Page 88 of Cruelly Bitten
I couldn’t break through his mental walls. They were impenetrable. And sex wasn’t helping.
Not even when he let me stay awake long enough to watch him fall apart.
Like now.
He had me straddling his lap, his movements penetrating me sharply with each upward punch of his hips. His fingers were locked in my hair, his mouth owning mine while his opposite hand palmed my ass.
I was sore.
Tired.
Used.
But he’d woken me with his cock, followed swiftly by his hands and a demand for me to ride him.
I’d obliged in a daze, my last memory of him fucking me into the mattress.
Days of sex weren’t exactly rare for us; Cam had always enjoyed long hours and nights in the bedroom. However, this was something else entirely.
It felt as though I’d been thoroughly introduced to my mate’s predator side.
No limits. No rules. No holding back. Just a beast taking his female in every way imaginable.
His fangs skimmed my lip, his bite imminent. It was his favorite way to force me to come. Not only did it feel good for him, but it also gave him an excuse to drink from me.
Which then left me with no choice but to imbibe more of his blood in return.
He’d started leaving vials of it for me on the nightstand. Other times, he’d fed it to me while I slept. Or I assumed he had, anyway. That was the only explanation for how quickly I’d regenerated.
I waited for his bite, my heart hammering in my chest, aware that it would wring every bit of energy from my veins, rendering me useless all day.
Again.
Except… the sting never came.
Just his tongue.
A gentle kiss.
A trick, I thought, confused by this change of pace after what felt like an eternity of beingbittenandfuckedto the brink of death.
His palm slid along my ass to my hip before slipping between us. I jolted as his thumb found my sensitive nub, his touch unexpected and so very desired.
Which I hated.
Ihatedhow I reacted to him. Hated how I loved his soft strokes. Hated how he set my blood on fire with a few simple touches.
My body had belonged to this male for so long, my heart and soul his in every way.
Even when he broke my trust.
Even when he hurt me.
Even when he no longer acted like the man I knew.
I still wanted him. Craved him.Lovedhim.
Tears collected in my eyes as I slowed my pace above him, our session revolving into a blissful memory of passion and tenderness.Thiswas how we embraced one another, how we showed our emotions and adoration.
