Page 45 of A Love So Deadly
Until I’ve learned the places where her blood likes to hammer the hardest…her clit and pussy lips, her wrists, her throat. It creates the sweetest song.
Now I touch. Not with my hands but with the rope. I trail her flesh with the edge of the rope, reading her movements more closely when the rope teases her most sensitive places.
I continue to circle her, taking my time to wrap her up, knotting the rope against her skin in multiple places and trailing my fingers over her as I go. I let her feel me pressed against her to make sure she knows, without words, that I expect her to obey.
She does. She lets me guide her, like living art. Her breath catches and releases, her body quivering. I position her, reposition, finding the right spot, letting her gain the pleasure of the stretch and the wait.
Then, sliding in behind her, I continue to bind her, wrapping the rope between her breasts and up, forming the harness. Her arms are pinned at her side and her hands are bound behind her, which allows me full access to her throat.
Hmm… My hunger grows. The beast within me is getting more and more difficult to hold back. I want to devour her. My entire being seems to vibrate with that need.
My lips skim down along her throat, over the rapid pump of her blood, the beat of her pulse. She whimpers.
The soft sound reminds me that I’m too close; it’s too tempting, so I step back. Without a word, I study the work I’ve done. The breast harness is perfection. The ropes constrict at the right pressure to make blood flow and her tits swell. Her nipples are extended, and I flick one to make her moan. They’re right at the point where I need them, where pain and pleasure blur into one.
I reach for another red rope, another new one, and I work it down through the breast harness to her waist and around her hips, upper thighs, until I have one tied all the way down to her left foot.
Tugging at it, I test one of the ropes. “Trust me?”
“Not at all, Lucy.”
“Is this something you want?”
“Yes…” Soft hiss of her breath is addicting, and I begin to stroke over her with my fingers, parting her lower lips and playing with her clit, her asshole, then the sensitive skin that’s still unbound on her inner thighs.
My nails trail up over her quivering belly, up over the ropes to worship her breasts, while my mouth dips down to take their place. Because I can’t quite keep them at bay, my fangs scrape over her nipples, enough to make her cry out and convulse.
Finally, after testing the ropes again, I thread the ends through the pulleys and hoist her in the air. She cries out.
Working quickly, I tie her one leg so that she’s left open, spread wide, with her pussy bared to me. My cock is so hard, it’s painful, and my pants are suddenly too tight.
I’m going to have so much fun ruining her.
I spin her until she faces me. She’s gasping, half lost in the drug of anticipation and lust when she says, “What…What are…”
Then she sees my eyes and the fangs I’m unable to conceal anymore.
“What am I?” I finish for her and smile. “As I asked you before, Ms. Montague. What do you think?”
Chapter
Fifteen
Elliot
He has fangs.
Fangs.
Things tumble forward and start to make sense out of the outrageous.It all slams into me, clocking me hard, making my breath whoosh from my lungs.
Him not eating food, working at night or late afternoons, the fortress feeling of the whole VMR complex… No light gets in, not once you’re through the lobby doors.
And then…
The blood drinking I saw in here.
His fucking picture.That old one. The one I thought was a relative.
