Page 45 of Devour

Blank expression. Overwhelmingly exhausted and not even a hint of enthusiasm.

Or maybe I’ll take my pants off and let you ride me right here.

Still nothing.

“Hear the music still?”

“No.”

“So, what was I thinking instead?”

“Nothing,” he sighed.

“Very good.”

His head snapped right up at that.

“Come here.”

And when I say he crawled over at an inhuman speed and even manner—whew, borderline nightmare fuel. Only, I knew how hungry he was, which made him desperate, and his desperation always gave me the slightest advantage. Rhory straddled my lap and whipped himself forward while he took a deep inhale.

“I’m so proud of you,” I whispered in his ear. His whole body shivered atop me like he got a chill, so I dipped a hand under his shirt at the hem and slid all the way up his bare back.

Rhory panted hard before I only got the clicking teeth in response.

“Go ahead.”

His teeth sunk in near my shoulder without hesitation and his hips snapped forward while bucking furiously. At one time, I never would’ve been able to handle him grinding in my lap. Even though Rhory still got me hard, and even though every pass of his bulge against mine made my body tingle until goosebumps erupted, the discomfort of the bite was enough that I couldn’t enjoy myself. And when the pain dulled, so the pleasure threatened to creep in, all I had to do was whisper, “Harder.”

* * *

RHORY

Never before had I been so acutely aware of how lucky I was that my hubby was not a sadist. After days of borderline torture and the most satisfying feed I had to date, I got a literal (happy sigh) pat on the head and the promise he would never do that again. So long as I stayed out of his head when he asked, which, of course, meant he would extend me the same courtesy. With that, I will begrudgingly admit he was right, only this once. Even though our mental link remained switched on, at least I could tune out his endless worrying or kick him out of my headspace when feeling some feelings.

While I could still tap into other people at will, our link was extraordinarily different. The advantages were plenty and now, with moderation, all the benefits could outweigh the inconveniences. Hubs could privately converse with me whenever and wherever, regardless of distance.

What could have easily ripped us apart brought us closer again. Our mental exchanges still occurred the most often late at night in bed, when we simply didn’t feel like having a vocal conversation. But it was also fun to let hubby know how badly I wanted his cock when I knew he was busy presiding over Mass. Heh. Yes, I could also be as evil as him.

I also started spending a lot more time with hubs. Like a lot. Being with each other for days at a time and including overnights, a lot. And not even for snacks, but only to see his evil face. Sigh. Gaia was probably right. I was a dumbfuck. I got such meager relief from any other source, I all but gave up feeding elsewhere aside from passively filling. Devastating to admit, but pursuing random encounters was not worth the time nor energy.

Plus, the idea of firsthand with others bothered hubs. He didn’t say it, and he didn’t forbid it, but I knew he didn’t like me fucking around and he managed by not thinking about it. And if he did, well, that always got him grumpy, without fail. I was no saint, either. I’d piss on his leg if that’s what it took to keep others away, human and otherwise. Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that. I continued having him all to myself.

Today, we were finally going to Em’s wedding after her being engaged to that guy for what—two or three years? Longer? I never bothered to remember these things, usually. Hubby was lucky I remembered his birthday each year—mostly because it marked another year until I could eat him.

Hubs and I were both invited separately to Em’s wedding, but pretending we were going together as each other’s date was fun. Especially since most people in attendance knew neither of us. Also, we needed something fun to help us get through this ceremony and reception. Em was marrying the idiot, which meant we would force ourselves to talk to him at least once. Actually, I should ask hubby to remind me of his name. We called him “the idiot” so much, I feared I’d say it aloud merely out of habit.

Garrett.

Right, the idiot aka Garrett, was marrying Em at some golf course or country club type place. Somewhere swanky that required member dues. Hubby cleaned up real nice, and I made a mental note of him wearing a suit for the next time we decided to torment ourselves with our thoughts. I should pause here and describe that better, but I won’t. All I’ll say on the topic was our mental equivalent to sex combined one part fantasizing, and one part role play. Since our exchange occurred solely in our heads, our favorite game provided not much other than perverse satisfaction—but satisfied us, nonetheless.

Back to the topic at hand—our wedding outfits. No, that didn’t sound right. The outfits we wore to a wedding, which was not our own, for obvious reasons. Despite going to such an upscale venue, I didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘classy’, so everyone would have to take me as I was and appreciate me making an attempt at all. I was so looking forward to scandalizing as many uptight snobs as possible tonight. Maybe I should keep a running tally to ensure my entertainment.

Still can’t believe you wore that.

Not scolding, disapproving, or embarrassed. Sheer and unabashed amusement at my outfit selection. Wasn’t sure what everyone expected. My outfits with the most coverage were almost all either leather or mesh. Best I could do was the loose white shirt with laces in the front that hubs loved. Then I paired that with tight leather pants and minimal jewelry (but still some, because it was me). I made a sexy pirate.

The ceremony was nice, kinda boring. Honestly, almost no one really paid attention, and neither did I. Almost felt as if we skipped right over that part of the affair to get to the fun half: the reception with an open bar. Yay! I’d park myself right here until the dinner course, maybe even until they cut the cake. Not like I needed to eat.

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