He reaches down with one hand, finding my clit, and begins to stroke his fingers over it, making me arch my back.
He growls again, and I think he’s telling me to hold still.
I obey, trying not to move as his fingertips circle my clit with gentle pressure, coaxing that deep pressure to start in my low stomach. My eyes are still closed, my lips parted, breath coming heavier now.
Our bodies are slick with sweat, both from the passion and the heat of the fire still flickering in the hearth.
His cock stretches me further, sinking as deep as it can go. And still he feeds from me, jaws clamped around my throat, my blood flowing freely into his hungry mouth.
Severin told me he’d submit to me, but I’m doing the same. And it doesn’t make me feel smaller or any less significant. It makes me feel... wanted. Needed.
I’m giving him something I’ve never given to anyone else. Something I never in my wildest dreams ever thought I’d give. But now, I can’t imaginenotgiving my blood to Severin. It’s the most vulnerable thing I can offer to him.
And I know he sees the offer for how precious it is.
He presses his length into me, rocking me softly against the plush hold of the mattress. His fingertips circle my clit again, and I feel my orgasm rising, being coaxed out by each featherlight stroke.
I bite my lip and hold my breath. And then he takes me to my peak.
When I cum, it’s hard and breathless and dizzying. It’s a swirl of color behind closed eyelids and a feeling of drifting out of my body, untethered, like a leaf caught in an autumn breeze.
Severin drives his cock into me harder, faster, never releasing his hold on my throat as he fucks me through my orgasm. I’m so wet around him, there’s no resistance as he plows me into the mattress. Even my thighs are slick, and the blanket beneath me feels damp.
I reach up, wrapping my arms around him, and dig my nails into his skin. Then I whisper, breathless, “Cum for me, Severin.”
Chapter 35
Severin
I’M HIGH ON THIS—ON Maeve’s soaking cunt gripping my cock, her blood swirling in my mouth and across my tongue. I know I could lose myself in her, become lost in the ecstasy and never claw my way back to the land of the living.
But I have to. Because this is Maeve. And I refuse to hurt her, refuse to draw more blood from her than I need—even if I so badly want to gorge myself on it, become drunk on her and never sober up again.
When she cums for me, her pussy tightening and fluttering around my cock, I almost lose it, almost explode in her tight, wet heat. But I resist.
Until she whispers to me, her nails digging into my back, “Cum for me, Severin.”
I have to pull out of her. I have to slide my fangs from her throat.
But I don’t want to. My instincts tell me to keep going, to be voracious, to be greedy.
No, I tell myself.She trusts me. And I’ll not betray that trust.
I call on my discipline—or what remains of it when I’m around her. And as my balls squeeze, getting ready to release, I force myself to loosen my jaws. My fangs and cock slide free of her, and I cum hard, releasing my load all over her pussy and low belly, painting her sweaty body in cum. My head falls back as Maeve’s legs slip from around my waist to fall to the bed. Eyes pinched closed, I continue stroking myself and breathing through each massive release.
It’s dizzying, disorienting. And through it all, Maeve’s blood swirls inside me, making my veins tingle with warmth, with something that feels like sparks of lightning. My senses feel sharper too, like they’ve been run over a whetstone.
I’ve never felt like this after a feed before. Drinking from a live vein always results in a sort of high, and I’m certainly feeling that, but I’ve never experienced something like this. My body feels electric, and as I open my eyes and look down, I half expect to see light glowing from beneath my skin.
Instead, I see Maeve, sprawled on the soft mattress, her hair a beautiful mess, her eyes closed as she tries to catch her breath. And on the side of her neck, there are two round puncture wounds, still dripping blood.
Fuck.
I quickly lean down and trail my tongue across the marks, making her tremble at the contact. A vampire’s saliva has a chemical compound that slows bleeding and encourages wound healing, and one swipe of my tongue across her wounds stems the blood flow. It doesn’t heal them right away—she’ll be sore for some time after this—but it prevents her from bleeding further.
Her eyes are still closed, and suddenly, I need to see them, need to hold her gaze with mine and make sure she’s okay. Make sure thatwe’reokay.
I place one hand on her cheek and brush my thumb along the soft spot beneath her eye.
