Page 42 of A Story of Sinners

She pulled her neckline down, bearing her breasts, and I rolled her nipple between two fingers. Rage with the magnitude of an earthquake resonated from the darkness, filling the air with a shroud of violence. With one last rattle, the shadows disappeared, the demon vanishing along with them.

Finally, we were alone, just me and my mate. I released my teeth from her neck and licked the small trail of blood, then pulled away and twisted her around. She was lost to her heat, with lowered lids and eyes hazed over in a shade of black—eyes that gazed dreamily at me. I ran my palms down her arms, feeling smooth skin, hot to the touch. Her plump little lips opened on a sigh, revealing a glimpse of the tiniest little fangs I’d ever seen.

Adorable. And she thought herself a loathsome creature of the night.

“What a sweet little purr you have, my love.”

Her purr broke off, trailing into a broken whine as I cupped the back of her head, pulling her closely to me. Her body shook and her eyes darkened. She needed me, and I couldn’t help but hold the moment longer than necessary.

A whimper sounded as I brushed my lips against hers, the barest amount, and when I pulled away yet again, testing and teasing, she growled.

I chuckled at the fury in her blackened eyes, but clearly, she didn’t find it funny, not at all. Before I even had the chance to brace myself, she threw her body into mine, wrapping her legs around my waist and clawing at my skin. A small, sharp stab cut into my lips as she bit down and took hold, pulling and guiding me to the direction of her bed.

She was past words, past logical thought, as she released her biting hold on my lip and pushed me onto the soft comforter. Her dress was the first to go, torn and shredded by the sharp claws protruding from her fingertips. Her chest heaved, and her breaths rushed out in heavy bursts as she directed those claws at me, slicing through my jacket and knocking the crown from my head. Then, she trailed those claws to the drawstrings of my pants, cutting through with one swipe.

Dahlia was no longer Dahlia, not anymore. She was an animal, a creature, boiled down to one basic, instinctual need: to mate.

I loved it.

Red strands cascaded wildly about her face as she tore the pants from my legs, her teeth cutting into the plump lips surrounding them. Blood trickled from her mouth as she advanced on me with hunched shoulders, her movements feline.

I propped myself up on my elbows and stared into her manic expression as she crawled over me, gripping my painfully hard length and giving it a small lick. Her mouth opened, and she swallowed me, working her jaw to take me all the way to the back of her throat. I groaned as her head bobbed up and down my length, then again when she took me even deeper.

“Such a good girl, Dahlia.”

As a fae, I could easily go multiple rounds, but I didn’t want to waste any cum while she was in her heat and primed to make use of it. The thought of putting a child in her belly made my balls tighten as I gripped her hair and pulled her up to me.

She tilted her head, an animalistic hunger in her eyes as she released a loud growl that would have brought me to my knees if I’d been standing.

“Go ahead, mate,” I rasped. “Use me.”

And she did.

* * *

Grunting and hissing, pulling and biting, growls and claws and fangs. Release washed over me, repeatedly. Each time felt like nothing I’d ever felt before.

She wasn’t even close to sated.

I’d had her over every inch of every surface, coming full circle to where it all began: that tiny little breakfast table. Dahlia scratched across my chest, raking those little claws into my skin and pushing me down onto the table, the legs creaking beneath our weight as she mounted me.

I released a growl, one that should have had her bearing her neck to me and submitting, but she refused to yield, pushing down on my chest instead and sliding down my length.

The feel of her clenching around me drew out a loud groan, and she purred as she took me slowly, leisurely, as if taunting me.

But she’d had her turn, repeatedly. I’d let her take charge throughout the night, throughout the day—though I was unsure of how much time had passed—and now, it was my turn. I gripped her thighs and spun us around, slamming her against the table.

Her legs spread wide as I thrust into her, placing my hand on her chest so she wouldn’t fly off the table. Each time I drove my hips into hers, she moaned, loud and guttural. I would burn the sight of this into my memory forever.

“That’s it sweetheart. Look at you.”

She mewled, but my little crow in heat was not a pleasant little bird. She did not like to relinquish control. Her small little fangs glistened as she gripped me tightly, tucking her legs to spin me around in another attempt to take charge.

I wouldn’t allow it.

With one hand planted on her chest and the other gripping her thigh, I allowed the tiniest bit of lightning to slip through, knowing it wouldn’t harm her. Electricity sizzled against her skin, and a loud, drawn-out moan poured from her lips. I shifted a finger to her nipple and let the smallest bit of lightning slip. Her cunt gripped me tightly, gushing around my length, and she keened at the slight prickle of pain. The sound made me chuckle.

She liked this—a small bite of pain with her pleasure.

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