Page 7 of Hollyhocks

I want to feed off his desire. More than that, I want to claim him. I’m not sure what that entails but it’s the only word bouncing around in my head right now.

Claim.

Own.

This man ismine. From the tips of his shaggy chocolate brown hair to the freckles across his cheeks and nose, to every divot and valley that showcases his muscles, everything belongs to me.

My beasts push against my bones wanting free so we can find him and make him ours. The tentacles slip from my pussy, reaching for him to feed from his desire, to drink his come, and I begin to throb with need everywhere.

My skin begins to feel similar to how it did when I was strapped to the table. Only this time, instead of burning pain, there’s explosive desire. Even the wind grazing my skin has me slipping my hand between my legs.

“Mate,”one of my creatures whispers into my mind.

The word echoes in the cavity of my body, my blood yearning to bind itself to him, my fangs aching to sink into his flesh, and my hole pulsates with the need to be filled by his cock.

Would he be thick like I crave? Not too long, I hope. I find giant cocks overrated because they hurt. I don’t want to feel pain when I fuck.

Yet I find myself wanting to inflict it. Maybe my mate will like a little pain with his pleasure.

If I’m lucky.

This stranger possesses my mind again, yet this time, it’s as if I’m lying next to him, face to face, and I’m able to see the gold flecks in his light brown eyes. They are big, wide, and wonderous. His lashes are dark and long and have the right amount of curl.

Immediately, I see the innocence in them, the kindness, and then he smiles as he laughs.

He has dimples.

Goddamn it, I’m a sucker for dimples.

I can’t wait to dip my tongue into them. I want to lick every inch of this man’s body so every cell inside me memorizes his flavor.

My tentacles curl up, inserting themselves in my pussy, fucking me like I crave. I wish it were him filling me, stretching me, causing me to gasp and moan. I rub my clit in hard, quick circles, imagining him asleep as I climb on top of him.

I’ll invade his dreams, morphing them into wet, needy, unholy thoughts until he is hard. He’ll leak precome and my cunt will be there to drink every last drop of him.

I’ve fed from dozens of creatures in Purgatory but now I don’t want anyone else except the man who is taking over my mind. My throat becomes dry needing his come to coat my taste buds and quench my thirst.

Another image bombards me just as I moan to the clouds, completely forgetting where I’m at, and it’s him again. This time, he’s wearing a shirt—pity—that says Snapdragons Garage, and right under it is his name.

Fitz.

It suits him. He grins at someone. Someone who isn’t me and a murderous rage builds inside me.

What is he thinking, smiling at anyone and everyone? So much killing to do.

That smile belongs to me.

His happiness is mine.

And anyone who gets in the way of that will meet the wrath that has been building in my blood for months.

“Fitz—” I gasp his name as an orgasm sweeps over my body. My muscles tense and my wings flatten behind my back which has me cascading to the ground quicker. The river is becoming too close too fast. I’m riding out my orgasm still, my wings refusing to cooperate.

I can’t help it. Just the thought of Fitz feels so good. I’ll happily risk my life every day if it means getting to see him—even if he only lives in my mind.

The river is roaring so loud, the water rushing with angry waves eager to swallow me, and my wings spread out just in time.

I flip to my stomach to get the wind under me and drag my fingers along the surface of the river.

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