Page 77 of Taste of Blood
“Shh.” I lick the blood off my lips and continue my oral explorations while my hand finds his cock again, my thumb massaging the precum-slickened head. Digging into the slit so he twitches and shudders, his teeth clenching while my mouth moves lower, nibbling at his flesh. Breaking his skin.
Bleeding him.
Tasting him.
I’m drunk on his blood, but I leave more smeared across his tattooed flesh. A Picasso in shades of black and red. I want to capture the sight, to drink him in. To lap up the mess I’ve made of him.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” I murmur.
My hand works his cock until he’s rock hard, his back arching, his pelvis straining toward me, and then I back off, pressing my thumb against his slit again. He growls in frustration.
His struggles only serve to urge me on. I pump his cock a few more times, enough to leave him gasping for relief, then stop and squeeze while he writhes against me for friction.
“Ash, you sadistic fuck,” he gasps.
“Oh baby, you say the sweetest things.”
I give his cock another squeeze, and he bucks against my hand, whimpering for release, but I set up a pattern of squeeze and hold, keeping him right on the edge. The pace is torture forboth of us. I don’t know how long I can keep it up, and yet I never want it to end.
He pulls at the rope, trying to free his hands, and I know he’d flip me over if he could get free, but I have faith in my knots. I’ve done this to him too many times.
I crawl down his body and grab his ankles, pushing his legs over my shoulders to give me access to his ass. Before I take him there though I mark him again, biting his groin. Smearing the blood up to his cock.
So beautiful.
Mine.
The word repeats in my mind like a mantra as my tongue flicks out and teases his hole before flattening and licking along his taint. He whimpers and squirms, wiggling his ass against me.
I dig my tongue into his hole, straining to get as deep as I can.
“Fuuuck,” he grunts. “More. Please. I…fuck.”
I chuckle to myself as he twists and bucks against the rope. If he could only see how gorgeous he looks like this, coming undone before me with my marks on his flesh and his blood smeared over them. I wish I had video of it so I could watch it whenever we’re apart.
“Fuck me, Ash.”
“I will.”
As soon as I get my fill of your taste.
While I tongue fuck his hole, I reach up to squeeze his cock again. He whimpers and strains against my hand as his eyes find mine, his face slack with lust. A small trail of drool leaks from the corner of his mouth, and I find myself wanting to lick it clean.
But first I need to edge him to the brink of madness. I push one finger in his hole to join my tongue and find his trigger. Probing his sweet channel. I know I’ve found my target when he nearly jumps off the bed.
I add a second finger and press against his prostate while I squeeze the head of his cock until it’s swollen and red.
He’s whimpering and cursing me, panting like he’s run a marathon, and while I should have mercy on him–god knows my own cock is about to burst–I can’t seem to stop. Not until he comes completely apart.
“I need to come. Please. Let me come.”
The only reason I stop is because I need it as badly as he does. I take one last swipe at his ass with my tongue then trail it up his crack to his balls. Sucking them into my mouth. Rolling my tongue over them until he’s whimpering incoherently again.
I release his balls and run my tongue up the veiny underside of his cock, flicking it back and forth up and down his length. He groans as I close my mouth around the head, tonguing his slit, then pulling back and releasing him.
His cock looks painfully hard and almost purple. I know it won’t take much to get him off now. I push up off him and reach across to the bedside table to grab the lube.
“Finally,” he sputters.
