Page 68 of Bite
I cup her mound firmly, feeling the heat of her through the nylon. “I should’ve. But I like that you tested the boundary. Keeps things interesting.”
Color rises high on her cheeks. “Are you really not hungry?” she whispers.
I meet her eyes, letting the truth shine through. “Starving.”
She reaches down, covering my hand with hers. “You can… if you want. Probably not here, but…”
“I want,” I growl. “But I’d rather get you alone first,mea dulcis.”
She nods, relief flooding her features. I lean in, brushing her hair off her cheek, lips at her ear.
“Finish your drink,” I murmur. “Then I’ll take you home.”
She obeys. I bring my hands up to rest on the table and sit back, content, watching her drain the glass.
Outside, the car waits at the curb with the engine idling, headlights bleeding yellow into the damp night. Cold mist drizzles down– too light to be snow, too heavy to ignore. Taylor walks beside me, her gait unsteady, hands buried deep in her coat pockets. I usher her in first, then slide into the back seat beside her, the door closing with a satisfying thud.
The moment the driver eases away from the curb, I hit the button to seal the privacy partition. The world outside blurs into abstraction, a smear of neon lights and rain-streaked glass, leaving us sealed in our own capsule of darkness.
Taylor glances at me, lips parted, breath slow and shallow. Her pulse is a metronome in my ears, every beat of it calling to me, promising a pleasure so sharp I have to grit my teeth to resist claiming what’s mine.
She’s still tense, shoulders drawn like she’s bracing for impact. I reach over, slipping her hand from her pocket and curling my fingers around her wrist. Her skin is warm, her pulse a steady thunder just beneath the surface.
“Relax,” I murmur, dragging her closer until our thighs touch.
She doesn’t resist. If anything, she softens, tension melting away the moment I take charge.
Though she fights it sometimes, she enjoys submission. And I enjoy watching her surrender far too much.
My palm slides up her inner thigh, slow and deliberate, savoring the way her breath stutters and her legs part in unconscious invitation. My fingers trace the seam of her tights once more, the fabric now damp, her panties soaked through.
“You make it difficult to control myself,” I say, voice rough with hunger.
“Who said I want you to?” she whispers back, eyes locked on mine.
The words send a jolt straight to my cock, a groan rumbling from my throat before I can stop it. I love how she tempts me, how she dares the monster closer instead of running from it.
I pull her over to straddle my lap, the thin barrier of her tights doing nothing to dull the heat between us. My hands grip her ass, pulling her tight against me as I grind my hips upward, letting her feel every inch of my arousal.
She gasps, clutching at my shoulders, then leans in to press her lips to mine.
I’ve never been much for kissing– but for her, I indulge.
It’s urgent, hungry, her tongue darting into my mouth with surprising ferocity. I bite her lower lip– not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make her whimper.
“Take your clothes off,” I command.
She obeys, fumbling to shrug off her coat and pull her sweater dress over her head. The bra beneath it is flimsy, barely even covering her tits, and I’m far past patience. I rip it open with one sharp tug. She shivers as the cold air hits her bare skin, nipples hardening to stiff peaks.
I lean in to drag my tongue over one, then the other, savoring the sweet taste of her skin. She squirms in my lap, grinding downon the solid ridge of my cock with increasing urgency. I can feel her heartbeat through the soft skin of her chest, rabbit-fast and frantic.
Extending my fangs, I graze the tip of one against the curve of her breast, right over the thin artery there. She sucks in a sharp breath, eyes gone wide and wild.
“Do it,” she gasps, almost pleading.
I bite down. The pressure is precise, just enough to pierce, to let her blood well up and coat my tongue. The taste of her explodes in my mouth– salt and honey, fire and velvet. It’s better than any drug, any high, and I drink in slow, greedy pulls, letting the rhythm of her pulse dictate the pace.
Her fingers sink into my hair, pulling my face tighter against her chest. Her hips grind frantically, our bodies fusing into a singular circuit of hunger and relief.
