Page 6 of Cry of Blood and Joy
Enzo’s palms pressed against my shoulders, his touch impossibly gentle as he guided me back down onto his jacket. The leather was warm now from our bodies, soft and familiar beneath my bare skin. His eyes never left mine as he positioned me carefully, making sure I was comfortable, that every part of me was cushioned from the hard floor.
“Now,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that made my stomach flutter with anticipation, “let me pleasure you.”
The promise in his words sent shivers racing across my skin. After giving him that piece of myself, seeing him come undone in my hands, now it was my turn to surrender. The thought both thrilled and terrified me—to be completely vulnerable, to let him see every reaction, every tremor of pleasure he could draw from my body.
His hands moved to frame my face, thumbs brushing tenderly across my cheekbones as he studied my expression with those dark, knowing eyes. “You’re so beautiful, Joy,” hewhispered, and the way he said it—like a sacred truth—made my heart ache with love. “Let me show you how precious you are to me.”
Warmth spread through every part of me, dizzy from feeling so treasured. In this haunted place, surrounded by shadows of the past, he was creating something pure and beautiful between us.
He carefully moved down my body, his hands trailing intimately along my skin as if mapping every curve, every sensitive spot. The way my red sundress was bunched around my waist, half on and half off, made everything feel more erotic—almost forbidden. There was something thrilling about being partially clothed, partially exposed, caught between innocence and desire.
My breath hitched as he paused, his dark eyes drinking me in with undisguised hunger. The intensity of his gaze made my cheeks flush with heat but also with pride. He looked at me like I was a masterpiece he wanted to spend hours appreciating.
When he finally lowered his head and his tongue found my eager nipple, I couldn’t suppress the shiver that raced through my entire body. The sensation was electric, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core. My back arched involuntarily, pressing myself closer to his warm mouth, and a soft gasp escaped my lips.
“Enzo,” I breathed, my fingers tangling in his dark hair as waves of sensation washed over me. The way he loved me—so thoroughly, so completely—made everything else fade away. The terror, the guilt, all of it vanished under his tender care, leaving only sensation and safety.
He gently parted my trembling thighs with determined hands, and I was exposed in the most beautiful way—vulnerable yet completely safe. My heart hammered wildly as he stroked the most intimate part of me, but the passion in his eyes chasedaway any trace of self-consciousness. His warm breath caressed my sensitive skin, making me gasp and clutch at his jacket beneath me.
When he finally lowered his mouth to me, the first touch of his tongue made me tremble from the overwhelming tenderness of it. He explored me like I was sacred ground, unhurried and utterly devoted. Each movement sent cascading waves of pleasure through my body that went beyond the physical. This was emotional healing, soul-deep connection.
“Oh god, Enzo,” I whispered brokenly. I tangled my fingers in his thick hair, trying desperately to steady myself as passion drummed inside me.
I felt precious. Cherished. Like every part of me, even the broken pieces, was worthy of this kind of love. The way he touched me wasn’t just about pleasure—it was about claiming me, healing me, showing me that despite everything I’d done wrong, I was still deserving of tenderness.
I squirmed beneath him as waves of sensation built higher and higher, but it was my heart that was the most overwhelmed—full to bursting with love for this man who could make me feel whole again with just his touch.
He rose from me and then settled onto his knees. “Turn over,” he instructed with a gentle firmness. I complied, uncertain yet curious about what he had planned. His hands gripped my hips with a firm yet tender hold, anchoring me in place. Slowly, deliberately, he entered me, a sensation of warmth and fullness spreading through me. He began to move, his rhythm starting with gradual, deliberate pulses that built in intensity like a gathering storm, growing more powerful and urgent with each thrust.
I rolled my hips, losing myself in the sensation, and grounded myself firmly against him, synchronizing with his rhythm. Each movement was deliberate, an intense desireurging me to draw him deeper and deeper, as if trying to merge our very essences.
My eyes blurred as a breathtaking sensation surged through me, like a tempest raging within. Each wave of emotion crashed over me with increasing intensity, pulling me deeper into the storm.
Enzo withdrew from me, leaving me aching and empty. Before I could protest, his hands were guiding me, helping me turn over onto my back. When he settled above me and entered me once more, I bit my lip to keep from crying out—I didn’t want my brother to hear me. The need for silence wasn’t just from the familiar, intense sensation of being filled by him, but from the emotional completeness that crashed over me. This was home. This was where I belonged.
I wrapped my legs tightly around his hips, pulling him deeper, needing every inch of connection we could share. The rhythmic pulse of his movements sent waves of heat through my entire being, and I could feel the supernatural energy radiating from him—dangerous and beautiful and completely mine. My hands glided desperately up and down the length of his back, mapping every ridge of muscle, every scar, claiming him as thoroughly as he was claiming me.
“Joy,” he growled against my skin like a curse, and the raw emotion in his voice made my heart shatter and rebuild itself all at once.
When he pulled back his upper lip, revealing those deadly fangs, my breath caught. I knew what was coming, and despite the fear that flickered through me, I tilted my head in offering—complete trust, complete surrender.
The bite, when it came, was ecstasy and agony intertwined. Pain lanced through me, sharp and consuming, but underneath it was pleasure so intense it bordered on madness. I screamed his name as our bodies moved together in desperate rhythm,flesh against flesh, heartbeat against heartbeat. The frenzy overtook us both—vampire and human, predator and prey, but more than that: two souls becoming one in the most primal way possible.
Through it all, even as sensation threatened to tear me apart, one thought echoed in my mind: I am his, and he is mine, and nothing—not Angelo, not my guilt, not death itself—can break this bond.
A wave of ecstasy erupted within me, sending powerful ripples of pleasure cascading through every nerve in my body. But it was more than physical—it was emotional release, spiritual healing, the shattering of every wall I’d built around my wounded heart. I cried out Enzo’s name as the intensity overwhelmed me completely.
My climax triggered his. I felt him tense above me, his fangs still buried in my neck as his body shuddered with the force of his release. He groaned against my throat, the vibration sending aftershocks through my already trembling body. His grip on me tightened possessively as he spilled into me, marking me as his in the most primal way.
“Joy,” he gasped against my skin, his voice broken with emotion and spent passion. I could feel his heart hammering against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
As we both came down from the heights of pleasure, I trembled against him—not from cold, but from the devastating truth that I was completely, utterly loved.
There was only this. Enzo and me, connected in every possible way, his fangs having bound us together as souls as much as bodies. We were one being now, hearts beating in sync, breathing the same air, sharing the same consuming love that was strong enough to conquer any darkness ahead.
Enzo looked down at me, his dark eyes searching my face with tender concern. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I laughed softly, the sound bubbling up from pure joy and contentment. Reaching up, I cupped his face and kissed his worried, pouting lips. “No. Not at all. Just the opposite.”
