Instead of taking the bait to mock me—a sign that he’s still not all there—he knees my legs apart and then slowly crawls his way up my body. Stradling my right thigh where my dick is attempting to bust a seam, he runs his nails down my chest, eliciting a convulsive shiver throughout my body. Red scratches follow the trails of his fingers, and my breaths grow ragged from the pleasurable pain of it all.
He leans down and licks one of the lines that runs down my right pec, and I have to grip the back of my head to keep from touching him. I don’t let things happen to me. I give as much as I take, so lying here while Nolan does whatever the fuck he wants is a fight against my basic nature, but I’ll do it because whatever is going on is eating him up inside, and it’s better that he takes it out on me than someone else he’d regret later.
Once he’s sure that I’ll stick to his rules, he relaxes enough to take what he needs. He bites me in a mirror position from his previous one, and I groan under the intensity of the venom that tears through me, lighting up every nerve ending in its wake. He falls into a different kind of frenzy, less animalistic but not any less desperate. His hands explore me, flicking my nipples, tracing the muscles along my ribs, and gripping my ass while he grinds against me—every action fed by his own desire and only heightening mine. His scent is unusual, a muskiness that isn’t normally there, and it drives my heart into a wild frenzy. I want to bury my nose against his neck and lick the sweat from his skin, but I keep my word, gritting my teeth as I lie submissively on the bed.
No longer starving, Nolan takes time to taste my skin while he drinks, his tongue undulating against me while his mouth makes a bruising seal over my flesh. He moans as he feeds and drops his full weight on top of me, smearing me with the same grease that coats his flesh. The skin-to-skin contact relieves some of the deeper, more psychological needs, but it does nothing to alleviate the horniness factor. My cock aches, and there’s nothing I can do about it as I play the part of the world’s most durable sex doll.
There’s no grace to his movements, none of his normal teasing seduction, just raw need. He rides my thigh like a kid who’s just figured out that rubbing his dick on things feels good, while one hand presses the side of my face into the bed, his sharp elbow stabbing me in the sternum, and the other claws my right arm. This artless attack normally wouldn’t do it for me, but with the venom heightening all my senses, it fulfills the painful pleasure that I crave—something I will never admit to for as long as I live.
It’s not long before he rips his fangs from my body and moans, “Fuck,” while the rest of his body spasms against me in a violent climax. I know he’s mostly back to himself when he sits up, looks down at the growing wet spot around his groin, and shouts a more clipped, “Fuck!” He quickly climbs off of me, muttering, “Damn it. Not again.”
“Again?” I mock, reaching down to adjust my junk into a less painful position.
“Shit,” Nolan curses, reaching for the button at my fly, but I wave off his hands.
“Touching my dick is a gift, not an obligation,” I explain in a teasing manner, hoping to remove the sting from the rejection. “I’ll take care of it later.”
Not seeming to care that I just turned him down, he nods woodenly and then shifts to sit on the side of the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he covers his face with his hands and releases a painful groan of regret.
“Welcome back, asshole.” I chuckle, standing up from the bed. Rolling my shoulders, I wince from the pain of the two bites he tore into me along with the bloody scratches down my torso.
“Fuck you,” he grumbles, not bothering to look up at me.
“Already told you that’s a no-go. You’re not in a position to handle all of this,” I taunt while making a grand gesture down my upper body.
He shows his face long enough to glare at me before returning to his shamed, hunched position. Everything about him telegraphs that he’s a fucking mess, and I can’t stand here and watch.
Grabbing one of his arms to drag him to his feet, I march us toward the bathroom. “I look like I just fucked a wolf, and you look like you haven’t seen soap in days. We’re showering, and you’re going tell me what the fuck is going on with you.”
“It’s got nothing to do with you,” he argues but doesn’t fight me over the shower. “It’s my shit to deal with.”
“The fuck did you just say?” I snarl, shoving him up against the doorframe to the bathroom. I don’t give him a chance to answer, continuing through gritted teeth. “Yourshit isourshit. It’s alwaysbeenthat way. It will alwaysbethat way. Now stop this single tortured soul crap and tell me what the fuck has turned you into… whatever the fuck this is.”
“You always have a way with words,” Nolan complains, but it’s half-hearted, his body language speaking of nothing but tired defeat.
I hide my concern with a hard glare and release him from my grasp. While striding into the bathroom, I command, “Speak.”
“Woof,” he replies snarkily as he follows me inside.
Tension eases from my back as I hear the smart-ass part of his personality return. Turning to face him, I give him an asshole smirk and praise, “Good boy. Do what you’re told, and I may give you a treat.”
Nolan’s eyes flick down to my extremely stiff dick and back up. He swallows heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing within his throat.There’s hope for you yet.
My smile grows, and I give him a wink. “Now strip down, get in the shower, and start by explaining what the fuck happened in here.”
I perform a circular gesture to encompass the bathroom that looks like a brawl happened and nobody won. The long mirror that hangs over the double sinks is smashed with fist-sized, weblike cracks. The foldaway doors that lead out onto the balcony are busted over the jacuzzi tub and now have clear tarps stapled around the frame. Shelves that used to hold spare toiletries and extra towels are either missing or cracked. At least the shower is mostly intact, only missing the handle to close the door.
“You know what happened,” Nolan answers quietly, peeling off his remaining clothing. He walks into the angular room that sports three different showerheads and a sealed view of the sun falling behind the forest of trees that line the back of the property.
“Actually, I don’t,” I retort, stripping down myself and following him in. Despite my best efforts, the shower door won’t swing shut. Feeling bad for whoever has to clean it, I leave it open and head toward the showerhead farthest from the door. “You wouldn’t tell me shit, and instead, I spent the morning cleaning up your mangled knuckles.”
Thankfully, the water is hot almost immediately, and I grit my teeth over the intensity of the spray against my oversensitive skin, the venom still roaming gleefully throughout my body.
Nolan catches my involuntary shiver and frowns. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I grunt, grabbing a washcloth and soap to start working on the blood and grease all over my body. “Stop trying to change the subject.”
“Here, let me do it,” he offers, holding his hand out for the soapy cloth. When I hesitate, he growls, “You have it all over your back. Give it to me.”
