Page 169 of Obsidian and Frost
He needed help. Direction.
I eased my fangs from his wrist, licking my lips.Shit,it was something else.
But it still wasn’t enough. Not until I had him right there with me. I needed thathunger reciprocated, just like he’d pointed out.
And I guess, also seeing him so unsure harkened back to my first interactions with Sylas when I was in a similar situation. And I wouldn’t have done well with it if it hadn’t been for his incredible, patient, and careful guidance.
“Do what feels good to you,” I told him. “And I can tell you’re holding back, so know that not only does it take a lot to hurt me, but I can do with a little hurt too.”
“How can you know that I—”
“You’re like a powder keg of depraved desires and dark passion. It’s all over you. I noticed it a little that first feed, but now it’s screaming at me.” I smirked. “Twisted angel.”
He growled.
I growled right back.
His lips quirked.
And then he grabbed my biceps painfully and tossed me across the room.
I landed on the couch, and as I went to right myself, he was there in my space.
With a spark of his magic, he stripped my hoodie and tee off.
He climbed onto me, thrust his gouged wrist at me that was dripping all down his forearm. “More,” he half commanded, half pleaded.
Another flick of his magic and he had my jeans open.
Just as I sank my fangs back into his flesh, a sexy groan rumbling from him, he opened his own pants, then settled on me, straddling me.
I reacted on instinct, pulling my cock out, then he had me jolting as I felt his hard length bare against mine.
I went to look down, because he felt fucking huge, but he forced my chin up, then nipped and licked at it, making me throw my head back against the couch.
Sparks of pleasure shot through me as he ground his cock against mine.
Kind of awkwardly, as he struggled to find a rhythm, or the right way to angle himself.
He grunted and I reached out and closed my hand around us both, then roughly jerked him with me.
Those grunts turned to curses of bliss and long, drawn out moans of surrender.
He slapped his hand down on the couch beside my head, digging his fingers in as he rolled his hips and fucked into my hand, finding his way and chasing his pleasure, while escalating mine really fucking quickly.
With his other, he cupped my head and steadied me so I could draw deeper and sink into the feed.
“Harder,” he breathed.
I did as he asked and he shuddered all over.Mmm.
“Yes… wild one… hurt… hurt me.”
I squeezed our cocks harder, my jerking off becoming brutal as fuck.
And it just spurred him on. He slammed against me, his hand holding my head becoming awesomely painful and forcing me to keep ingesting and swallowing his euphoric blood over and over.
Hearing the sounds of him shattering as he climbed higher and higher, him being ruined by this fucked-up, depraved experience withme,took me over the edge much sooner than I was used to.
