Page 6 of Bitten & Burned
He let out a low, rough sound—part groan, part surrender—and lowered his face between my thighs. He lifted my legs over his shoulders with a grip that was both steady and sure. His tongue found me, pressing in slow, deliberate strokes with the same precision with which he’d drawn the curse from my blood. This, however, was no healer’s touch.
It was just as gentle, but it stroked toenflame, not soothe. His tongue flicked stiffly, tasting me and then devouring. A moan rippled through his body as his hands tightened on my thighs, holding me in place. I bucked my hips helplessly, and he flattened his tongue against me, alternating between flutters and flicks before closing his lips around my clit and sucking.
The world narrowed to the pressure of his mouth, the slick warmth of his tongue, and the merciless pull of his hands keeping me exactly where he wanted me. The coil inside me snapped—white-hot, blinding—and I cried out, shuddering against him.
Vael didn’t ease away until the aftershocks had wrung the last tremor from my body. Then he pushed up over me in one fluid, predatory movement, panting like a man fresh from the hunt. His face was wet with me, lips swollen, eyes so dark there was no trace of honey left—only darkness, raw and unrestrained. He tore open the buttons of his waistcoat, dragging his shirt free from his trousers. When his hands went for his fly, I batted them away, taking over with clumsyurgency.
The sharp sound he made when my fingers brushed him through the fabric went straight to my core. He stilled, watching with that dark, hungry focus, letting me shove the trousers open and push them down his hips.
I slid my hands under his shirt, palms skating over hard muscle before my nails raked down his back. He groaned—low, wrecked—and surged forward, pressing me down.
One smooth, deep thrust—slow enough to make me feel every inch—and then he was seated to the hilt. Heat flooded through me, stretching, filling, claiming, until my breath caught in my throat. The weight of him pressed me into the mattress, the steady push of his body pinning me there like he could hold me in place forever.
His breath hitched, head tipping back for a heartbeat before he looked down at me, eyes nearly black. “Good girl…have it… have all of me.” The words were a low growl, a command, telling me to take every inch and hold him there.
My nails dug into his ass, pulling him deeper, and the sound he made was nothing short of feral. His hips snapped once, hard, and the impact knocked a breathless laugh from me.
“Gods, Vael… if you stop now, I’ll hex you where it counts.”
The hex I threatened was only a memory, the kind of spark that once leapt eagerly at my call; now the words were theater, sharp edges dulled by the curse still etched into me.
His groan was rough, torn from somewhere deep, and he stayed there for a beat, buried to the hilt like he needed the anchor before he moved again. His eyes caught mine, sharp even under the haze. His tongue swept over his bottom lip, the barest ghost of a smile twitching there. He was doing his favorite thing: fucking me like he couldn’t breathe without it.
The glow from the lanterns washed over his pale skin, painting him in gold and shadow.
“Fast… slow…” His voice was already fraying. “Tell me.”
“You’re good at figuring things out,” I gasped, threadingmy fingers through his now-messy chestnut hair. “So… what do I want?”
His breath hitched, a flash of amusement cutting through the fire. “Cryptic little witch.”
The words sank into my bones before I could stop them. His hands closed over my hips, hauling me close, rolling and shifting us until I was straddling him. Now I could set the pace—but his touch never loosened. His lips grazed my ear, and I shivered, sinking into the feel of him moving inside me, into the way he could make my body obey without ever saying the word.
“Beautiful…” The word was nearly a growl. “Take what you want, Witchling.”
I did—rocking harder, faster, until he groaned into my neck.
“Fuck, Rowena…” His voice was nothing but gravel now. “Been thinking about this. Sotight.Warm.” His mouth brushed my jaw. “Mine.”
The single word rattled through me harder than any thrust.
“Keep talking like that, Vael,” I murmured. “I’ll never leave.”
He stilled—just for a beat—eyes dark as if he’d heard the truth under my tease. “…Promise?”
The word clung to me, heavy and wanting. I tilted my head, baring my throat before I could second-guess it.
His fangs grazed my shoulder, testing, before sinking in with a deep, unhurried bite. The shock of it made me gasp, the pleasure-pain curling hot and sharp through my nerves.
The instant my blood touched his tongue, something in him changed. Blood was scripture to vampires, curse and covenant alike, and the way he drank from me made the sigil’s hum falter, as if it too was listening. His breath hitched against my skin; his grip on my hips tightened until I felt the strength in every line of him. He drew me up, then pressed me down onto him again—measured and deliberate. Each motion forced him deeper, keeping me exactly where he wanted me.
I could feel him harden further inside me, the slow, controlled thrusts turning into a rhythm that was no less precise for its intensity.He wasn’t losing control. He was using it, every ounce of focus narrowed to the place where our bodies met, to the sound of my breath catching in time with his.
When he lifted his head, his mouth was wet with my blood, lips glistening where it mixed with the arousal he’d already coaxed from me earlier. He dragged them slowly up the curve of my throat, smearing the warmth of it across my skin, his breath hot and uneven. His grip on my hips was unyielding, dragging me down onto him over and over in that steady, maddening rhythm he knew would keep me right on the edge. The pressure wound tighter, hotter, until I felt stretched to the breaking point.
“You going to come for me again?” His voice was low and deliberate, each word sinking under my skin. “Going to soak my cock until I can’t think straight?”
The breath that left me was half answer, half desperate plea.
