to make it clear who’s in charge. When he’s finished, I flex my hands experimentally, finding it’s just snug enough to restrict, but not tight enough to hurt.

“How does it feel?” he questions.

“Uh, good,” I reply, my mouth suddenly dry.

He lowers my hands, trailing his fingers down the line of my arms, over my ribs, and down to my hips. His hands close around them, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing, moving toward the bed and depositing me in the center of the mattress. The silk tie rubs against my wrists as I shift my weight, sending a shiver rippling through my whole body.

Elliott takes a step backwards, yanking his hoodie off over his head. He’s not wearing anything underneath, and while I try not to gawk, it’s impossible. The man is built for sin, every muscle hard and defined. Chiseled, but not bulky– the kind of physique you only get from decades of obsessive self-discipline.

He clocks my reaction, and I swear I see a flicker of satisfaction cross his face before he climbs up onto the bed to join me. His big hands cup my knees, then roam up my thighs, pushing them apart until I’m splayed wide before him.

“You’re already wet,” he observes as he drags a single finger up the seam of my pussy, collecting the slickness and bringing it to his mouth.

The move is so unexpected and filthy coming from him that I can’t help but groan as I watch him lick it clean, a fresh wave of heat unfurling in my core. We’ve barely even begun, and I’m already so wound up I can barely take it.

His nostrils flare, and I know his vampire senses are calibrating exactly how turned on I am right now. Something wicked gleams in his eyes, then he dips his head down between my legs, tongue flicking out to lick a stripe along my slit.

I jolt, my knees snapping together on instinct, but he anticipates it, hands holding firm against my thighs. He sucks my clit between his lips, then releases it with a pop that makes me cry out, my wrists straining against the silk.

“Relax,” he coaxes as he sits up, one large palm splaying against my chest, guiding me to lie back. He pins my bound hands to my belly, holding them there with one hand while he brings the other between my legs again. “Let me give you what you need.”

The first touch is shockingly soft, but I’m so wound up I arch off the mattress. His fingers stroke and tease, then he slides one thick digit inside me. I groan, rolling my hips into his hand as he adds a second finger, twisting them as he works me open. His thumb rubs in slow circles on my clit, the combined sensation rapidly driving me to the brink of ruin.

He never stops watching my face. Every twitch, every gasp, he clocks it and recalibrates. It’s the most attentive I’ve ever been fucked in my life.

Then his mouth joins the party. He lowers his head and starts licking my pussy, using the flat of his tongue in long, deliberate strokes. When he starts using his vampire speed to make his tongue vibrate, my eyes roll back and I nearly levitate off the mattress.

“Oh fuck,” I gasp, my hands jerking against the tie. “Fuck, Elliott…”

I arch and writhe, but he just presses his big palm firmer against my stomach, holding me in place and pinning my hands so I can’t grab at him. Then he pulls back, lips shiny with my arousal as his eyes lock onto mine.

“You’re going to come,” he growls, like he’s diagnosing a symptom.

I shake my head, desperate to drag it out, but he doesn’t relent. He lowers his head again, working his fingers and tongue together until I shatter, crying out his name as my wrists twist in the silk.

My climax feels endless. I’m still shaking when he finally relents, sitting up and licking his lips, but he doesn’t stop there. He slips his fingers out, only to push them back in, this time three at once. The stretch burns, but it’s a good burn, and he watches my reaction like a hawk.

“Still feel good?” he asks, one dark brow arching.

I nod, trembling from overstimulation.

“You’re so damn tight.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion that has me gasping. “I don’t want to hurt you.”