Page 34 of Bathed in Blood

Her pleases always hit their mark. How could I not give her everything when she asks so prettily?

My fingers find their way to her soaked core, teasing and prodding at her opening. She’s lost to it, her eyes pinching shut as she focuses on trying to catch the spark she needs to implode. Her arousal drips down my fingers, her hands knotted in my hair, trying to guide my mouth lower. As lovely as my princess tastes, I have other plans.

“Christian.”

“I’m here, princess, right here.” With that, I bite again, my teeth scoring her breast as she cries out. I sink my fingers into her, curling them until her whimpers turn to moans. I watch as the venom bleeds back into her, letting her take what she needs as she fucks herself down on my fingers, grinding her clit against my palm. Her flesh is angry and raised when I release her again, taking a nipple instead. My togue lashes the bud, making her moan, each rough tug she gives me only driving me deeper.

She grinds and moans, takes wildly. Fuck, I can’t look away from her, my own cock in a sorry state of need straining against my zipper. The set lights cast her red hair like a fire halo above her head, her breasts heaving as she grinds down. When her body jerks, her mouth parts on a silent scream, coming apart, her arousal soaking my fingers. If I could freeze this moment, I would.

She gasps as I halt my assault on her nipples, extracting my fingers and popping them in my mouth, her sweet, tangy flavor pushing my control harder. Her little tongue darts out, wetting her lips, reminding me sharing is caring.

There’s no slow build, no gentle crescendo of need and desire.

My hand captures her jaw, slamming her into me. It’s teeth, tongue, and insanity. It's everything.

Lana is everything.

She’s mine.

The jacket of my suit hits the ground with the thud, my buttons creating a faint symphony to narrate around it as shetears at my shirt, as desperate for me as I am her. That idea only eggs me on. I don’t pull her from me, her togue twirling with mine in a frenzied dance as I jerk the gun from my holster, opening my eyes long enough to aim it at a camera. “Anyone who watches this will be in this room next.”

I discard the gun, making quick work of the rest of my clothes. Lana backs away, panting. She’s gorgeous, sin personified, her body filling out beautifully with regular meals, her hair shining. When those eyes land on mine, the intermission ends, and my hands grip her waist, the other hiking her leg up, hitching it around my waist.

She gasps as my cock lines up with her entrance, the head teasing her wet slit, her hips shunting as she fights for the tip. I don’t give it, though, not yet. Instead, I run my length between her soaked thighs, coating myself in her arousal. My cock weeps, begging to be inside her. “Are you ready for my cock, sweet princess?”

She moans as I line myself up again.

“Words, princess. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck your little cunt.”

I need to hear your voice.

“Bad. I need it. I need you to take it.”

“Tell me you’re mine.” I groan past the words, slipping the head of my cock inside her. She’s fucking tight, and already, her hips grind down, wanting more, but I hold her steady, my fingers digging into supple flesh.

“Please, please fuck me.”

My eyes dart down to the symbol underneath my palm, jealousy flaring in my chest. It flows over before I can get a grip on it. Lana cries out as I bury myself inside her in one violent thrust, her walls clenching around my cock, smothering it in the best way. “Tell. Me. You’re. Mine.”

I punctuate each word with another thrust, her pretty eyes rolling back in her head, her moans hitting a decimal I hadn’t thought possible, merging with screams. “You want… fuck, oh my fucking God.”

“Close, but I prefer Christian, princess. Now, tell me you’re mine.”

Fuck, she feels so good. Her nails score my back and neck, marking me again for her. Her cunt spasms, clinching and gripping me.

“You—" she screams as I grip her other thigh, lifting her up and holding her against me as I pump into her.

“I, what? Belong to you?” What a bizarre time to have butterflies.

“God, God, don’t fucking stop,” she pleads.

I’ll pretend like I could if I wanted to.

“You’re not listening, princess.” I fuck her harder, her beautiful, palm sized breasts heaving as I move her until her back hits something. Anything. A sick smirk fills my face as I realize it’s him. The rigging jostles as I pin my princess to the dead man’s chest, grinding my cock around while it’s buried to the hilt, catching her clit in the way she needs. If she won’t say yes, I’ll ensure she can’t say no at least. Hearing it from her lips would be preferred, but I’ll take what I can get.

For now.

When I reach between us, pinching her nipple, she screams my name, her head pitching backwards to rest on the man’s bloody shoulder, her wild red hair tangling in the Heretics Fork. It's only a shade lighter than his blood, and fuck, she’s stunning.

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