But it was a quirk he absolutely enjoyed about her, from the very first time he’d fondled her in that black thong at the Conclave.
Fuck, she’d been stunning in that sinfully short dress.
Just thinking of it made his lips curl.
She’d needed his help to remove it.
Then he’d turned around like a proper gentleman while she’d undressed.
But there was nothing proper about him now.
“Hmm,” he hummed, drawing a finger from her collarbone down the center of her chest to her belly button. “I’m positively parched, Astasiya. I need more blood.”
A lie, of course.
He no longer required the essence of others to survive. His bond to Aya was turning him into a Seraphim, thereby curing him of his former Ichorian needs.
However, that didn’t mean he’d stopped enjoying the flavor.
Blood was the staple of Seraphim kind, what created the bonds between them, and the element that acted as a vessel of power. So it was only natural that he still enjoyed biting Aya, and from the flare of her nostrils, he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed it, either.
“Open your mouth, love,” he murmured.
She complied beautifully, her full lips parting to allow him to do whatever he desired.
He picked up the glass of wine and took a sip before bending to give her a taste. It was a drier red from Argentina that could use some sweetening.
His tongue fed her the wine, allowing her to familiarize herself with the flavor. She moaned, not because of the wine but because of the erotic sensuality of sharing the drink.
Issac kissed her, drawing out the moment while carefully holding the wine beside her head on the pillow. “You’re going to sweeten that for me, Aya,” he told her, his voice hushed and low and filled with dark promises.
He drew his nose along her cheekbone, loving the way her blush chased his touch. So decadent and beautiful.
His mouth skimmed her throat, pausing to kiss the place he’d bitten her in the hall before skating down to her shoulder.
He took her bra strap between his teeth along the way, taking it with him down the athletic curve to her arm, all the way to her elbow. It left the fleshier part of her breast exposed, the lace having caught on her stiff nipple.
Issac could see it easily through the fabric, the gauzy material merely masking the rosy color and giving it a slightly darker quality.
“You should have removed this, love. I could have moved a little quicker.”
“I prefer drawing it out,” she replied. “As do you.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, loving that she knew exactly how to play his games. She represented a conundrum for him that he’d never experienced. Because she knew his preferences yet made every embrace feel new at the same time.
It was intoxicating.
Addicting.
And so damn exciting.
He loved that she could keep up with him yet also make each encounter fresh.
Or maybe that was just his interpretation.
He would never tire of her. If anything, he felt like eternity would never be enough.
His lips feathered across the top of her breast to the fabric covering her nipple. He caught it in his teeth and tugged it down to expose her tit.
