Page 83 of Storm of Ink and Blood

She struggled against him. “Kind of.”

He brushed his nose against the shell of her ear and whispered into her skin, “I like it, too.”

Her breath grew tight as his hand slid across her stomach. He walked her back until he collapsed onto a bench against the wall, taking her down with him, tucking her between his spread legs with the dagger’s blade still biting her skin.

“If I pressed a little harder. Drew more blood. Would that turn you on, Spitfire?”

“I… no…”

He laughed low and dark. “I think you’re lying.”

Then she felt the knife’s sharp pressure and a warm trickle slide down her neck. With his free hand, he swiped up the drop and then sucked it off the tip of his finger. Her stomach swooped as a pulse throbbed between her thighs.

She’d definitely been lying.

“Every part of you tastes like heaven,” he growled as he pulled her tighter towards him, where she felt the hard evidence of his cock against her ass. Then his hand returned to her stomach. “Do you still want to take things slow?”

“That was also your idea,” she said as his hand slid lower, coming to a stop just above the slit in her skirt.

“Never listen to me,” he murmured as his fingers dipped under the fabric. Almost involuntarily, her legs widened in invitation. He rumbled in approval as his fingers brushed the aching wet spot over her underwear.

She whimpered as he delivered light touches that were already driving her mad. “Rabin,” she snarled, and he chuckled against her ear as he did another sweep that made her legs tremble in response.

She was consciously aware of the knife still pressed against her throat but decided she liked it there. Something about feeling like his prey did scandalous things to her insides.

He then reached under her knee and hooked her leg over his thigh, spreading her wide.

“How’s this, Spitfire?” he asked as his fingers danced along the inside of her thigh. She couldn’t quite form syllables into words, a sharp exhale of breath sticking in her throat. Slowly, his hand worked up the inside of her leg, once again finding the thin fabric covering her aching center.

He lifted a hand and she watched in fascination as his fingers swirled with black smoke before they morphed into a set of sharp dragon claws. Her eyes widened. She had no idea he could do that. Then, in a flash of movement, he shredded her underwear before his fingers returned to normal once again.

“Oh my gods,” she breathed, unable to contain herself. A cool breeze brushed against her wetness, and then, finally, his finger slid along the crease before he circled her clit with a thick finger.

“Fucking dripping for me,” he murmured.

She huffed out a breathless laugh as she felt the edge of the blade bite into her skin. He seemed to realize it because he asked, “Do you want me to take it away?”

“No.” The word slipped out, and she could practically feel his approval.

“That’s my girl.”

He then pushed his finger inside of her as she gasped, her head tipping against him as he used his thumb to circle her clit while he pumped in and out. She felt him add a second finger, the sensation stretching and filling her as he curled them in, eliciting a whimper as she felt her release already climbing.

She clung to his thigh, her fingers digging into hard muscle as he continued pumping into her, driving his fingers deep before he circled her clit with her own release, as her stomach tightened and her fingertips tingled.

“Hold still,” he whispered. “You don’t want to cut yourself.”

She moaned as he continued, his motions becoming rougher. Her hips writhed as her eyes fluttered before he tossed the dagger away and fisted his hand into the back of her hair, tilting her head back to expose her throat before his teeth sank into her flesh.

She cried out as her orgasm ripped up her spine, flipping her inside out. She moaned as the wave crested over and over as he continued touching her, and that magical sensation of his bite filtered into every drop of her blood.

When she finally stopped shuddering, he pulled out his fingers and his teeth, licking her neck and lapping up a warm trickle of blood.

Then she looked up at him, into his dark stare, alive with those shimmering golden flecks.

“That was…”

She stopped because she had no idea how to describe any of that.