Page 55 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

Wants to put her mouth on me, her tongue, her body.

My hips jerk at the thought, seeking the heat of her mouth.

“I’ve never—” She chews her bottom lip, her hand giving me an experimental squeeze.

Lyra could sit there, just as she is, not moving a single inch, and it would still be more than enough to send me over the edge. I’m not sure if that says more about me or her.

But I can tell she’s nervous, and I know exactly what makes those nerves disappear. Reaching into my pocket, I quickly pull out the switchblade, clicking it open.

The sound makes my cock twitch, and she gasps.

“You never what? Let someone fuck your mouth?” I murmur, one hand coming down to stroke her hair out of her face. “That’s what you’re going to let me do, isn’t it? Shove my cock into this sweet hole and use it up?”

Lyra nods eagerly, that pink tongue sliding across her lips, dying to taste me but unsure how to begin. I curl my hand around the sharp blade. The bite is quick, burns for only a second before blood rushes to the surface.

I look at the pool of crimson in my hand before returning my gaze to the floor.

“Open,” I order.

Her mouth does just that, pink tongue sticking out, waiting for whatever I plan to do next. Pride swells in my stomach. How she trusts me this much with a knife, I’ll never understand.

Setting the knife down, I bring my hand down, holding it just above her face before tilting it sideways. The stream of blood trickles from my palm, suspended in the air for only a moment before it drips into her mouth.

Filthy, pretty words make her melt her nerves away, and blood excites her so much that it’s impossible for her to worry about anything else.

A complex, macabre fetish.

It’s exhilarating to bleed for another person, willingly giving them the fluid that keeps you alive. It courses through the chambers of your heart, and to give another person access to that is potent.

Red dots coat her tongue, spilling over her lips and dripping down the curve of her chin. I’m painfully hard, watching her drink it down. The way she swallows, I’m so very jealous that I can’t watch my blood pour down her throat, can’t see the way it paints the inside of her with me.

This is my new favorite shade of red.

“Good girl,” I praise, tilting my head a bit. “So pretty covered in my blood. Absolutely fucking divine. I’m going to use you up, feel your throat struggle to fit my cock, and watch as you choke on my come. And you’re going to let me, yeah?”

Her response comes in the form of her tongue dragging along the vein that runs on the underside of my shaft, tracing it all the way to my engorged tip, which is leaking precome. It’s a dream watching her lick at my throbbing head, painting me with my blood.

“Yeah, you are,” I confirm, staring at the reddish-pink lines on my dick. “Because you’re desperate for my come, aren’t you, pet? I bet if I lift that skirt, I’ll find you soaked for me. That pitiful, aching pussy is jealous of your mouth, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her knees falling further apart. One hand strokes me, more confident in herself, while the other flips her skirt up, showing the purple lace panties beneath, giving me a full view of how badly she craves me. How desperate that cunt of hers is. I hum my approval, chest heaving as my breathing becomes more irregular.

The unmistakable warmth of her bloody mouth enveloping the first few inches of my cock makes me weak. Her hollow cheeks, trying to narrow around me, give me a similar sensation to what it feels like when I sink into her tight pussy.

“Fuck me.” The groan is ripped from the back of my throat, clawing its way out. I drop my head back against the shelf, knocking over several items behind me.

They clash and clank against the ground, but all I can think about is fucking her, burying myself inside of her for hours and hours, knowing I’d die if I left. I would live in her body.

Her movements are shaky, unsure of how far to go and what to do with her tongue. But I’m so overcome by lust I can’t stop myself from shoving forward, sending my length into her waiting mouth with one thrust. I want all the way inside; I need my cock completely covered by her.

I expect her to gag or struggle, but the further I go, the more she takes. She makes a swallowing motion with her throat, and it makes my knees buckle.

No gag reflex?

Testing my theory, I press until the head of my cock touches the back of her throat, a few inches of my shaft still exposed, and instead of coming up for air, Lyra twists her hand around the part of my cock that doesn’t fit.

“Shit,” I hiss, looking at her lips spread open around me, diluted blood splattered across the bridge of her nose. “You want more? Does my pathetic, needy girl want more?”

Lyra nods, pulling back and swirling her tongue around my sensitive tip before sinking back down. I’m enveloped by her. The feel of her mouth, her smell, her hands. I’m standing above her, but she’s got me like putty in her hands.

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