Page 58 of Feast

Her protest died in her throat as her head began to spin. It seemed as though he was everywhere, lips and tongue and teeth devouring her with the kind of savage hunger she’d only read about. He licked and nibbled, sucked and bit, and it seemed to her that he was trying to fit as much of her into his mouth as he possibly could.

It was shockingly effective.

The orgasm built so hard, so fast she barely had time to recognize it before she was coming, so hard it almost hurt, her body shaking and jerking as her cunt squeezed and spasmed and he shoved his face into her so hard she was dimly afraid it might bruise.

When it was over and she was nothing more than a limp puddle on the mattress, he lifted his head to look at her. His face was gleaming wet from his chin to his eyebrows, and there was a glint in his eye that raised a faint alarm in her barely functioning brain. But she was too fuck-drunk to realize what it meant, so when he put his face back into her pussy and closed his lips around her still buzzing clit, it was a shock.

She tried to wiggle away, babbling that it was too much, she was too sensitive, she needed a minute to rest. But he ignored all of it and soon, much sooner than she would have believed possible, she felt her body begin the slow, inevitable climb towards orgasm.

It took much longer this time, the climb almost a crawl, every inch a struggle. But the orgasm was no less intense, no less consuming, and when it was done she was sure she had nothing left.

Until he slipped two fingers into her still-twitching cunt and began again.

10

Spence lifted his mouth from her clit and looked up the length of her body to her face, pleased with what he saw there.

She was a mess.

Her hair was sweaty and matted, a wild tangle of snarls around her head. Her eyes were closed, her face flushed and damp with sweat, tears, and maybe a little drool, and her lower lip was swollen and bruised from repeated bites.

Her tits were sweaty too, trembling with each shaky breath, and he realized that once again he’d neglected them. Promising himself that he’d make it up to both of them, he laid his palms on her shaky thighs and pushed up.

He crawled up until he hovered over her, his renewed erection—which he’d covered with a condom after her third orgasm—nudging into her damp pubic hair. Her eyes fluttered open at the contact, and what he saw there had him gritting his teeth in a bid for control.

She looked wild, almost feral, lust and need and a silent, desperate plea lurking in the soft brown depths of her eyes. “Please,” she rasped, her voice hoarse, the word as close to a prayer as he’d ever heard. “Please.”

Unable to resist, he bent to run his tongue around one trembling nipple. “Please what?”

Her whimper was barely audible, but she surged under him.

He set his teeth to her nipple, gave one hard tug, then let go and watched her breast bounce. “You want to come again?”

He knew the answer. He’d worked her at least to the halfway point, but she was wrung out and sore, near the end of her rope. She wanted it, but she feared it, too.

“I don’t know if I can,” she confessed in a whisper, but he heard the need.

He sucked her other nipple until it was a hard and ruddy red, then drew back. “You can,” he promised, admiring his handiwork. He needed to get some rope around her tits next time, he mused. They were big and soft and pliable, perfect for breast bondage. And those nipples would look so pretty in a set of clamps.

“I can’t,” she said, sounding on the verge of tears, and he looked at her face.

The tears in her voice shimmered in her eyes, making them shine. She was all but vibrating with need and dread, agony a thin, slippery layer over the lust.

“Yes, you can,” he crooned and lifted a hand to brush at the tear that dripped down her cheek. “It’s going to hurt, though.”

“I know.” Her voice hitched on a sob, and he wondered if he’d pushed her too far.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, ignoring his body’s instinctive howl of protest. He wanted to fuck—needed to—but if he had to, he’d jerk off in the shower later.

“No,” she said, her eyes wheeling, frantic. She began to struggle against the rope, against him. “No, don’t leave me like this.”

“Shhh,” he soothed, cupping her cheek to still the frantic shaking of her head. “Shhh, I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”

She stilled, her eyes fixed on his in frenzied entreaty. “Please.”

“Okay.” He stroked her cheek to calm her. “Okay. Tell me what you need.”

“What?”

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