Page 97 of Nocturne

I look down between her legs and slowly pry her fingers away. My fingertips glide along the seam of her lips, the wetness pooled between her thighs driving me nearly mad. She lets out a soft moan, her breath warming the side of my cheek as I push one finger inside her. It’s just as I imagined: tight, warm, soft, and fucking perfect. Just like the groan she makes at my intrusion.

“Ahh, yes.” She mewls, her fingers digging deeper into the sheets.

I bend lower, biting her engorged nipple—just hard enough to elicit a response without waking her, yet firm enough to make her spine arch upwards. I add another finger, my thumb circling her bundle of nerves. Her free hand wraps around mine, gripping tightly as she continues to moan softly into my ear.

“Zagan, yes. Yes. Please,”

I let go of her nipple to lick my way to her collarbone, her soft jaw and the corner of her lip that tastes so fucking sweet that I cannot control the pressure with which I fuck her weeping pussy. She gasps loudly, her tongue sweeping out to lick her bottom lip where I had just nipped her. I trap it in my mouth, sucking on it as she sleepily rides my hand.

I can feel her walls contracting, and I push the pressure harder, thrusting faster after I find her spot. Ara moans into my ear, her hand clutching mine with enough force to leave deep, crescent grooves that bleed. If this is what it takes to feel her like this, I’d let her rip me open and drain me dry.

I’m mindful about not making any hard moves and not wanting to wake her up. For now, I’m content relishing in her soft moans and the dripping cunt. I relish knowing that she dreams about me owning her. I used to think her tinkling laughter was my favourite sound, until she moaned my name. Now, nothing else fucking compares.

She cums hard, a hoarse cry ripping from her throat, drenching my hand and the mattress beneath her.

She falls back into her sleep quickly. I shouldn’t be doing this, but that doesn’t stop me. It doesn’t stop me from moving her sheets and pulling her drenched and ruined blanket aside. Before I can stop myself, I’m kneeling between her legs, pushing them apart slightly.

Her sweet cunt glistens under the moonlight, and I don’t think I’ve seen anything more pretty or perfect. Her slightly swollen lips—which would look perfect fucked raw—and weeping pussy undoes me. Once the beast has unleashed, there is no stopping him. There is no stopping us from inhaling her sweet cunt deeplyinto our lungs, learning the smell of her essence, imprinting it deep into my mind.

A taste.

I am owed one fucking taste for giving the sweet little siren her orgasm. I’m owed one innocent lick for being the object of her desires she tries hard to resist. It wouldn’t hurt.

I start with the intention of a single taste, but I don’t stop. I cannot. She tastes divine, and her walls are eager to welcome me back in any form. They are equally excited about my tongue as I shove it in while they clam around it, making me resist groan out loud.

One day, very soon, she will be very much awake while I eat her out. She will scream, she will beg and thank me with her mouth before I finally feel these walls around my cock. Very soon. Very soon she will be walking with my marks all over her unmarred skin, baring the tattoo of my ownership.

Ara tastes divine. I’ve never gone down on a woman, never had the desire to. And it is fucking hilarious that the first time I do, the woman isn’t awake to witness it. In a way, it is an honour to be allowed this close to perfection that is her. It is an honour to be wanted by her, and I just know that this won’t be the last time I taste her.

She tastes addictive. I’m a starved man, and her pussy is like a fucking elixir that has been thrown into my lap, and I cannot get enough. It is an eclectic mix of something dark and mysterious. Addictive. I cannot stop until she moans in her sleep, her hands curling on her sheets, and she rides my face.

One of my hands keeps her legs parted while my other goes down to unzip my pants and stroke my painfully hard dick. Idon’t remember ever being this hard. I lick harder, controlling my movements based on the lively sounds she makes while I grip the base of my cock and give it a hard jerk.

I grip myself tight, imagining that it would compare at least to a small per cent of how her perfect pussy would feel like. Her moans are enough for me to carry on, my balls constricting tighter with every stroke. I move to her clit, sucking it into my mouth as she cries into the night, one of her hands going to keep my head there. Her grip on my hair as she tugs on it is painful, but the pain only makes me drive harder.

“Oh, Zagan, yes.”

Fuck.

I think my name on her tongue is the most fucking compelling thing ever.

When I tug her clit into my mouth and brush her G-spot, she comes again, the perfect curvy angel. My spine tingles, and my balls constrict as I come hard into my hands, staining the insides of her thighs with my seed, along with her juices. I kneel over her, watching and wondering how the fuck she is till asleep after she has come so hard twice.

Her thick, soft hair—my obsession, spills around her on the pillow. I push them out of the way with a gentleness that surprises me. Her mouth is slightly open as I move above her. Sweat beads her cheeks and forehead, and her cheeks and nose are flushed the prettiest shade of red. Her lips are too under-swollen for my liking without my kisses. Her neck looks too fresh, without my marks. Her eyes open slightly, glazed over with lust and sleep, and she looks up at me.

“Hey,” she greets, and I know she thinks this is all a dream.

And if I ever had a heart, I think it would skip a beat. But because in that place, there is nothing but an empty chasm, something dark settles in.

My hand goes to clasp around her neck, thumbing the pulse point between her neck and shoulder, pulsing madly under me. I put the barest pressure, feeling her life beating under my finger. I claim her life as mine; no matter how twisted it seems, it is mine to protect. Mine to take, mine to hold and own. The look she gives me as I take the mix of us both in her inner thighs and coat her lower lip sets something inside me lit. The obsession that has taken its roots strengthens, merging with the essence of my black soul when her pink tongue darts out to lick it and she hums deep from her throat.

With the way she openly gives me her control, trusting me with her life, they bear witness to the depravity she set in motion inside me.

“Mine,” the growl rips from my chest, the obsession behind it resonating with the beast that claimed her long back.

Her eyes widen for a second, but a lazy, sleep-filled smile stretches on her angelic face. She passes out with a smile on her face, unknown to the things she has set into motion from her acceptance to my depravity.

Twenty-Seven

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