Page 116 of House of Crimson Kisses
She sucks in a breath, her nostrils flaring. This is what I wanted. I plead silently that she will take me. Make me hers.
I keep my eyes on her the whole time as I lower myself onto my calves. Spreading my knees. I rest my hands, palms up, on my knees. I tear my gaze away from her face, lowering my head in submission.
“I can’t,” Octavia says.
But I’m not giving up. I refuse to when I recognise that she needs this, too. She needs me to submit, to prove I am still here despite putting my trust in the wrong person.
And I need her to punish me, hurt me, and make me feel anything but the agony in my heart right now.
“You need to feed,” she says. But I stay where I am, keep my palms up and my head lowered. Until I hear her switch into the dom she needs to be right now, I won’t get up. I won’t move.
We both need this.
“Don’t...” she says, the energy in the room shifting. My skin tingles with it.
“Fuck, Verity.”
It’s coming. I’m pushing her hard enough her tone is changing. She paces the room fast. Her fist slams down on the chest of drawers. I don’t flinch. I don’t raise my head.
My heart rate climbs, slamming against my ribs as I wait patiently for her to come around.
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” she purrs.
There it is.
“Hello, Mistress Beaumont,” I say, careful to keep my eyes lowered.
“Did I tell you to speak?”
I shut my mouth. Blood rushes around my system, heat pooling between my legs, and the first pulse of pleasure washes through my clit.
“Safe word,” she says.
“Elysium,” I respond instantly.
“Good. You’re going to feed, as will I...” she lets the words hang in the air. “I think you need to be reminded of who you belong to, Verity.”
She rummages in a drawer and returns with a rope. Kneels and lifts my hands off my knees to loop the rope around both my wrists and knot it. She gives it a tug to check the pressure and hauls me up by the rope until I’m standing.
“We’re going to feed from each other because I don’t think you have much time left. I’m hoping the bond will help stave off the real need here, which is for you to... transform.”
She avoids saying the truth of it, which is that I need to feed from a human, and instead leads me across the room to a chain hanging from the ceiling. On the end of it is a hook.
“I am tired of you not trusting me. Tired of doing the right thing and constantly being hurt. I want you to desire me the way I desire you.”
“I do,” I say without thinking.
Her hand rears back and smacks me on my naked arse.
“I am speaking. You will talk only when I give you permission.”
My skin tingles with the imprint of her hand. I can sense the shadow of every finger that touched my cheek. She lifts my hands and drops the rope over the hook. I’m short, which means I am more or less on my tiptoes.
Octavia steps back, admiring her work. She nods and painfully, slowly, she unbuttons her top. Each button pop, pop, popping as if to tease me.
She takes her time, making me watch every movement, every flick of her fingers.
I lick my lips, knowing exactly what those fingers can do, especially pressed against my skin, thrust inside me.
