Page 22 of Desired for Her Blood
His lips break away from mine and he holds my face in his hands. “Do you need to be fucked?” he asks casually, like it’s a job I might want him to perform.
My hips buck forward. “Yes. Please.” I don’t carewhyhe’s going to do it, as long as he does. My body needs to get past this raging desire, and my mind needs the distraction.
“May I…” He moans in a strangled sound I haven’t heard from Zuben before. “Are your arms okay?” He rubs their length, soothing the muscles.
“May I leave your arms where they are? Tied up like that?” His voice is deeper, a near growl and it’s clear from his tone what he wants.
The only other time Zuben took me, he bound my hands with his tie. Clearly he likes it this way and frankly, even though my arms are sore, I don’t care as long as he relieves my intense need.
His hand strokes down my side, and I exhale a thready breath at his touch. “It’s fine. Just fuck me.”
Before I finish speaking, his fingers part my thighs and one of them enters me, stroking gently, probing, testing.
“You are already very well lubricated.” His voice growls near my ear, and I nod.
Before I can react, he lifts me, hands on my ass, and his cock drives forward, going deep on the first pass.
I gasp as pain and relief flood through me at once. Relief of some of my sexual urges, but also relief because his lifting me has taken the pressure off my outstretched arms.
“This okay?” he asks as he slides inside me.
“Yes,” I hiss.
And then, gripping my ass tightly, he starts to pump. His thrusts accelerate from zero to sixty in a flash, moving so quickly I can’t distinguish the second intrusion from the third or the hundredth, and an orgasm overtakes me in what feels like seconds after my answer.
But even as I come, he doesn’t slow down.
His hips pump at a blistering pace and his arms pull me forward to meet each drive and it’s such a relief. It feels so good that I want to sing, and I don’t want it ever to end.
But I wish it weren’t so dark. I wish I could see his expression,anyevidence of his pleasure.
In spite of claiming I didn’t care if he was fucking me like it was his job, I do care. And I want to know that this is more than just a task for him to complete.
“Ember,” he says, slowing down so that I can now differentiate between each deep thrust. “I cannot…I do not…”
“What is it?” I ask, each word squeezing out of me on the impact of a thrust.
“I do not want to hurt you, but…”
“You won’t.” I look toward the faint shape of his head, hoping he’s got his eyes open, hoping he can see how my body is greedy for his.
“I cannot…” In a flash, he pulls out of me.
He turns me, somehow unhooking and re-hooking my bound hands in an instant, and I’m now facing the stone. Holding me aloft with his hands at my hips and my feet far off the ground, he drives into me again from behind.
I gasp at the new angle of penetration. It feels so much deeper. One of his arms wraps around my pelvis to support me and tug me against his thrusts as the other moves up to my throat, holding my chin high as the rapid, hard drives accelerate.
I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so completely at the mercy of another person, as Zuben pounds into me from behind, pushing me up with each thrust, against the opposing force of both his arm at my waist and his hand squeezing firmly around my neck.
The feeling is precarious, dangerous. If he loses his grip, my skull will smash against the stone, or he’ll break my back or my neck, and if he squeezes just a tiny bit tighter he’ll strangle me.
I should be afraid. Maybe I am, but I love it. I love this feeling of being right on the edge, like I’m riding a rim at the top of a mountain threatening intense pleasure and death at once. And the near total darkness only adds to the experience, like I’m in a sensory deprivation tank that only admits feelings centered in my sex and my throat.
Zuben gasps. His hand releases my neck, shifting to my shoulder, and I suck in air, trying to catch a full breath again, but that’s difficult even now given the speed and violence—the unrelenting force of his cock.
Each of his thrusts seems to press against my lungs, keeping them from fully expanding, and even though his hand’s no longer around my throat, I still have that feeling of near choking, of fighting for air.
His finger finds my clit and he rubs as he keeps pushing into me from behind, and my hips struggle to find the freedom to buck, to move against his touch. But his hold is too strong; my entire body’s trapped between one strong arm wrapped around my hips and his cock slamming into me so quickly from behind.
