Page 23 of Insatiable

I didn’t move, heart pounding as I watched his expression shift. Slowly, his chest heaved, a breath catching in his throat. And then—tears. Tears welled in his dark eyes, glistening in the dim light, trailing down his face in silent disbelief.

The Creeper dropped to his knees before me, his body hitting the floor with a low thud that echoed across the room. He wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me close, resting his head against my stomach, as if seeking comfort.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Why would you do this... for a monster like me?”

Tears filled my own eyes as I gently touched his head, fingers threading through his hair. His question shattered something inside me, broke through every barrier I had left. I bent slightly, my voice soft but steady. “Because,” I murmured, my breath shaky, “humans... they’re the real monsters. With you, I’ve never felt more at peace. With you, I feel safe. In some fucked-up way.”

His grip tightened, claws gentle against my skin. His body trembled as he looked up at me, disbelief and awe filling his gaze, as if he couldn’t understand how this connection was real.

His cracked lips pressed reverently against my hands, kissing them like they were sacred. First my palms, then my wrists, the contact soft, trembling. Slowly, he worked his way up my arms, leaving a trail of warmth, all while never breaking eye contact.

"Rose...” he said my name, rough and broken, sending a shiver through me. It wasn’t hunger anymore—it was something deeper, something raw and desperate, as though I had given him something he didn’t even know he needed.

I watched, breathless, as he pressed his forehead against my stomach again. The sheer weight of his body kneeling before me, trembling with emotion, made my heart ache. It was worship. There was no other word for it.

I straddled his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, feeling the solid strength beneath me. His erratic heartbeat thudded against my chest as my hands slid to his broad shoulders, grounding myself.

His wide, searching eyes traced my face as though memorizing every inch. His hands rested on my waist, holding me as if afraid I might disappear. There was fear in his gaze—fear of breaking whatever fragile connection we had forged.

I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear, my breath warm against his skin. “Take what you need,” I whispered, steady and sure.

The Creeper shuddered, his breath hitching as he closed his eyes. Then, with slow reverence, he leaned forward. His mouthfound my breast, lips parting as he latched on. He began to drink.

The sensation was overwhelming. I gasped, my body trembling as he suckled, his hands tightening on my waist, pulling me closer. The heat of his mouth, the soft pull of his lips—it was intimate in ways I hadn’t expected, raw and primal. Each slow, deliberate suck sent waves of warmth through me.

His tongue flicked over my nipple, teasing, and I whimpered, my fingers tangling in his hair. The way he drank wasn’t frenzied—it was controlled. The Creeper drank deeply, but it was more than feeding. It was something sacred.

The tenderness in every pull, the way he cradled me as if I were precious, sent shivers down my spine. My breath came in soft gasps, my body quivering beneath his touch, but there was no fear—only this strange, beautiful connection. I could feel it in the way he looked at me, the way he touched me like I was offering something vital, something he had long craved.

The Creeper moaned softly against my breast, the sound vibrating through me. Though primal hunger fueled his touch, it carried an almost reverent quality. He suckled with quiet urgency, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes over my sensitive skin.

I moaned, my hand cupping the back of his head, pressing him closer. My nipple, swollen and tender, responded to every pull. The soft flick of his tongue, the way he nipped and sucked, sent waves of pleasure through me.

It wasn’t just feeding—it was worship. The way his hands moved over my body, careful but possessive, the way he held me as if I were something to be cherished, made my heart race.

Ileaned close, lips brushing his ear, my breath shaky. “Creeper,” I whispered. His body tensed, trembling, as a shiver ran through him at the sound of his name. His hands slid up my back, pulling me impossibly closer, his breath ragged against my skin.

The connection was overwhelming. There was no turning back. Not now.

He pulled back slightly, his mouth releasing my nipple with a soft, wet sound. He looked up at me, his eyes wide, glistening with something unspoken. His lips, swollen and wet, parted as he gasped softly, as if he couldn’t believe what had just passed between us.

I ran my fingers through his hair, brushing his tear-streaked cheek. “You’re not a monster,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against my chest. I felt the tremor that ran through him, the way his arms tightened around me like he never wanted to let go. For a moment, the world was quiet—just the two of us, tangled in something neither of us could explain.

He let out a mirthless laugh. “You see the good in people,” he rasped. “Even in monsters. Why?”

I swallowed, the answer coming to me before I had a chance to think. “Because... everyone deserves a chance to be seen,” I said softly. “Even the ones who’ve lived in the dark.”

For a long, quiet moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes searching mine, and without another word, he pulled me into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around me like he was afraid to let go.

But something shifted inside me—a thought crashing through the haze. Katie. I had forgotten about her, unconscious in this nightmarish hellscape. My heart lurched, panic gripping my chest. I stiffened, pulling away from him, my mind now racing.

“Katie,” I whispered, voice cracking with fear. “She’s good. My best friend. She doesn’t deserve this.”

The Creeper’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, dark and unreadable, but something like hesitation passed through them. For the first time, I saw a flicker of understanding. He knew what I was asking, what I needed.

“She’s everything good,” I pleaded. “You don’t have to hurt her. Please.”

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