Page 67 of Feathers From the Sky

His fingertips are bruising as he pistons into me. He’s so deep, it hurts. But the ache is welcome, each pound against me, each jolt something I crave. I’d wanted the pain, and he’s giving me what I need. Hanging on the best I can, he lays waste to my body. His kisses are as punishing as his thrusts, nipping and pressing, as if letting me speak will put a voice to words he’s having trouble accepting. I will ask what he meant, demand he tell me how far it’s gone for him. I will hope he’s worse off in this ruthless game between us but will be fearful of the knowledge.

So I kiss him back with equal vigor. When I draw blood from his lip, moaning as I drink him down, it’s a growl which tears up his throat as he moves me even faster. He’s close, and finally, he breaks the kiss. He doesn’t let go of me, and he shakes his head as he looks into my eyes. It’s too much for him. It’s disbelief creeping over as his brows gather while quiet grunts and sighs tumble out of his mouth as his movements grow erratic. Finally, with a long groan, he comes. The emotions which warred on his face only moments ago have shocked me into silence, into some state of denial and desire. Roman holds me still atop him, the warmth of his release filling me. He doesn’t put me down as he staggers to my bed, and he buries his face in my neck.

I wonder if it’s self-preservation.

Sitting on the edge of my mattress, arms wrapped around my waist, his lips move gently on my neck. He’s holding me tightly, like he can’t let me get away. My knees rest on either side of him, and I squash the urge to rest my head on his shoulder. I don’t know what to say, or if I should say anything at all.

Roman holds me like this just long enough that my body begins aching for more, my hips trying to roll against him. Nothing else matters, when every thought of mine revolves around getting off, and I wonder if he went over that edge without me as punishment. But then he’s nipping my ear, his warm breath a tickle on my neck.

“You don’t think I’m done with you, do you? Let me see it,” he says. And then he’s lifting me off his lap and throwing me onto the bed. I prop myself up on my elbows, and I feel like I should say something. I should have some sort of remark to minimize what we’ve done. He shoves my legs apart, staring down at me, and I’ve never felt more bare. But then he praises me, and I wish it didn’t affect me the way it does. “You’re so fucking pretty like that. My beautiful little mess.”

And then his big hands are on my thighs, pushing my legs farther apart. Roman kisses the inside of my knee. Higher. The juncture of my thigh. Higher. He licks around my belly button, and I shiver. When he looks up at me, I’m taken aback by how beautiful he is. Dark, thick lashes ring his bright eyes, and they’re filled with a fiery lust which feels like somethingmore. When his fingertips slip through the mess we’ve made and his tongue traces that sensitive, swollen spot, my hips buck uncontrollably. He chuckles against me and slides his fingers inside me.

Roman sucks on my clit as his fingers curl, slippery with his release. I’ve never had a man do this before, and it’s made me lose focus on my pleasure. He’s surprised me enough to distract that throbbing need. The sounds he makes bring me back though. He lets out little noises and rumbles of approval, like this is just as much for him as it is for me.

Men from my past wouldn’t even kiss me after a blowjob, but here Roman is letting his tongue trace a path all over me before I’ve cleaned up. His clever fingers rub me with enough pressure, my legs start twitching. This feels more intimate than it should, and I wonder if it’s because I’ve expected so much less in the past.

Or because Roman is so much more in so many ways.

“Out of your head, Gwyn,” he says before nipping my clit. “Thinking is for when you’re boneless. For when it’s quiet.” He pulls my clit into his mouth hard as his fingers flutter inside me. I gasp when he releases me. “And you’re not going to be quiet for me, are you, sweetheart?”

I let my elbows slip out from beneath me and collapse into the mattress. Not wanting to analyze any of this, I close my eyes and heed his words, allowing myself to sink into the sensation. And when I just let myself exist, let myself soak in the feeling, I don’t stay quiet. I moan, pressing my head back into the mattress hard. His chuckle is smug satisfaction against my skin. When Roman rubs his fangs over me, I suck in a breath. I don’t know if it’s meant to be a threat, but something about it pushes me closer. This sharp-edged predator is using that lazy tongue alongside his fearful teeth to bring me pleasure, and it turns me on all the more.

I’ve chased risks all my life, and I wonder if I’ve been running after Roman all along.

He sucks and kisses and licks, all while deft fingertips rub that spot inside me with consistent pressure. I can feel my muscles flexing against him, as if it’s too much and they want him out, but he presses past it. I’m writhing beneath his touch, and he puts a hand on my stomach to keep me from moving away.

“Don’t stop,” I murmur, and my body tightens. My shoulders tense, and I feel like I’m about to explode into a thousand tiny pieces. I can’t help it as I reach for the hand he’s using to hold me down. And instead of swatting me away, he interlaces his fingers with mine. Roman anchors me to his touch, and when I finally hit that peak, gasping his name and squeezing his hand, I realize I don’t want to stop doing this.

Ever.

24

ROMAN

How I managedto come in the midst of a goddamn crisis of identity is a testament to how ruined I truly am. I’d had no intention of fucking her, hoping my own willpower would counteract the need the change would force upon her.

Turns out, I’m a stupid motherfucker.

My only hope now is to make Gwyn forget her own name, so she doesn’t remember what the fuck I said, the hand I’d shown her. The line I’d not only crossed but invariably pissed on.

Holding her goddamn hand isn’t helping. Gwyn’s eyes are closed, brows lifted, and her other hand lays across her chest as she breathes deeply. I’m already hard again, the way she’d writhed and reached for me while I brought her to orgasm more than enough to do it. I don’t know how much longer we have before people start asking questions, but I need to get her out of here. Taking her to the greystone before anyone can figure out what I’ve done to her is of the utmost importance. She can’t cling to me on the way out, her fangs and desire uncontrollable; someone will see it, and we’ll be caught.

I quite literally need to fuck the need out of her.

“Come here,” I say, pulling her up by the hand I still haven’t let go of. Sitting on the edge of her bed, I settle her between my legs. Her ass rubs against my dick, and I reach around to cup her breast.

“How do I already want you inside me again?” she asks, relaxing against me. “It’s not as bad as before, but fuck.”

“It’s going to be like this for a few days,” I tell her. “Each time will take a little edge off. It took me about three days to get a handle on it.”

She stiffens in my arms, and I pinch her nipple. Wishing I hadn’t said that, I rub my hand down her spine. Territorial is a modest way to describe vampires during an Ascension. It goes both ways, but at least with me, I know how to control my shit. She doesn’t. Not yet anyway.

“When were you changed? I thought you were born a vampire.” Her hands rest on my thighs, one fingertip tracing the ink curling over my knee. It’s on my left, the side I’ve dedicated to nature, so the curve of the long vine is easy for her to follow. Brushing her hair out of the way, I press a kiss to her neck. The urge to bite her hasn’t subsided in the slightest, and it’s mind-boggling. If anything, she smells better. Apple pie has shifted into some sort of rich cider, and it’s all the more tempting. I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to handle it. But caution has apparently left me with my common sense, and I drag my teeth over her carotid. Her pulse has slowed, but not as much as Margot and the others. Perhaps it’s because of her hunter’s blood. I drag my hand down her side, the sticky blood from where one of them had bitten her impeding the motion.

“I was born a vampire, but the choice to Ascend remained. I still had many of my abilities, like strength and speed, but they were harder to control. Erratic, unpredictable. To be fair, it never really felt like much of a choice. My coven had been swearing blood oaths to me my entire life, just waiting to become sworn to me the moment I Ascended. But I still had to choose to drink to obtain immortality.” Her heart begins to race, and I realize my mistake immediately. “Try not to think about that, not yet.” I lick her neck, the sweet tart of her blood fading as it dries on her milky skin. It had taken everything in me to not bite that plump spot between her thighs. Honestly, when I was sucking on her sweet little clit, if I’d have gotten a taste of her blood, I would’ve come right then. A tremendously reckless part of me almost said ‘fuck it’ and did it anyway. But then I thought about how she would stop needing me once her body completed the change, and then she’d hate me for what I’ve done. And if I drank from her, it would limit me beyond comfort. Blood sworn to Gwyn, I’d have a hell of a time acting against her, and I can’t have that.

Gwyn adjusts, rubbing her sweet round ass against me, and I groan into her neck. My teeth drag along her skin, and she reaches one arm up, digging her fingertips into my scalp.

---