Page 74 of Blood Heir

Her hand rises slowly, fingers ghosting along my chest, and I shiver beneath her touch. She traces along the buttons of my shirt one by one, and patient, opening them with an almost teasing slowness. The fabric falls open, exposing my skin to the cool air of the room. My breath catches when her fingertips slide over my bare chest, drawing lazy circles, her nails barely grazing me as goosebumps ripple across my skin.

And then—God—her tongue.

She leans up, her lips brushing softly across my sternum, and drags her tongue down the center of my chest, leaving a wet trail that sends a surge of heat directly to my groin. My breathing hitches again, sharper this time, and I feel my abs tense beneath the heat of her mouth. The cool air kisses the dampness she leaves behind, only heightening every sensation.

She tilts her head up, locking eyes with me as she presses her lips back to mine. This time, the kiss is deeper. Her tongue slides into my mouth, and I feel her exhale into me—warm, heady, intoxicating. My entire body throbs with need, every muscle tight with restraint as I fight the instinct to take control.

Her hands slide down to my belt, working it open with practiced ease, and she tugs my pants down my hips. My cocksprings free, already hard, aching, the cool air licking over the sensitive skin. I groan low in my throat, my breathing sharp as I feel her fingers wrap gently around the base, her touch both soothing and torturous at once.

She keeps her eyes on mine, her gaze smoldering as she leans in closer. Then, without breaking eye contact, she spits—letting the wetness land right on the head of my dick, the slick trail dripping down the shaft. My breath shudders at the sight, my entire body tightening in anticipation.

Her lips part slightly, and I watch, nearly dizzy, as she lowers her mouth onto me. The warmth engulfs me instantly, her tongue swirling along the underside as she takes me in, slow and controlled. My jaw clenches, my breath comes ragged, and I have to brace one hand against the headboard just to steady myself.

“Damn,” I breathe, voice strained, barely able to find the words. My chest rises and falls in heavy, uneven bursts as she works me, her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing as she takes me deeper. She moans softly around me—the vibration shooting through me like a jolt of electricity—and I groan in response, my muscles tensing beneath her touch.

Her eyes never leave mine. There’s something primal, something raw in the way she stares up at me—owning me completely as she pleasures me. Every flick of her tongue, every wet glide of her lips is devastating.

My breathing grows rougher, harder, like I’m trying to gulp in air that won’t quite fill my lungs. My fingers twitch at my sides, desperate to grab her hair, but I force myself to let her lead—to surrender to the exquisite torture she’s inflicting on me.

I can feel the tight coil building low in my gut, my legs starting to tremble as she continues, merciless and perfect. Thesight of her—lips stretched around me, spit slicking my shaft, eyes locked on mine like I’m the only thing that exists in her world—pushes me closer and closer to the edge.

My breathing is ragged now, my thighs tense, my muscles coiled tight like a spring about to snap.

“God… Fioretta…” I groan, my voice raw and low, struggling to keep control, but it’s impossible—she’s pulling every last thread of restraint from me with each swirl of her tongue. My eyes roll back for a second as the pleasure surges higher, hotter, deeper.

And then it happens.

With one final, desperate thrust of my hips into her mouth, I explode.

“F-fuck—” I gasp, the word strangled as my release pours out of me, pulsing in thick waves. She doesn't flinch. She takes every drop, her throat working around me as she swallows me down eagerly, hungrily, like she’s been starving for me. I glance down, watching her lips sealed tightly around my cock, her eyes locked onto mine with that perfect mix of devotion and filth.

Even as I shudder, riding the last waves of my release, she stays with me, her lips gently suckling me, drawing out every last ounce until I’m spent and trembling. My chest heaves as I exhale a shaky breath, completely undone.

“Jesus Christ…” I whisper, brushing the damp hair away from her flushed face.

I reach for her and lift her effortlessly onto the bed, flipping her onto her back. The ivory sheets wrinkle beneath her as she gasps softly, her cheeks flushed and lips glistening.

She’s still wearing that little nightdress—thin, silky, barely covering her thighs—and I slide my hands beneath the hem, bunching the soft fabric up around her waist. She’s bare underneath. No panties. My breath catches at the sight of her glistening folds, already slick and ready for me.

“Look at you,” I murmur, voice rough with renewed hunger. “So fucking wet already.”

I coat my fingers in her slickness, feeling the heat radiating from her. She trembles at my touch, her thighs instinctively spreading wider for me. I watch her face as I glide my first finger inside, sinking into her warm, tight heat.

Her breath catches, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before they snap back open, locking on mine again. The moan that escapes her lips is soft at first—like a whispered secret—but quickly builds as I move, curling my finger inside her, pressing into that perfect spot.

I lean down, capturing her mouth with mine, kissing her deeply. Her lips are warm and eager, tasting of me, of her own arousal, of pure want. My tongue slips inside her mouth, mimicking the slow rhythm of my finger, matching the way I’m working her from below.

Her moans vibrate into my mouth, desperate, needy. Every sound she makes pushes my own arousal higher again.

I slide a second finger inside, stretching her slightly, and she gasps into the kiss, her back arching instinctively as her body clings to my touch. My fingers glide in and out, curling and pressing, feeling the slick heat of her walls squeeze around me with each movement.

“Mmm… oh……” she whimpers into my mouth, her voice trembling. Her thighs start to tremble as well, her hips moving in rhythm with my strokes, grinding up to meet my hand.

I break the kiss, just enough to whisper against her lips, my breath hot.

Her moans grow louder as I keep working her, feeling her getting tighter, wetter, her release building under my touch. My thumb finds her clit, circling it softly, and her entire body jerks beneath me, another sharp cry escaping her lips.

She starts to move now—her hips lifting, grinding down against my hand. Her body has taken over, chasing the release she’s so close to. The muscles in her thighs flex as she rides my fingers, her breathing ragged, her head thrown back against the ivory sheets.

---