Page 55 of Bite
Sam lowers his head again, kissing down my neck, over my collarbone, across the slope of my chest. He takes his time, letting me acclimate to the sensation of being so exposed and on display. His hands are strong and sure, guiding me gently back onto the bed, my body sinking into the soft cushions as he arranges me to his liking.
The sheets are cool and silky against my skin, the room a blur of faces and candlelight and heat. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to focus on the feeling of his lips on my inner thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of my panties, the slow, deliberate way he’s teasing me open.
Then he slides my panties off, quick and easy, and buries his face between my thighs.
The first swipe of his tongue is soft, experimental, and I gasp, hips bucking into the sensation. His fingers sink into the soft flesh of my hips as he licks and sucks, teasing my clit with alarming precision.
He’s good, I’ll give him that– and if this were happening a week ago, I’d probably say he’s the best I’ve ever had. But I had James’ tongue between my thighs just last night, and now anything else pales in comparison to his expert touch. I’m hit with a pang of frustration and longing, knowing he’s watching, wishing it washimin Sam’s place.
I open my eyes, craning my neck just enough to see the couch. James is still sitting exactly where I left him, but now Sylvie has taken my spot at his side. Her dress is gone, her body a swath of flawless pale skin… and her hand is in his lap, wrapped around the base of his cock.
My brain short-circuits.
It’shuge– longer and thicker than I imagined, even given the size of the rest of him– and the sight of it in her grip makes my mouth run dry.
I watch as she lowers her head and takes him into her mouth, tongue flicking expertly along the underside. James’ hand sinks into her hair, fingers knotting at the base of her skull, guiding her with forceful pressure.
He’s not looking ather, though. His eyes are onme.
Our gazes lock, and a jolt of electricity shoots through my body, sizzling right where Sam is still working me over. I can feel the pace of his tongue, the way he alternates slow, teasing licks with fast, hungry flicks. It’s good– better than good– but it’s nothing compared to the way James’ gaze pins me to the mattress.
I can’t look away. I don’t want to.
Sam’s hand slides up, two fingers pressing inside me, crooking just so as he sucks my clit. The combination is enough to send me spiraling, and when I come, it’s with James’ name on my lips.
He sees it.Of coursehe does. James smirks, the barest flicker of satisfaction crossing his face as Sylvie doubles her efforts, bobbing her head faster, taking him deeper and deeper until her nose is pressed to his pelvis.
He lets her finish him, spilling down her throat with a guttural growl that I feel in my bones. She swallows, then pops off, licking her lips with a lazy, satiated smile.
“Thank you, my king,” she purrs, wiping saliva from the corner of her mouth with a thumb.
Sam pushes up to his knees, wrapping a hand around his cock and positioning himself between my thighs. I should say no, should stop this before it goes any further… but James is stillwatching, and I want– god, Ineedhis eyes on me right now more than I need oxygen.
Sam lines up, pressing the tip against me, but just as he’s about to push in, James is there.
He moves so fast I barely register it– just a blur of motion and a sudden firm grip on Sam’s shoulder. He tosses him off the bed like a ragdoll, something fierce shining in those piercing blue eyes as he gazes down at me.
“That’s enough,” James says, voice cold and final.
The entire room falls silent. Every face turns toward us, every pair of eyes wide and alert. For some reason whatever just happened feels big– important in a way I don’t quite understand.
“The party’s over,” James growls, eyes still locked on me. “Everyone out.”
Chapter
Eighteen
Before the room even clears, James is scooping me up off the bed with effortless strength, carrying me away bridal-style with a burst of speed. Air rushes past my ears, everything in my field of vision blurring into smears of color and candlelight. He’s up the stairs and in my room in seconds, depositing me in the middle of the bed. Not roughly, but not exactly gently, either– just firm, decisive. Like I’m a possession he’s reclaiming.
I catch myself on my palms, dress still hiked up around my hips, panties abandoned somewhere back in the lounge. My heart jackhammers against my ribs, head spinning. Adrenaline, mortification, and arousal collide while I try to process what the hell just happened.
James stands rigidly at the edge of the bed, a dark silhouette against the low light. His eyes are glacial, arms folded across his chest as if he’s holding himself back. Even the slow, controlled rhythm of his breathing is akin to a ticking bomb, each measured inhale a countdown.
I can’t take it– the silence, the scrutiny, the eerie calmness he’s exuding while my entire body’s sparking like a live wire and my skull feels as if it might detonate. I can practically tastethe tension in the air, the metallic tang of restraint scalding my tongue.
It feels like I’ve done something wrong; like that scene in the lounge was a test I failed. But if it was, it’s his own damn fault, and I refuse to take the blame for boundaries that he never even set.
Ozzy pounces onto the bed and hisses fiercely at James, who brandishes his fangs in response. The kitten jumps back in fright, leaping from the bed with another hiss and darting toward the door. James follows him with a burst of speed, slamming the door behind Ozzy so hard that the hinges rattle. Then he zips back over to the bed, chest heaving as his eyes land on me.
