Page 43 of Cursed Lifeline

Unable to find the right words, I turn and make my way back towards the door, intent on misting out and giving us space before either of us takes this too far. Esme rushes to my side and places herself between me and the exit.

I came here intent on taking her with me, but right now, I can’t think straight, so until I can get my head and cock to cooperate, it’s best this escape take a back seat to the animal inside that’s begging to be unleashed.

“No,” she begs. “Don’t leave.”

Shaking my head, I grip her shoulders and force her back against the door. Her eyes lock angrily with mine.

“I can’t give you what you’re asking.”

“Why?” she cries.

My hands shake as I teeter on the last edge of honoring her the way I know I should and taking what my lost soul screams it desires most from beyond the grave.

When I don’t answer, Esme lifts her bloody palm and forces it against my mouth. Trying my best not to breathe her in, I mist to the other side of the room and turn my back on her. Taking deep, controlled breaths, I look out the window and debate, using it as an escape. Esme’s rushed footsteps sound in my direction, and I quickly take off toward the glow of moonlight cascading into her room through the aged glass.

But before I can propel myself out of reach, Esme wraps her bloodied palm around my wrist and pulls me back to her with the strength only a slayer could summon.

Hungry, starved, my black eyes find hers. When she realizes the eyes peering down at her are not their normal violet shade, she releases her hold. Her bloodied palm raises nervously to her chest. She takes a step back in fear. The moonlight illuminates the sheer fabric of her undergarments, exposing her chest and the blood smeared temptingly across it. Backing her up against the bed, I close my eyes to erase the erotic sight.

Desperate to do something to quench my thirst before I drink from her, my mouth crashes down against her lips. Indecent whimpers escape her before her right leg rises and wraps around the back of my thigh. I waste no time hoisting her into my arms, and she wraps her legs around my hips with ease. Her mouth opens, and her tongue brushes eagerly against mine. My pelvis grinds into her on instinct. She matches my greed, thrusting her hips down against my lower stomach before swirling them in a slow circle that causes the crown of my cock to rotate in a painfully tempting caress around the dampness of her soft folds.

I savor her kiss slowly, provoking a moan of pleasure before her growing need takes over, and she bites down on my lip, breaking the skin and drawing blood. She licks it away quickly. The sensation fuels a growing urge inside both of us. Falling against the sheets, my hands desperately claw at her dress, rising it quickly up her trembling thighs. My mouth falls to her neck, and I nibble, lick, and delicately bite my way toward her breasts.

Her hands tangle in my hair, and she clings to me as I savor the taste of her soft skin and we feverishly bend to a fate we’ve finally decided to embrace.

This time, when I reach the apex of her thighs, she spreads them willingly. My fingertips brush against her wet opening and she bucks her hips with need.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she breathlessly rambles as I gently part her velvet skin with two fingertips and take her hardened nipple between my lips.

“I choose you, remember,” I groan as a thick, warm wetness begins to coat my hand. “Now, open up for me like a good girl, and let me claim what’s mine.”

Her legs spread wider, and I dip a single finger inside her. She lets out a shocked gasp. Biting down lightly on her nipple, I curve my touch and stroke slowly in and out of her tight center.

“Yours,” she pants. “Felix, all I could ever want is to be yours.”

Her words fuel me. Feeling what’s mine won’t be enough. But tasting what’s mine, feasting on the pleasure I’m coaxing from her body, might satisfy my craving until she’s ready for more.

“Do you trust me, Esme?”

“I shouldn’t,” she pants.

My heart breaks because we both know it’s the truth.

Lowering myself down her frame, my eyes lock on hers as I grip her inner thighs and savagely pull them apart. She begins to look away.

Instantly, I demand, “Eyes on me.” She obeys as my face inches closer to her glistening center. “Watch as I earn your trust when I bring you pleasure, not pain, and you quench my thirst like no other woman can.”

She bites her lip. Her eyes stay locked on mine as I dip my tongue inside heaven and feel my insatiable thirst for her subside for the first time.

As her wetness grows, and her addictive flavor rolls down the back of my tongue, satisfying a craving I’ve had my whole life, even before I turned seventeen and went through the change, I become confident I can feast on her and not snap. Like a mad man, given his first taste of water after wandering in the desert, I feast on her until her hips buck wildly off the bed, her thighs shake, and her sounds of pleasure fall in begging and pleading waves against the soundproof shield I enacted around her room.

“Oh God,” she cries.

Gently placing a finger inside her, I suck her towards the heaven she speaks of. Her pleasure increases and thickly coats the back of my hand before it pools against the sheets. Sticking a second finger inside her, she grips my hair, rides my face, and repeats, “Oh fucking God.”

“That dirty mouth won’t get you into heaven,” I growl as I lick and savor every delicious drop of ecstasy I’m frenziedly pulling from her trembling body like a fiend.

“This is heaven,” she arguably pants. “Only thing that would make it better is …”

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