Page 73 of Touched By Sin
With my eyes locked on Dariana, I lean in close to him and whisper, “I like my prey awake and screaming with fear.” I strike, tearing into his neck until it's in shreds. His terrified cries that echo through his apartment soon die down. Dariana is in fits of giggles. I spit out a thick lump of flesh, curling my finger at her. “You’ve got to stop playing me like that.”
She crawls forward, hips swaying, with a seductive, erotic smile. “I knew you wouldn’t really fuck him.”
My hand flies out and I grab her by the throat. “I don’t like that you had his cock in your mouth.”
Her dark eyes glitter beneath those long lashes. “I like this possessive side of you.”
Covered head to toe in blood, I crawl over the dead body, covering Dariana with mine. I fist her skirt in my hand and shove it up. Then I press my thigh against her pussy, slowly beginning to move on top of her. “You like that?”
“I like you covered in blood and gore.” As if to prove her point, she removes a shred of flesh from my hair. “You’re vicious.”
I grind against her, my hand wrapped around her slender throat. “I liked it.”
She whimpers, her lashes fluttering. Looking down at my naked breasts, she palms them and tweaks my nipples. “He’s bleeding out on the bed. We’re waisting blood.”
“I’ve had my fill,” I tell her. “Why don’t you feed.”
“I would, but you feel so good on top of me.” She lifts her head off the pillow and sucks my hard nipple between her teeth.
I lose myself in her for all of two seconds before climbing off. “Feed. I didn’t kill your prey for you so the mattress could soak it all up.”
As she settles over his body and begins to lap at the blood that trickles in a steady stream from his neck, I crawl up behind her and grab her ass. The scent of her pussy is everywhere, enticing me to hook my thumb in her panties and slide them aside so I can feast on her cunt.
She moans, spreading her legs wider and rocking back against me while I circle her tight entrance with my tongue. I suck on her soft, soaking folds, dragging my tongue from her clit to her anus. My hand slides over her ass, leaving a trail of blood in its wake as I tease her pussy with my crimson fingers.
“Dammit, I’m trying to focus on feeding here,” she laughs.
I slide two bloodied fingers inside her, watching them disappear into her slick heat. “Fuck, you’re so warm, tight, and greedy.” Leaning in, I sink my fangs into her ass, ignoring her fierce snarl. She can fucking take it! Pumping my fingers, I lap at the trickle of blood from the incisor wounds. My wings bump into the walls on either side of me, but I don’t care. I’m too busy feasting on her pussy.
That is, until the bedroom door flies open and three very angry angels tumble through. Dariana and I pop our heads up. What a sight we must be: Dariana feasting on a dead corpse while I’m eating her out from behind.
“Hi, boys.” She giggles. “Turns out our girl is a psychopath.”
“What the fuck?” Daemon bats my wing out of the way as he takes in the scene of me half naked, the dead guy with the floppy dick, and Dariana’s ass in the air. The chunks of flesh strewn here and there on the sheets.
“Damn,” chuckles Alaric. “We missed quite some party.”
Ignoring them, I lean back in and circle my tongue over Dariana’s throbbing clit. She’s an addiction, and I want more.
“Fuck,”she whimpers, pulling on the man’s short hair and dragging her tongue over the last trickle of blood on his neck. “Unfortunately, you’re too late, boys. We already drained him dry.”
“By all means, continue,” Alaric comments, flopping down onto the couch across the room that’s conveniently placed to offer a prime view of the bed.
Ronan chuckles on his way over and lowers himself down next to Alaric. “Daemon, man,” he calls out, “let the girls finish.”
Daemon’s footsteps retreat. I don’t care to check his anger levels, not now when I have Dariana’s pussy pressed up against my lips.
Priorities and all that.
ChapterTwenty-One
AURELIA
Aurelia…
I step out from the spindly trees, their branches reaching far and wide. My breath is visible in the air with every breath as the scent of fir and damp moss tantalizes my senses. My feet stop moving. There, in front of me, is the door, and it’s closed—an old wrought-iron key glows beneath the silvery moonlight.
As I take a hesitant step forward, the branches snap back into place. The silence that presses in around me is absolute.
