Page 45 of Our Sins in Shadows (Coven of Sin 2)

I let out another low feminine purr, and the male returned it this time, the delicious sound rolling against my thigh where he licked.

The plan was working. The pain he’d inflicted from my wrist, and the asphyxiation seemed to give him strength enough to be in the moment with me.

He held up two fingers for me to see, a brutish grin twisting his lips, wrapped in strips of harsh light and shadow.

Because of the magic compelling him, he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. I could practically hear him saying,“guess what I’m about to do with these, Princess?”

My entire body turned to liquid as I watched Vincent shove his fingers into his mouth. Salvia oozed from his fangs, soaking the thick digits.

I gulped hard, all the moisture from my mouth sinking straight to the place where he crouched as I took in the obscene display of his pursed lips sucking his fingers. His dark and decadent glare held mine as he extracted his fingers from his mouth and held them over me. A whine leaked from my throat when his spit dripped over my thighs and arousal-soaked folds.

The breathy whine turned to a sharp gasp when he suddenly grabbed my leg by my inner knee, and raised it into the air, spreading my pussy open for him.

The audience murmured its excitement at the sight of me. I wasn’t sure how deeply Vincent was buried inside himself. Either way, this version of him was still territorial over me, by the way he tipped his head up to the balcony and unleashed a feral roar.

Everyone went dead quiet.

Not even Dagon dared to utter another command.

Vin snapped his attention back to me, so in control of this moment while remaining completely unhinged. He was walking a path between Dagon’s influence and his own and it made the experience of being spread out for him—not knowing his next move—an intense experience.

His spittle-drenched fingertips trailed through my folds, rubbing my center with a firm and possessive touch.

My breath hitched with anticipation as he came so close to the point of spearing me on his fingers. But he circled my opening, danced around my aching clit,teasingme.

A little knot of need balled at the base of my spine, so tight I thought I might break.

It wasn’t just a matter of wanting this man inside me, to reach the climax of my fucked up love affair with the feral king. I needed the relief a male like him could give. My hunger for him went way beyond normal levels of horny. It was the same sort of inexplicable magnetism that I’d experienced with Sterling that night in his tower, only three times more intense. And just like before, something clawed at my insides, trying to tear out of me. Something that had never reached the surface before.

Somethingbig.

And it scared the hell out of me.

“Please, baby. I need more of you.” My voice came out swollen and husky with the agony his teasing inflicted.

He grunted, his lips stretching into that hellish grin.

Feral loved it when I begged. Even this primal version seemed to lap up the soft curves of my bare, blood-drenched body, and my fertile scent that probably had to be the equivalent of fresh-baked cookies at an open house; Inviting and incredibly tempting.

So when his fingers skimmed past my entrance, missing their mark, I let out a deep, annoyed snarl. “Give me more you fu—Oh!” My head slammed back into the pillow, stars dotting my vision as his fingers dipped into the taut ring of muscle in my darkest place.

Vincent’s dick twitched against my thigh, pulsating and throbbing hot at the sound of my scream.

“Y-you sadistic f-fuck,” I said, the weight of insult diminished by the pleasure-laced mewls spewing from my lips.

My fists knotted into the bedsheets.

Thanks to Eros and our time in our holding cells, this wasn’t the first time I’d taken a man up the ass. But that had only been one finger. Vincent had jumped straight to two. And my body relished every single inch of him.

It wanted everything he had to give.

Bloody hell. It felt good, too good. Not enough pain. Too much bliss. He’d have to do better than this if we had any hope of tapping into his fae form.

Vincent hunched down, muscles flexing in his back as he covered my opening with his mouth—hiding that portion of me from most of the audience—and pushed his tongue inside my slick heat.

From that fateful night when Vincent Feral’s red eyes had appeared in the slot used to push food into my room, there had been a gravitational pull, begging us to touch. Our initial hatred for one another made that connection dangerous, and oh so intoxicating. We finally found our way to one another, not by dousing that fire that always seemed to burn between us. We’d given into the flames, letting it consume us so we might be born from the ash, together.

This was the heart of the fire, burning bright and hot between us, making my skin burn and my body writhe in hellish ecstasy.

---