Page 83 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens
My breathing hilted as I moved my face closer to his. He wanted me in control.
Our lips brushed together as we gazed into each other's eyes. His warm breath tickled my lips, patiently waiting for my next move.
I slowly closed the gap until my lips covered his. I kissed him with force I didn’t know I had. I’d never kissed anyone on my own accord and I savored every moment of it. I let all restraint go as the fear departed my mind. Francis returned the kiss with so much passion and care that I could not help the sound of pure joy from escaping my throat.
I was no longer in control of my own body: my own thoughts. All I knew was that I wanted more. Collecting all the pieces of bravery I possessed, I undid the buttons of Francis’ shirt. My fingers shook.
His skin was as smooth as a pearl, as cold as the morning of winter solstice. I ran my palms over his torso, memorizing every curve of his body. Every cut, every scar.
I broke the kiss, meeting Francis’ eyes for a moment before turning my back to him. I could only hope Francis did not see how much my body trembled with anxiety as I undid the bow of my gown. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted this. I needed this.
Francis put his hands on the first button of my nightgown. “May I?” His voice sent a shiver down my spine for all the wrong reasons.
“Yes,” my voice was barely a whisper, the anticipation burned me alive.
“Have you—” Francis whispered into my ear. “I mean, besides... him. Have you—”
“Yes,” I interrupted him. “Before the engagement.”
My gown slipped down my shoulders, covering my exposed chest in dozens of goosebumps. His breath tickled my ear, “Tell me what you want, my Princess.”
A shaky breath escaped my lips. “I want your lips.”
Roses bloomed deep down in my stomach, tightening my insides in their stems, scratching my skin in the most delightful way possible. The thorns pierced the bottom of my stomach, forcing a sweet sound of satisfaction from the depths of my throat.
A trace of his smile touched my skin when his lips brushed over my shoulder, gently making their way up my neck. Every kiss left my skin burning in fire, every breath left my soul demanding more. His hands held the sleeves of my dress, carefully avoiding my exposed skin.
My head flew backward, settling on Francis’ shoulder. My lips were desperate to find his, my hands urgently stretched out to feel his skin.
I buried myself into this man’s neck, counting every beat of his pulse. One, two, three. The dance made my head spin drunk.
Despite our small distance I wanted him closer. I wrapped his hands around my lower stomach, my back pressed against his chest. I needed him closer.
“What else, my Princess?” he said against my cheek.
His low voice woke up the part in me I’d never known existed. My mind quieted, leaving instinct to speak for me. I could not resist the urge to feel the forbidden desire any longer. I wanted it now, more than anything in my life.
I crooked my head, exposing my neck. “Please.”
A low moan escaped his lip.
“Please,” I begged.
My trembling hands slowly shifted the ends of my undone braid over my shoulder. Fear and excitement rushed through my veins as my heartbeat quickened.
“I will keep you safe,” Francis said softly before his sharp teeth pierced my thin skin, forcing my lungs empty.
A quiet cry escaped me as the sweet pain rushed across my body: straight into my mind. My breathing hilted with every passing moment, my eyes rolled back.
The blood rushed toward my open wound, happily departing my body. Unable to keep quiet any longer, I let out a loud moan that echoed through the room.
More.I wanted to tell Francis, yet I forgot how to speak.
My throat itched and burned at the idea of my blood on Francis’ lips. I brought his hand toward my lips.
My mouth opened, anxious to feed the foreign creature within the depths of my soul. My lips wrapped around his thumb; his hand gently grasped my chin. I sucked on it until my teeth broke through his skin, letting the blood flow onto my tongue.
I gasped when the first drop reached my throat, cooling the fire that grew within. My tongue danced across his open wound, absorbing his blood like a sponge.
