Page 361 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘You know it does. Do I taste good?’

‘Heaven.’

‘I want you to bite me,’ Kade babbles, fingers curling and uncurling in the stupid shit Lachlan still has on, heart running far ahead of his mouth.

Lachlan cocks his head. ‘You want me to break skin?’

‘Yes. All for me, only me. I want it,’ he chants.

The pain is exquisitely sharp.

It slices through, delivering pleasure like venom.

Kade clings hard to his ownership of the beautiful sensation, welcomes it, drowns it in consent, in loving, obsessive need.

‘Drink it, drink me,’ he begs, simply unable to hold it back anymore. Life is too short not to ask for what you want. ‘Please.’

Lachlan makes a low sound akin to a growl, his mouth fixing over the welcome point of pain as pressure builds. Kade’s eyes roll back, a new kind of sensory overwhelm dragging him out to sea.

He’s drinking him, swallowing his blood, hips to hips, both hard, but this feeling is unlike anything Kade’s ever felt before. It’s so deep inside, like Lachlan is drinking his soul, like a slow-motion orgasm fizzing in his blood. Arms around Lachlan’s neck, panting loudly, Kade is wrecked and ruined as his neglected cock bleeds precome between their bodies, trapped under fabric, nettles biting his legs.

‘W-want yours too,’ he manages, lips tingling.

Lachlan pulls off, nuzzling him. ‘Hmm?’

Kade licks the taste of his own blood out of Lachlan’s mouth, delighting in his own iron. ‘I want to bite you too.’

He gives his neck in turn, and Kade rubs his lips back and forth, burrowing into the scent, the sensory haven of this man’s skin. Both hands slip under his shirt, seeking his chest, lifting the material to bunch before Lachlan helps him by pulling it off entirely.

Kade goes to do the same for his sweater, and Lachlan stops him.

‘It’s too cold.’

‘You’ll keep me warm,’ he whispers, licking over Lachlan’s pulse point, dragging teeth. He’s mindless with need, jaw aching to bite. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Fuck, yes.’

Kade bites down hard.

It’s difficult to break the skin at first.

He didn’t realise how hard he’d need to do it.

But after a few seconds, he tastes something new and beautiful that trickles over his tongue, and then he laughs again, half-crazed but so fucking perfectly himself as he fixes his mouth over the injury and sucks to swallow.

Lachlan then returns to his bite and they are drinking each other’s fucking blood, and that’s what kicks Kade right in the guts, makes him come so hard he sees writhing white lights behind his eyes, an explosion of serpentine stars that has each of his nerve endings screaming in key, so perfectly in pitch as he comes so hard it feels like his soul is trying to get out through his dick and it comes in waves, crashing again and again, harder, more, deeper, yes.

His body rolls in time with the possession of pleasure, leaving him slave to it, to love and all the messy goodness it makes with Lachlan Tanner, leaving him non-verbal and sinking him into the glittering drifts of a powerful afterglow.

Kade is drifting in water that gleams like diamonds, iridescent rainbows and prisms, no blue, not a trace of pale blue, and within, something curls with sated connection, and he knows he has to pay attention to the fact that he feels something he never has in this body before, but he can’t right now.

‘I love you,’ he’s saying. ‘I love you, Lachlan.’

‘I love you too, baby. God, I fucking love you so much.’

Their kiss is rose red.

It’s his favourite colour.