Page 68 of Feathers From the Sky

“You still want to bite me, don’t you?” she sighs, and her other hand squeezes my thigh, digging her nails into my flesh.

“Desperately,” I admit. There’s no point in lying.

“You can if you want,” she says, letting her head loll against my chest.

“I know I can. I can do anything with you I want, sweetheart,” I retort, sliding my hand down to cup her pussy. She’s a sloppy mess, and I rub my fingertips through it. The sound I make is involuntary. I don’t think I’ve wanted anyone this badly since my own Ascension. Frankly, it’s worse because I have the choice now to stop. And I really don’t fucking want to.

“But you won’t,” she says. I don’t know if she refers to me biting her or the thinly veiled threat of using her as I see fit. Either way, she’s correct.

“A burden far easier to bear if I’m buried inside you.” I lift her, squeezing that fat round ass in my hands as I stand and turn her around. I almost mourn that I’ll never get the chance to bite it. Grabbing her thigh, I put one of her knees on the bed. Eagerly, she angles that sweet cunt toward me, and I tease her, holding my cock with one hand and spreading her with the other. Rubbing myself along her slit, once I’m lined up perfectly, I grip her waist and pull her back.

She’s dripping wet, and it feels so good, I can’t help it when I groan. Gwyn’s moan is deep, reverberating, as she throws her head back. Encircling her body, I grab her breast with one hand and her stomach with the other, hauling her against me. She arches her back, putting her weight on her knee. I drag my tongue over her shoulder and up her neck, gently pulling her ear into my mouth.

I want to be so fucking far from gentle with her, but I can’t risk it.

“Roman,” she pants as her fingertips flutter over my knuckles. I grab her wrist, gently guiding her hand down her stomach, bringing her fingers to where I rest inside her.

“Feel it, sweetheart. Feel how perfect.” She slides her fingers on either side of my cock, and I feel her muscles tighten around me. Gwyn straightens, gliding her fingers over my length. She spreads the wetness on me and her clit before she rubs firm circles on that sensitive spot. Insatiable, the Ascension is riding her hard. “Nuh uh,” I say, grabbing her wrist. “That’s mine now.If my cock is inside you, ask permission first.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she says, and it’s the first glimpse of her normal self after giving her my blood. The laugh which escapes me is more relief than anything, and I clear my throat. She can’t see that weakness. “I’m not asking you—oh!” She clenches around me, her body unable to hide how much she liked me slapping her pussy. Instinctively, I’d done it to cover up my overwhelming relief. I rub my middle finger over her clit, and one of her hands grabs my wrist. “Roman,” she moans as she writhes beneath my touch. The warm hug of her cunt is almost too much, but I thrust into her. Using my other hand to grab her throat, I turn it so I have access to her pretty neck.

Dragging my teeth over her pulse, I breathe her in. She is the sweetest temptation, and I want her more than anything. I want her blood on my tongue as I come inside her. I want that sweet taste in my mouth as she squeezes my cock and cries out. I’m furious I didn’t fuck her before it came to this.

Fleetingly, I almost convince myself it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I graze the sharp tip of a fang along the column of her neck. Her high-pitched noises make it worse, make me want to validate the fear and arousal. She tilts her hips toward my hand, wanting more pressure on her clit, and I push harder, giving what she needs.

Gwyn is panting as I slam into her, as her hand rests atop mine where it rubs her clit, as her legs shake and her cries grow louder. When I hear Nico clear his throat in the hallway, I become single-minded. The Ascension is harder on those turning, but I’m not unaffected by it either. She’s mine, she belongs to me, and I will annihilate anyone who threatens her.

“Fuck off, Nico,” I grumble, and Gwyn snorts.

“Strange choice of dirty talk,” she says, and I flick her clit before circling it with more pressure. Sucking on her neck hard, I immediately pull away when I realize what I’ve done. I don’t taste her blood, thank fuck, but I can smell it. I’ve nicked her skin, and I loosen my grip on her throat to wipe my mouth and teeth. When my hand comes back clean, I’m relieved. The smell is driving me mad though, just as much as it always has. I watch as a bead of blood wells up on her skin, and I wipe it up with my fingertip. I put it in her mouth, and she sucks the taste away, removing the temptation.

“Was that my blood?” she asks. “Did you bite me?”

“Just a scratch,” I respond, but it was too fucking close. Rubbing her clit harder, I angle my hips to fuck her deeply, grateful she can’t see me. There’s too much I’m feeling, too much I’m holding back, everything is too fucking much. I can’t risk her reading it on my face. I don’t even know what any of this means—how much of it is the Ascension and how much is just her? Her light, her kindness, her trust, her beauty.

If Gwyn has somehow managed to become my everything, then what I’ve done for my family is worth nothing. I don’t know if I can live with that.

“Roman, I—I’m,” she stutters, and her pussy is squeezing me so tight, I know what she’s trying to say.

“I know, sweetheart. You need to come, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she cries out, hand grabbing at mine as I rub circles on that sensitive spot. “Please, I need to.”

“Then do it.Come on my cock,” I command, and she does, her whole body shaking as she tries to collapse forward onto the bed. But I don’t let her, gripping her hips tightly as I thrust into her. Her sounds are so goddamn sexy, the whimpers climbing up her throat as her hand claws into mine. She’s squeezing my dick like a vise, and she’s so slick and beautiful and mine—I tip over the edge with her. I’m soaring on a high from the blood I’ve licked from her body, everything slightly blurry and bright. When I can barely stand, she falls forward onto the bed, and I move with her, bending over her and kissing her spine before collapsing beside her.

Gwyn is laying on her stomach, facing away from me as I roll over onto my back. Staring at the ceiling, I know I have to move, have to get her to safety, but I wish I had a few more minutes to deconstruct my emotions. But she turns her head, grabbing my hand in hers and pulling it close.

She’s flushed, skin dewy and eyes wet. Her lip trembles, and a tear slides down her face onto the bed. Rolling toward her, she’s all I can see.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and I say nothing. How could I possibly respond to that? By choosing to care for her, to protect her, almost getting her killed was inevitable. I frown, shaking my head when she continues. “You were never my damnation, Roman. You’re my absolution.”

Frozen, all I can do is stare at her. Long dark lashes, wet with emotion. Honey eyes which are only brighter now that she’s changed. Smooth, unblemished skin and pink cheeks. That plump mouth and the soft curve of her jaw. She’s breathtaking. When she smiles at me, I kiss her, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop.

***

“Holy shit,” Gwyn breathes as I shut the front door behind us. It’s quiet, and I can hear the faint murmur of Margot’s voice as she problem solves on her phone outside. I run my hand through my hair, walking past Gwyn to the back of the house where the kitchen is located, flicking lights on as I go. I haven’t been to the greystone since Margot had the place renovated. The marble counters and white cabinets with gold brushed handles are ostentatious, but I have to admit it looks nice. I know Gwyn will be impressed by the small closet with glass doors and a stock of wine more expensive than the home itself. She lingers in the foyer, but I don’t bother calling her into the kitchen. She won’t stay away from me for long. Much to Margot’s chagrin, I’d sat in the backseat with her on the way over, knowing Gwyn wouldn’t make it to the house without needing my touch once more. We’re lucky she was too busy riding my fingers to worry about biting Margot’s fucking head off. Gwyn’s change might have caused her to want to kill Margot, but I had found her to be barely tolerable as well. It had been a considerable effort to not remove her from Gwyn’s presence, and I’d left Nico at the compound for the same reason.

“I thought this was your place,” Gwyn says, voice moving closer to the kitchen where I pour a finger of scotch. Before she comes around the corner, I toss the extra glass back up in the cabinet. I’m not the fucking host to her houseguest, goddammit. When she sees the marble island with the low-hanging lights over it, her brows raise, but she says nothing.

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