Page 100 of Bite
I can’t help it– I look for the coffin.
He follows my gaze and laughs. “What were you expecting, little mortal? Velvet drapes? Candles? Maybe a portrait of myself over the mantel?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised,” I admit, smirking.
He leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You want to see the coffin?”
My stomach flips. I whirl toward him, wide-eyed.
He laughs– a real, unrestrained sound that shatters the moment’s tension. We’re so close that I can feel it vibrate through me, and a breathless giggle escapes before I can stop it. I tilt my head up and find his gaze waiting, molten. Then he claims my mouth in a filthy hot kiss. His hands find the small of my back, then my hips, then the sides of my face. He kisses like he’s memorizing me, mapping every nerve for later detonation.
When he finally pulls back, I’m dizzy, my lips swollen. “So,” I manage, voice a little wobbly. “How does this work? The bond? Is it a ritual or something?”
James traces a thumb along my jaw, then tilts my chin up. “It’s not that complicated,” he murmurs. “As far as I understand, we just share blood.” His mouth curves, slow and wicked. “Butfucking you while doing it would make itimmenselymore enjoyable.”
A shiver rolls through me.
“We don’t have to rush into anything you’re not ready for,” he adds, eyes searching mine.
“I’m ready,” I say, meaning it with my whole chest. “For everything.”
His pupils flare, swallowing the blue, thumb dragging over my lower lip. “You sure?”
I nod, pulse ticking in my throat. “No holding back.”
James sweeps me into another kiss, then backs me toward the bed. His hands are everywhere, exploring my body like a map he’s studied a thousand times but still finds new roads in. He peels off my sweatshirt, then my bra, cupping my breasts in his palms. His thumbs circle my nipples until I shiver. My jeans come off with a single, fluid yank. He drops to his knees, lips at my hipbone, tongue tracing the seam of my underwear before easing them down and off.
His eyes trace every inch of me with an intensity that makes me squirm. I’m naked, but I don’t feel exposed. I feelseen.
James stands and steps back, as if to let the view sink in even further. He’s still in his sweatpants, but his hard-on is obvious, tenting the dark fabric. He watches me with his head tilted, like he can’t decide whether to pounce or kneel.
Instead, he turns and opens a drawer built into the bench at the foot of the bed.
“Tell me, darling,” he murmurs, glancing back at me over his shoulder. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I answer breathily.
He produces a length of black silk, a blindfold, then a set of leather cuffs. Next comes a crop and a paddle. The sight of the implements should make me nervous, but instead a fierce excitement roars up inside me. I’ve never experimented withbondage or impact play, but with him, I’m eager to try. Honestly, there isn’t much Iwouldn’ttry with him.
James circles behind me, the weight of his stare like a caress. He ties the blindfold around my eyes, and the world dissolves into darkness. Then he brings me over to the bed, guiding me to kneel in the center. The mattress is soft, my breathing unsteady. He fastens the cuffs around my wrists, then brings them together behind my back. A pause follows, then the soft brush of his lips on my nape.
“You can stop me at any time,” he rasps.
“I won’t,” I promise.
“Don’t push yourself further than you’re comfortable with,” he replies sternly. “If you need to stop, or even just slow down, saymercy.”
I nod like a bobblehead, the sensory deprivation already making me weak with arousal.
“What’s your safe word, Taylor?” James asks in a low voice.
“Mercy,” I whisper.
“Good girl.”
His praise floods through me like a pulse of light, eliciting another shiver. He moves around me, unseen but felt in every breath and every subtle shift of the mattress. Each moment stretches, drawn thin with expectation. Every sound, every brush of air, becomes its own kind of intimacy.
He traces my spine with his tongue, then with the flat of his palm, pressing me down until my cheek rests against the silk sheets. I’m breathless, my heart roaring, every nerve ending sparking.
