Page 7 of House of Crimson Hearts
“You. Octavia. I want to drain the life out of you.”
“You’re sweet, but why don’t you tell me the truth?” She shoves her knee between my thighs, forcing me to spread my feet. She’s taller than me, so her thigh meets my crotch. My pussy is so swollen and wet I whimper at the touch, even though it’s through clothing.
She must sense my need because she drives her leg higher, forcing the contact. I moan and fall forward, slipping off the bridge railing. She grips me and pulls me back upright.
“Red,” she hisses.
“Fine. For blood’s sake, I need to come, okay?” I say. I feel like someone lit a match inside me. Like I want to fuck my way around the Midnight Market. Stab every vampire in the city. Haul the humans from the boat onto the bridge and fuck each and every one.
I’m invincible and vulnerable and hornier than I’ve ever been. I ache to rip the ropes off and fuck on the bridge cobbles. But I don’t want to tell her any of those things because I hate her. I hate what she’s done, who she is, but I hate her whole fucking species more than anything. Despite that, with her blood coiling through my veins, I need to fuck her.
“What’s your safe word?” she says.
And I’m not sure why the word comes to me, but I decide to use, “Elysium.”
Elysium? That’s an odd choice, even for me. It’s a small village on the outskirts of the city. I used to run patrols there a couple of years ago. Octavia stiffens behind me as if she hates the word.
“Problem?” I say, even though it’s tough shit. I’m keeping it, especially if she hates it.
“No problem.” She relaxes against me and then grips my chin, pointing my gaze down toward the boat.
“You’re going to get your orgasm, but you’re going to put on a show for those nosy little humans.”
“I will pay you back for this,” I spit, but my pussy is already pulsing at the thought of being watched. I’ve never fucked in public, but even the idea of it is turning me on so much I can feel the arousal in my knickers.
“I do hope so,” she says.
I glance down at the boat. It’s close enough the beat of their music drifts up to the bridge. It’s slow and bassy. At least three of the humans are on blood like me, you can tell by their frenzied expressions. Some are openly fucking on the wooden benches, or leaning against the boat’s hull, their cocks and pussies in other people’s mouths. The other half of the humans on the boat have ceased what they’re doing to watch us, enjoying the voyeur show from the shadowy canal.
Octavia’s hand slides from my back to my side and down my torso until she drops over my hip and thigh to one of my blade holsters.
I freeze. Is she going to kill me? Is that what this all was? A ploy to publicly slaughter the Hunter Academy’s chief of security. The shame. But she pulls a blade out of the holster and reaches around my front to press it against my crotch.
“What are you—” I start, but she flips the blade sharp side up and presses it to the fabric of my trousers. She slices my crotch in two.
I squeal as the blade catches my underwear, shredding that as well.
“Fuck,” I scream. “You could have cut me.”
“Then I’d have kissed your pretty hunter pussy better,” she says and my body melts, liquid excitement sticking to my bare thighs. I don’t care about anything anymore, I just need to fuck and come and fuck again.
She slides her knee between my thighs again, pinning me against the railing. She leans against my back and reaches out, gripping the sides of my trousers and yanking, ripping them apart so my cunt is on display for the entire boat to see.
Then she drives her thigh up until it’s pressing against my slick folds.
“Now, put on a show like a good girl,” she says into my ear, her words trickling down my neck.
“What do you—” I start.
She shifts her thigh, pulling it back and pushing it forward, moving it over my cunt. Pressure flows over my clit.
“Fuck,” I whimper and grip the stone rail tighter so my legs don’t give out. The sensation spills out from my clit and into my entire body.
She shunts into me, her body pressing against my back and arse. I try not to think about the fact that the height difference means her pussy is against my arse. She grabs my hips, pulls me back over her thigh and then shoves me forward, dragging my pussy against her smooth leather-clad thigh.
I don’t miss the fact that neither of us are touching skin to skin. It’s my pussy, her leather-covered thigh. And yet, the electric sensations are consuming.
She must read my mind because she grazes my earlobe with her teeth, sending another exquisite shiver down my spine and says, “Do you want me?”
