Page 16 of Desired for Her Blood
“Ah!” I try to respond, but I can’t form words.
His tongue circles my clit and then his finger—finally—presses inside me. I can’t even gasp now, there’s no air left in my lungs to fuel it, and I delight in the penetration, thick but shallow, and so delayed that even having a single finger, and only up to his first knuckle, is more than enough to fill me.
His finger twists inside me, swiveling as if testing, and then pushes further. Then he pauses, transferring his attention back to my clit.
Axe sucks my responsive nub, and then licks, and then sucks, and I’ve never felt anything like the sensation of his firm tongue, rough and soft at the same time, as if the skin there was designed to bring me pleasure.
“Ready?” he asks against my sex.
“Yes,” I gasp, unsure of what he’s asking but not caring. I’m ready for whatever he’ll offer.
Then his finger presses deeper inside me, completely filling me, and I squeeze against it, loving how I can sense its structure, feel the girth and bend of its knuckles and its tip as it hits the end of my eager channel.
Licking my clit again, he slides his finger, dragging it through me with deliberate slowness, his skin and the light hairs on his finger abrading my insides in the same way his tongue is stroking my clit. The pleasure builds higher than I ever thought possible. But still I want more.
I want that massive cock more than I can begin to describe.
“I need more,” I cry out. “Your cock, Axe. Please.”
His tongue slows, and his finger slides nearly out of me, pausing at the entrance.
My hips writhe in anticipation. Is he actually going to take me with that huge cock? I asked him to do it,beggedhim with my tone, but fear starts to take hold. What if I’m wrong? What if heistoo big? What if I can’t heal from what he might do to me?
A second finger joins with his first and together they press inside me, stretching me as they go. I moan, a sound coming out of me I don’t recognize. My body can’t fully register what it’s feeling at first, both pain and pleasure, but as his fingers reach their limit, the base of his hand striking my skin, I explode.
Lights spark in the darkness behind my eyes and my insides convulse with ferocious contractions more powerful than any orgasm I’ve felt in the past.
Is it Axel’s fingers? His tongue? Or Ryker’s blood that has intensified my body’s reaction? Who knows? Who cares?
I can barely think, can barely detect that I have any body part besides my pulsating inner muscles.
When I start to regain my senses, I realize that Axel’s fingers are now plunging inside of me, driving in and out against my contractions, making them last, stealing my sanity.
One of my legs has somehow slipped over his shoulder as he kneels on the ground in front of me and his fingers drive harder and faster, defying my muscles that seem to both fight his progress and invite more.
“Would you like to try three?” he asks, and then licks my clit again.
“More.” The ambiguous word escapes my throat.
By three he must have meant another finger, but I only know I want more, I want everything he’ll give me.
His fingers slow, pausing at my entrance, and then they twist as I feel myself stretching again.
He slowly corkscrews his three fingers inside me twisting them back and forth as they progress, as if they’re drilling a hole. But they are much more than welcome and as my orgasm subsides I concentrate on letting my inner muscles relax, wanting him to know that the much thicker intrusion is very much welcome.
“More,” I say again on a hard exhale and he starts pumping his fingers inside of me. He adjusts my body, so my knee is hooked over his shoulder, my other leg dangling off the ground as his fingers push, lifting me with each forceful strike.
“Shit,” he says, slowing. “My pinky has…”
“Don’t stop.” I realize that he’s telling me that all four of his fingers are now pounding inside me, his whole hand, but the added pressure is beyond exciting especially as the thick base of his fingers forces me open. I’m stretched, to be sure, but the pain of it seems to only heighten the pleasure, as if the two feelings are working in tandem and I have no distinction between them.
I can barely tell what I’m feeling, only that I want it to continue.
“You feel so good on my fingers,” he moans. “If only…”
“Do it,” I cry out. “Take me with your cock.” I gasp for air, having exhausted it all with my unexpected outburst. I can barely recognize the person who said those words. Who is she? Who have I become?
Right now, I don’t care.
