Page 96 of Our Sins in Silver (Coven of Sin 3)

Addiction

Thegrasssquishedbetweenmy fingers as I crawled over to Vincent on my hands and knees. I sat on my haunches, tipping my head to my dark fae, who was hunched over the stone crucifix. His gaze was so palpable, I felt it stroking my fever-hot skin. “Open for me, Princess.”

Again, I did as he asked and stretched my tongue out to catch the falling beads of his blood. He tasted faintly metallic and heavily of sin.

The rainfall turned from a moderate sprinkle to a heavy downpour, soaking us to the bone. The wind picked up, thrashing and howling.

This, whatever this dark chemistry was that pulled us together and roused the monsters within, was wrong. Even the elements seemed to admonish us for killing Lexi and whatever sordid sins we’d yet to commit.

Anyone else might have taken the storm as a sign of God’s displeasure or, more likely, in my case, Satan’s thumbs-up. Whether it was an act of a higher power or just plain creepy coincidence, I didn’t care. I couldn’t.

Vincent’s blood laced with mine, spreading through my veins and warming me like strong liquor. I’d never been drunk before, at least not from alcohol. But I’d seen on TV that it led people to make questionable choices. Especially Tequila, for some reason. Vincent’s fae blood was like the horse-tranquilizer version of that.

If I drank, it would knock me on my ass. Or—knowing that vampire blood was a powerful aphrodisiac—on my back.

My fingers clenched around the hem of my dress, twisting in the soaking fabric. Taking notice, Vin growled lightly, a cloudy plume of breath spiraling from his nostrils before the rain ate it away. “Hmm. Put those hands to use, Princess. Touch yourself.”

My hands flew to obey the male before my mind fully processed his words. The heat of my pussy was a shock to my fingers, which had gone numb and stiff from the cold. I slid more fingers over my slit than I’d normally opt for this early into playtime, sinking a few inside me in search of warmth.

I was already so slick with arousal, and Vin took notice almost the exact same moment I did.

“Fuck, I can smell how wet your cunt is.”

His brawny frame, with its bands of muscles, emanated the most dizzying warmth. I wanted to scoot closer, but I couldn’t twitch an inch. I wouldn’t remove myself from beneath the steady stream of his blood. In this moment, the unholy liquid was the center of my universe, satisfying starved parts of me that were rarely indulged. Parts that never got fed because of my human inhibitions holding me back.

I sunk lower, my knees spreading apart through the mud while my hand ground harder over my clit, circling, grinding, rubbing my flesh until the pain turned back to pleasure.

My arousal heightened, my search for more spiking to dangerous levels.

Vincent’s head canted while he watched me with the most vehement interest. My brutal mate made for some pretty outstanding bean-flick material, with how the remains of his t-shirt were sopping wet and plastered against his rain-slick, ink-covered skin.

“Do you wish it was me between your thighs, Princess?”

I couldn’t answer. If I moved my lips, I’d cut off the flow of his blood and make a mess all over my face. Something told me that’s exactly what he wanted, though. I responded with a throaty hum that came out more as a gurgle with all the blood I was sucking down.

He arched over his tombstone perch, leaning closer. I gulped at the caress of his hot breath. “I want to fill you with every drop I have to give. By the time I’m finished with you, I’ll have you leaking with me from every hole.”

My eyes clamped shut, and without meaning to, my mouth shut too. When his blood drizzled over my face, the ring of red around the black disks of his eyes grew thicker. “If only my brothers could see you now. On your knees in the mud, fingering your cunt while bathed in my blood.”

He retracted his arm with a snicker, and the wound fused shut within seconds.

My mind was in a flurry as I probed around for that pesky part of my brain that kept screaming how bad of an idea this was. When I found it, I snapped it in half. The voice went silent.

I opened my eyes and set all my focus on this hybrid male with my monstrous mate, still buried inside. I ran my tongue over my lips as I lapped up every trace of his blood before the rain could steal the precious liquid from me. I flashed my fangs, showing off the slow and deliberate movements of my tongue as my lips ran over their points.

Then I pursed my lips, wanting him to imagine how lovely they’d look wrapped around his cock.

His eyes never left my mouth, captivated by the way my tongue danced for him. Even with the moon at his back, casting his front in shadows, I caught sight of the bulge in his pants. He was getting the idea.

Hopping down from the stone crucifix, the ground squished beneath his boots, making obscene sounds with every step as he closed the distance between us.

He paused in front of me and gripped my jaw. He was so much larger than me that my chin swam in his palm.

“You really are the spawn of the devil, monster of mine. No other female could be so masterful at tempting me,” he drawled, rough and grating.

The male’s scent was thunder and lightning, with just a pinch of eternal damnation, laved over my skin. He was teasing me. Taking his sweet time. Irritation sparked in my belly. He’d lured this side of me out into the open, and now here he was holding out on me, still caught between his fae and vampire states.

“I don’t have all night,” I snapped. “Pick a hole and fuck it, or I’ll find one of my other mates to do the job.”

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