I grab her hand and close my mouth around her finger, licking my blood from her claw.
“Fuck, Jamie…” Her voice is coarse.
I move to the next finger, and she shivers. I reach for her other hand, pressing it between my legs, moaning as she palms my overhard cock, already throbbing and leaking from the feeling of her down my throat.
Her breath catches. “Jesus, what am I going to do with you…”
“Fuck me,” I breathe as I switch to the next finger.
“You’re lucky I just did,” she says, leaning close. “Or I would make averybad decision right now.” She trails a claw up my cock, digging in to the point of pain.
I whimper, heat blossoming in my brain.
“Is it going to make you more or less desperate if I let you cum right now? Behonest.”
My chest heaves with rapid breaths. I want to say whatever will keep Morgan’s hand against my cock, whatever will get me release.
But I can’t lie to Morgan.
“More desperate…”
“That’s what I thought.” She gives my cock a hard pinch, and I gasp. “Nowrelax, and let’s get you cleaned up.”
Morgan pulls me to my feet and picks up my t-shirt, using it to clean the trickle of blood from my back before holding it against my head. Her bones snap, and she slowly returns to her usual form.
“I’m fine,” I insist. “Head wounds just bleed a lot.”
“I’ll believe it when I see these clean,” she says.
Morgan leads me back through the expansive house, up a flight of stairs, and through a luxurious velvet-lined bedroom into a gleaming bathroom of gold and black marble. She sits me on the edge of the bathtub and gently parts my hair, dabbing with a clean washcloth.
Alcohol follows, and it stings, but I don’t wince.
“You’re tougher than I am,” Morgan mutters.
“I’m fine, really. I have a high pain tolerance.”
She runs her fingers through my hair, and I shiver.
“Maybe too high,” she says.
“I like it,” I murmur.
“I know. That’s the problem.”
Something tightens in my chest. “Why is it a problem?”
“Because I’m going to hurt you again. I’m not… I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
It’s so foreign, seeing Morgan unsure. And equally strange, being so confident myself. But I reach back and take her hand. “I want this,” I say with certainty. “You won’t do anything permanent. I’m sure of that.”
Morgan’s fingers trace under the collar. “I’m not sure I’m that strong…”
“I’m willing to take the risk.”
“It’s going to be different as the suppressants wear off,” Morgan says quietly, cleaning another puncture wound. “Worse.”
“I can take it.”
