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Belladonna’s eyes shine in a worrisome way, but she’s smiling. “I know I’ve said I don’t believe in hell, which means I probably shouldn’t believe in heaven, but when I did believe, this is kind of what I always imagined heaven to be like.”
I shake my head. “This is real life, little one. There are occasionally challenges with doing things this way. They’re usually easily surmountable, but the fact remains that the challenges exist.”
I don’t know what I expect her to say in response to that, but she licks her lips. “I want to kiss you.”
The moment feels unreal. I haven’t been nervous about kissing someone since I was young, awkward, and filled with more need than I knew how to satisfy. That was years and years ago, and yet my hands shake as I slowly cup Belladonna’s hips. “I want you to kiss me.” I tug her closer. “Please.”
She slowly mirrors my position, taking my hips. It’s a little awkward but somehow sexier for it. Then she goes up onto her tiptoes and kisses me. It’s a light sensation, a faint brushing of her lips to mine, a sweet touch that seduces me right down to my soul.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. From the moment I agreed to Azazel’s deal, I intended to care for my chosen human, to ensure she was protected and her every need was seen to. But I didn’t expect to feel all these ways. Protective and needy and so fucking angry. I want to slice her family to pieces, to burn their damned church to the ground, maybe to burn every church to the ground to save the future Belladonnas of her realm. This fury is not me, but as she sighs into my mouth, I’m having a hard time remembering why I can’t do all that, beyond the logistics of not being able to travel to the human realm.
All the while, I hold her gently. I allow her to explore my lips, then finally part them and let her inside when it becomes clear she doesn’t know how to ask. Even then, I keep the majority of my desire chained and choked. The kiss grows, warm and slick and needy—and us. No magic paves the way to her submission.
She leans in, or maybe I tug her closer, and then she’s pressed to my body, her softness a temptation I want to explore with my tongue. I stumble back, taking her with me, to sit on the edge of the desk. I’m tall enough that she ends up straddling my thigh.
Belladonna gasps so sweetly at the contact to her pussy through her pants. That should be enough to shock me back to my senses, but the spell of desire is too strong. I slip my hand around to cup the base of her skull. Desire, we’ve had in abundance. This feels deeper, stronger. Need doesn’t begin to cover it.
She loops her arms around my neck and gives herself over to me completely. The trust nearly sends me to the floor. It chains me all the tighter. I am filled with as much conflict as Belladonna carries inside her daily.
Go gently.
The reminder is what I needed in order to snap me back into the moment, away from the fear of misstepping. I stroke my hands down her back to cup her hips. Her kiss goes frantic for the first time as I guide her to roll her hips and rub herself against my thigh. Desperate. Needy. Begging for more.
I have more to give.
15
BELLADONNA
I’ve wanted to kiss Rusalka for days. Maybe from the moment I met her. I don’t know. I can’t think when she’s kissing me like this, like she has all the time in the world, like she wants to memorize my taste, like maybe she actually cares about me for more than what I’m able to give her. The thought boggles my mind.
Or maybe it’s the slow friction against her thigh that’s boggling my mind and scattering my thoughts. My whole body lights up with the contact. She seems to know it, though I can’t begin to guess if it’s due to her succubus powers or simply instinct. Rusalka always seems to know what I need.
My panties are slick with my need, which adds to the grinding desire that sparks through my veins. Again and again.
Rusalka keeps one hand at my hip and bends me back a little so they can kiss down my jawline to my throat. They drag their tongue over my pulse as if they can taste it beneath my skin. “Come for me, little one.”
My brain blanks. I try to wrest control back, to frantically grind at their leg, but Rusalka holds me steady, forcing me to keep the rhythm slow.
She chuckles. “Slow, Belladonna. Some things can’t be rushed.”
I don’t understand that. The only times I dared touch myself in the dark of the night were frantic guilt-ridden experiences that I simultaneously craved and wanted over as quickly as possible. Even after I left the church and became determined to go my own way, I couldn’t shake the shameful feelings when stroking myself to completion.
She doesn’t let me lead, and somehow that unblocks something in my brain. I don’t have to fight this. I can simply allow the river of lust to take me and trust Rusalka to care for me.
As soon as the thought fades, my body takes over. The hot knot of need in my core explodes. “Rusalka,” I sob out. “Oh... my... I...” I keep speaking, but the words lose any meaning.
They keep my hips rolling for a few more beats and then ease me back to slump against them. They rub slow circles on my back as I learn how to breathe for what feels like the first time. I try to tense, prepared for the wave of shame that always comes after anything sex related, even if it only happens in my head. The shame is there. I can feel it waiting in the wings. But it can’t touch me right now, not as I’m safely encircled in Rusalka’s arms.
I bury my face in their throat and hug them tightly, wanting this moment to last forever. It’s only as my heartbeat slowly returns to normal that I realize how selfish I’ve been. I try to lift my head, but Rusalka catches me. “What brings that tension into your body, Belladonna?” they ask carefully.
It strikes me that they’ve been careful with me from the beginning. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from that. I swallow hard. “You didn’t... I didn’t...”
She laughs softly. Kindly. “This isn’t tit for tat, little one. I don’t require an orgasm just because I gave you one. Your pleasure is enough for now.”
I want to keep arguing, but Ramanu’s question circles in my head, stalling me. Am I pushing this because I want to or out of obligation? Even as I wonder, I know the truth. I crave to see Rusalka undone in the same way that they undid me. “I want to.”
Their hand pauses its tracing of soothing circles on my back. “Next time, little one.”
