Page 24 of Foretold

He pulls me back to the bed and straddles me, making sure not to put his full weight on me. “He told me he saved her because the Vampire King mistreats her.”

I shrug, looking away from those icy eyes that can see right into my soul. “Just repeating what I heard.”

Or saw, as it was.

He nods slowly. “Thank you for telling me.”

When he lowers his lips to mine, he gives me time to pull away. And I want to. However, the bond purrs its approval, and I find myself wrapped up in him. The kiss is gentle at first, testing, but it deepens into something else completely when I kiss him back. He kisses me like he’s starving, and I’m the only thing fueling him. It’s like our lips contain the answers to all life’s problems, and he’d rather give up oxygen than my mouth.

But his kiss still tastes like betrayal.

And like an apology, all mixed into one.

He lifts his shirt I wore to sleep in, paying attention to my breasts, kissing and sucking on the pebbled nipples before moving further south. He’s in a rush. Maybe he thinks I’m going to change my mind about letting him touch me, and who knows, maybe I will.

And then my panties are slid to the side, and his mouth is on my pussy, licking up and down my slit before circling my clit in a clockwise direction, causing my back to arch.

It’s been too fucking long, and I need this release.

I fucking deserve it.

Apparently, my body can’t hold a grudge as long as my mind can.

My fingers thread into his thick, dark hair, pulling on the strands as my hips reach up to him. Just as I’m about to come, he pulls away, lifting his head to look at me, his lips wet.

“Don’t stop,” I demand.

“Who do you belong to, Princess? I want you to say my nameas you come. Remember whose pussy this is,” he orders, and I bite my bottom lip, not wanting to give in to him, but also so fucking on the edge that my pride has taken leave. I feel tendrils of shadows twist around my body, pressure on my nipples, and what feels like a hand on my throat, making me so wet there’s nothing I wouldn’t say yes to right now. His lips and chin glisten with my wetness, and I’ve never seen a more erotic sight.

“You, I belong to you,” I call out, moaning as he lowers his face back to my sex and slides his talented tongue in all the right places. I’d say anything right now to get what I want, but that doesn’t mean my words should be trusted.

“Rave,” I whisper as I fall over the edge, pleasure hitting my core and extending all over my body. “Fuck.”

“That’s my good girl.” He growls against me.

Even after I’ve finished, he keeps going down on me, and I come again and again until it’s too much, and I push him away.

When he stands up off the bed, I see how hard his cock is through his tented pants, and I lick my lips, reaching out for him.

He takes a step back, heated eyes going back to my pussy. “That was just for you.”

“And I want your cock inside me,” I demand, reaching down to stroke myself as he watches.

“Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?” he asks, swallowing hard.

No, no, it does not.

“You think a few orgasms is all it’s going to take for me to forget what you did? Your tongue is good, Rave, but not that good,” I reply in a saccharine-sweet tone. “Now fuck me, or someone else will.Mate.”

I’m playing a very dangerous game here, and I know it, but I want the angry hate sex. I want him to fuck me hard, punishing us both for the mess we’ve got ourselves in.

For the fuck-up that is our relationship.

His eyes dilate, and he slides down his pants with an angry jerk, his perfect cock jutting out proudly in front of him. It’s long, hard, thick, and makes me almost forget I hate him.

Almost.

Without any warning, he straddles me, spreading my thighs and sheathing me with one smooth stroke, the bed shaking with his strength. He continues to fuck me ruthlessly, reaching between us to stroke my clit. I’m so wet I feel it dripping out of me and onto the sheets. My hips meet his with every thrust as I push back against him.

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