Page 106 of Their Blood Rite

‘Don’t… don’t call me that.’

‘But you are my little blood whore,’ he says in my ear, twisting his fingers and making me moan. ‘You like it when I drink from you, yes?’ He walks forward, guiding me back through the crowd who step aside. Even as we move, he doesn’t stop. He watches my face. His fingers keep working. ‘And you like the taste of us, yes?’

My back hits a tree. Behind him, the party continues. Many glance at us.

‘Eyes on me,whore.’

‘Stop calling me that,’ I answer breathlessly.

My words get me another finger.

‘Oh gods…’

‘You’re my whore. I get you when I want. However, I want. And you’ll take everything and so much more. Now. Take my cock out.’

My trembling fingers fumble around his buttons. He springs free, and I take him in hand.

My eyes widen as I feel the sheer size of him.

‘On your knees.’

Again, I glance over his shoulder at the others. The log Archie and Shaw were sitting on is empty. They’re not amongst those still grinding and swaying either. The guards are drinking and flirting with those living on the castle grounds. The human girl Dorian fed from sits on the siren’s lap and has three sets of fingers easing in and out of her spread legs. Another is on her knees in front of Kieran, taking him in her mouth. The air is alive with sex and desire.

I don’t see Archie or Shaw. Nor do I see the girls they had.

Dorian uses his finger to return my focus to him.

‘When I’m inside you, I’m all that matters. I’m all there is in your universe. My cock is your god. If you want me to have you writhing and screaming in pleasure, you will worship it. On. Your. Knees.’

I lower myself, falling to my knees for him.

‘Open your mouth.’

‘I’ve never done this before,’ I admit.

He raises a brow. He knows.

I open my mouth and take him in. His soft, warm length slides along my tongue and the tip of his cock meets the back of my throat.

Sealing my lips around his thickness, I flick my tongue around him and flush with heat at his pleasure-filled moan.

‘Good little whore,’ he mutters, taking my hair in both his hands. ‘Now. Worship me.’

He starts to slowly thrust, gentle at first, testing my ability to take him. Seeing how far he can go until I gag. But each gag makes his grip on my hair tighter and his breaths more jagged.

He likes making me gag.

And I love it. I love how he’s oblivious to everything except me. How I’m all there is. I was sure he loathed me. Maybe he does. He’s called me his whore, and as he encourages himself deeper down my throat, he holds himself there, making my eyes stream as I choke around him.

He pulls free, utterly enchanted by me, and waits.

‘You okay?’

‘Yes,’ I reply.

‘More? Or am I too much for you… whore?’

I open my mouth for him.

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