Page 61 of Starve
“Cairo—” His name is a choked gasp on my lips, and unthinkingly I reach up to tangle my fingers in his black hair that’s stiff with blood. It doesn’t occur to me that it’s disgusting as I jerk his face down to mine, and the surprise in his eyes is satisfying as hell just as I crush his lips to mine, giving a soft, experimental growl of my own against his lips.
It triggers something in him I hadn’t expected, and Cairo’s whole body shudders at the sound. At first, I’m sure I’ve done something wrong, especially since he isn’t kissing me back. But then one hand goes to my hip and his other slams down on the rug beside me. Then he lunges forward to devour my mouth in a bruising, sharp-edged kiss.
When he thrusts into me again, I see stars. It’s too much, and perfect, and so close to being painful that I arch my hips to both chase and escape the feeling. He swallows the noises I keep making, his mouth greedy on mine as his tongue teases and presses against my own.
Cairo tastes of blood, and death, and somethingwild.
But I can’t get enough of it.
“Oh, you’re asking for it, little bird,” he chuckles in a rough, grating voice when I growl again. His hand on my hip tightens, his claws tight to my skin, before he shifts his grip to press against my stomach until I’m flat on the floor.
“Am I?” I gasp, but I only get a rueful look from his dark eyes in response. He’s not fooled, though maybe amused, I hope.
His next thrust has me gasping, and my hips jerk into his hand, though he doesn’t let me go anywhere. It jars my entire body, and I barely notice when his hand slips further down my body, until his claws are teasing at my clit, causing me to let out a choked whimper. “Cairo?—”
“Your scent gets so sweet when you’re about to come,” the creature above me purrs, still holding himself up with one hand so he can watch my face. “And all it ever takes is this. You full of my cock and me playing with your sweet little clit. I wonder how many other ways I can find to make you lose control, little bird.”
I want to say something, maybe something about him being just as predictable, but I can’t. All I can do is close my eyes, as the feeling from his claws and his cock work to push me closer to my release. But I manage to jerk Cairo down to me again, and when I come with his name a choked cry on my lips, he swallows the sound greedily, licking every moment of it out of my mouth.
He’s not far behind. I feel him pulsing, spilling inside of me, though his thrusts don’t falter. It’s a few seconds too long for me to realize he isn’tgoing anywhere,and when I jerk him back a little by his hair, panting and already becoming overstimulated even without his fingers on my clit, he snickers openly at my expression.
“Yeah,” Cairo agrees. “I know. And here you are, so perfect for me. I’m not going anywhere.” He grinds into me when he’s deep inside my pussy, and I throw my head back to gasp. Cairo lunges forward and sinks his teeth into the base of my throat, hard enough that I swear he draws blood.
“So it looks like you’re going to have to suffer for me, pretty girl. All night long, until I’m satisfied. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He licks over the mark and pulls out, only to drag me back to my hands and knees before sliding back between my folds.
“I told you not to follow me out here, Fern.” Cairo drapes himself over me, already thrusting languidly, like he has all the time in the world even though my body is barely considering relenting for a second round. “I wonder how many times I can make you come, hmm?” He nuzzles the side of my throat.
“Maybe if you’re good—after a few more times—I’ll carry you home before I fuck you again. Doesn’t that sound nice of me?”
“I think I hate you—” My words end in a yelp, and I jerk forward, only for Cairo to drag me back.
He laughs, a guttural chuckle. “Really? That’s such a shame.” His hand splays on my stomach, and I’m pressed against him so tightly I can almost feel his heartbeat against my back. “I’ll have to see if I can change that before the sun comes up.”
Cairo does try, to his credit. Before he carried me home wrapped in a stolen jacket from the cabin, he tore two more orgasms from me, and had me seeing stars. By the time he’s let Moro out and I’m in bed, mostly asleep, I can barely remember my own name, let alone that I hate him.
But at his purr and the way he pulls me against him to lick and kiss at my neck while I drift off, I decide maybe I can try hating him for a little longer tonight. Just for show.
Chapter 24
Thunder rumblingoverhead makes this visit seem a lot more ominous than normal. With my hand curled around the styrofoam cup, I stare upward at the cloud-covered sky, considering how long the storm might last while I’m here, in front of Dr. Radley’s office, about to walk into my least favorite hour of the week.
At least the bruises have mostly faded. The ones on my neck are still a little present, but I no longer wince when I stretch too far. The claw marks are gone as well, not that she would’ve been able to see those, anyway.
Lightning flickers in the clouds, far away, and in a few seconds it’s echoed by the call of thunder that hasn’t quite committed to being more than a threat.
For some reason, I can’t help wondering about Hattie. Cairo wasn’t surprised when I finally got around to telling him about her, after…everything. I can’t help rolling my eyes now at nothing when I think of his slight frustration, even though he hadn’t given me any kind of real reaction.
Just stay away from her, little bird,he mumbled, already half asleep in my bed and covering my body with his.
Just…stay away.
As ifIever try to findher, rather than it being the other way around.
I shiver as the wind picks up, half-wishing I’d put on something more substantial than my t-shirt and running shorts. But there’s no hiding from therapy. Especially from Dr. Radley. With a defeated sigh, I pull open the heavy glass door, stepping up into the old building and onto its creaky wooden floor.
I still don’t know what’s housed on the first floor, to be honest. A few signs and paintings litter the walls, along with the incomplete directory by the wooden staircase. But apart from smelling like wood cleaner, there’s nothing down here to give me an idea of what it could be.
I’ve never seen anyone down here, either. No one to be found at the single antique desk by the back window, or by the filing cabinets tucked in the corner. For the first time, I don’t hurry myself along. I’m early enough and trying to kill time, so I stride over the old wood and gaze down at the too-clean desk. It’s almost…decorative, rather than functional. Like it’s made to look like a reception area, without actually playing the part when anyone is looking.
