Page 45 of Mongrel
“I think you know it is.”
Bowie’s smirk sends a pool of warmth to my core. My cock is hard between my thighs. His squirming on my lap feeds my ardor. I wonder if he’s hard too. The way he’s sitting, I can’t quite feel that part of him.
“Shall I open a vein myself, or would you prefer to bite me?”
Oh, moon and stars above, I fear I might pass out from the rush of exhilaration his words inspire. “You’d let me bite you?”
“Gladly.” He arches his elegant neck, tilts his head to allow more access, and leans in.
Ah.There’s his cock, hard as steel against my abdomen. I want to put my mouth on it, but his throat beckons first.
Bowie has my biceps in his tight grip. Wrapping my arms around him, I slide my hands up his curved back. My mouth waters as I take his flesh between my teeth.
I hesitate. I don’t want to hurt him. Animals squeal when bitten, but I only want to give Bowie pleasure.
He reads my mind. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “I’ll like it.”
I trust him and sink my incisors through his skin into muscle. He quivers against me. I hold him tighter until he settles with a needy groan. Blood hits my tongue, both familiar and altogether different. A spicy burst of copper, salty and thick, trickles down my throat and along with it an infusion of power zings through my veins, tensing my muscles and rushing to my head.
My body is on fire, and all I want to do is burn. Bowie gently pulls his flesh from my mouth and replaces it with his lips. He licks his blood from my teeth and feeds it back to me with his tongue.
Thunder roars, reverberating around us. The air is fizzy and charged. We feed off it, rife with energy, passing vitality back and forth with each deepening kiss. It’s almost unreal, making me feel drugged or drunk; I don’t know which, as I’ve experienced neither.
Bowie clings to me, speaks into my ear, “The blood affects people differently. I’ve got you.”
Never let me go.I meant to say it aloud, but I don’t think I managed. My lips are tingling like they’ll go numb. Feels amazing when he kisses me again.
I grow lightheaded, my mind dizzy with pleasure, with the possibilities between us. My limbs feel heavy. I’m buzzing. The world grays and turns black at the edges.
Bowie strokes my face. “There, there, that’s good. Don’t fight it.”
Don’t fight what? I’m not fighting anything. I’m loving you.
“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.”
Sleep? No—I want…
Chapter 15
Leaving dreams of passion and kisses behind, I come aware gradually. If I squeeze my eyes shut, perhaps dream-Bowie will continue his tender caresses. But it’s too late. I’m awake, and the real Bowie feels just as nice, pressed against my back, his arm slung over my waist.
That’s the only nice thing, though. The ground is hard, my hip is sore, and this cellar stinks of damp onion. I roll over to find he’s already awake.
“Good evening,” he says with a warm smile.
In lieu of words, I take his lips instead. Gentle kisses, which he accepts with a pleased sigh. I slip my hand into his hair, relishing its silken softness against my palm, and push it behind his ear, then follow the length of it down his back. Such beautiful hair and never a tangle. I can’t believe I’m allowed to touch it.
The urge to deepen the kiss and explore him further is hard to resist. But the sun is nearly down, and we have a mission to complete. I lean back to look at him, needing to know what happened before we slept. One moment, I was so high on his touch I feared I might come from kissing alone, and the next, I passed out.
“How are you?” He returns the favor and strokes my mess of wild hair away from my face. My ears twitch, seeking his touch. Somehow, Bowie knows this and scratches them for me. His nails on my scalp work little miracles with each pass.
Before answering, I take stock of my body. I’m a little stiff from sleeping on the stone ground, but the exhaustion from the distance we traveled is entirely gone. My feet and hands feel fine. My bruised arm isn’t the least bit sore. Apparently, Bowie works large miracles as well.
“I feel good.” Stretching against the length of him, I continue my assessment. “Like new. How did you do that?”
“It wasn’t me. Just the blood.” He wraps an arm around me and draws me in. Our legs tangle to make this position work.
“Well, it’syourblood. I’d say that counts. But why did I faint?”
