Page 32 of Blood Heir

Her words punch the air from my lungs.

And for a moment, I’m back there.

Back to the old Fioretta standing in front of me, her eyes brimming with tears, her lip trembling as she whispered through the pain:

“It’ll never be me, will it?”

The memory guts me. I can feel the echo of it in my chest like a bruise that never healed.

I blink, pulling myself back into the present. And she’s waiting. Watching.

I can’t not give her what she asks for.

I can’t not fall to my knees for her.

“Please,” I rasp. My voice is unsteady, thick with something I don’t even recognize anymore.

“Please.”

She smiles—not cruelly, but with the satisfaction of someone reclaiming power that was once stripped from them. Her fingers trail down my jaw for just a second, and then she turns, walking toward the couch.

My breath catches as she sits, calm. She slides her panties down her legs, inch by agonizing inch, letting them fall to the floor as if she has all the time in the world. My cock throbs painfully as I watch her part her legs, exposing herself to me.

She locks eyes with me. “Come over.”

God help me, my body moves before my mind can catch up. I crawl—actually crawl—to her, my hands sinking into the carpet as my mouth waters for her. For the chance to taste her, to worship her, to lose myself in the one person I once pushed away. She watches me with those dark, knowing eyes, and I know:

I belong to her now.

And maybe I always did

Every inch of me aches for her, pulled forward by something primal, unstoppable. My hands find her knees, warm and smooth beneath my palms, and I part her legs wider. She yields easily, inviting me in, revealing herself completely.

The moment she opens for me, her scent hits me full force. Sweet. Earthy. Rich. A deep, intoxicating musk laced with something sharp and heady, like the most decadent honey. My pulse quickens, and my mouth waters instinctively. My cock twitches painfully against the tight confines of my pants, but this isn’t about me. Not yet.

I inhale her like oxygen, filling my lungs with her arousal, dizzy from how wet she already is. She’s glistening, folds slick and swollen with need, her entrance gleaming with the evidence of how badly she wants this. Wants me.

I lower my mouth to her heat, so close my lips almost brush her, and I feel the tremor ripple through her thighs.

“F-fuck…” she breathes, her voice already shaking.

I flick my tongue out, the first delicate contact making her jerk beneath me. I don’t rush. I taste her like I’m savoring a rare delicacy, letting her arousal spread across my tongue. Salty and sweet, metallic and floral. Addictive. I moan softly against her flesh, unable to stop myself.

“Oh, God,” she gasps, gripping the back of my head, her fingers instantly tightening in my hair like she’s anchoring herself against the overwhelming sensation.

My lips part as I flatten my tongue against her, dragging it upward in one long stroke, teasing her swollen clit before dipping back down to her entrance. I circle her opening with firm laps, gathering her slickness and drawing it up toward her aching bud. Her thighs tense around my head, and she lets out a breathy moan, her hips already starting to roll against my mouth.

“You taste so fucking good,” I growl softly into her, the vibrations making her whimper.

Her hips buck, chasing every flick of my tongue. I press a little harder now, flicking and swirling her clit, tasting the way her body responds to me, watching her fall apart, inch by inch.

Her voice becomes a melody of broken sounds, high and breathless. “Ohh…yes…yes…don’t stop…don’t stop, oh, my God.”

I slide my hands up her thighs, gripping her firmly to keep her open for me. My fingers drift to her slick entrance, and I slide two fingers inside, feeling her walls clench around me like a vise. She’s so tight and warm, silky wet heat wrapping around my knuckles as I pump in and out, curling my fingers upward to find that perfect spot inside her.

She throws her head back, eyes squeezed shut, her voice cracking with pleasure. “Ah—right there! Oh, God, right fucking there!”

Her cries are pure desperation now. Her nails dig into my scalp, tugging my hair almost painfully, but I don’t care. I want to drown in her, lose myself in the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her pussy clenching around my fingers.

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