Page 85 of Mortdale

“Fuck.” He grew tense under me, heavily breathing in and out for long minutes. His face was buried in my hair, and his words were harsh, pained, and surrendered as he said, “Let me help you. I can help you.”

I quickly nodded, and he pushed back all the hair sticking to my face before shifting me on his lap, my back resting flush against his chest. With an arm banded around my waist, he pulled my hips even closer to his and spread each of my legs over his.

I could feel his quick breaths against my neck as he reached down to pull my dress skirts up. He paused, wrapping a hand over my jaw to turn my head to him. “Was this all you had on today?”

“You don’t pay me enough to put anything else on.”

He huffed a small laugh, and I was so mad at myself for not being right in the mind to witness it fully. Or to revel in the way the tip of his nose lightly skimmed down the length of mine before he left a quick peck on my lips.

He covered my hands with his, bringing two fingers to my mouth. “Suck. Get them wet.”

His chest rose fast against my spine as he watched me part my lips and slip my fingers against my tongue. “That’s good,” he murmured, dragging his teeth down my jaw before pressing a kiss under my ear. “Good girl.”

My body bucked against his when he guided my fingers between my naked thighs. His mouth found my neck, pressing slow, wet kisses down my pulse, as he slid my fingers down my sex, soaking them in my slickness. His nose traced the length of my pulse. “Do you have the slightest idea how good you smell to me?” He groaned, and it sounded pained. “Nothing’s ever smelled good to me. Not even close.”

My feet dug against the side of his calves when he brought my other hand to the apex of my thighs, rubbing soft circles over my swollen clit. He nuzzled the back of my head, kissing my spine as he slowly pushed one of my fingers inside me.

“Yes,” I breathed, dropping my head against his shoulder, writhing on his lap as he started to pump my finger in and out of me.

“Tell me what you feel like.” His quick breaths hit my shoulder as he gently bit down. “I know you feel so good.”

“Logan, I can’t,” I breathed, writhing, needing more as the weight in my belly grew denser. “I want more. I need more.”

My teeth drew blood on my lip, and I watched his pupils eat away at the gold until there were only two black, endless voids staring deep into mine. His unsteady breaths tickled past my parted lips as he slowly leaned in and wrapped his mouth around my lower lip, sucking on the cut. It wasn’t a kiss. Something messier, hungrier, more demanding. “This was such a terrible fucking idea,” he murmured, dragging his fangs lightly against my chin.

“You want to stop?” I shakily asked as he slid my other hand back to the apex of my thighs, pressing on that sweet spot until my vision drew blurry shapes.

“Fuck no,” he said, slipping a second finger inside me. “Like that, honey,” he groaned, pumping them faster with each thrust. “I know your cunt feels so good.” He licked the length of my pulse. “Saints, you smell so good it’s killing me.”

His teeth grazed my shoulder, and I whimpered, teetering so close to a mind numbing edge I couldn’t chase fast enough. Every inch of my neck ached, my skin breaking in shivers every time he dragged his fangs across its length. I wanted him to sink his teeth into me and draw more than blood. I wanted to be consumed whole by him until he could taste my agony and feverish desire in his throat.

I slid my hand from under his, sloppily grabbing his and guiding his middle fingers down my sex until they slipped—

My mouth parted in a moan and my insides pulsed around his thick fingers lodged inside me, slowly pushing them in until they sank past his knuckles. I let out a slow sigh when the stretch to accommodate the fullness sent a tremble down my legs.

“Willow,” he hissed in my ear. “Fuck.”

They were much bigger than mine, but I was so wet that the sting didn’t register until my hips started grinding against his hand. Holding onto his arm, I moved against his fingers, drawing myself closer and closer to that feverish edge—my head tipped back with a moan when he chased every movement of mine. The wet squelching sounds filled the carriage, and my come dripped down his fingers, but I didn’t stop. Nor did he, dragging them in and out of me in deep, measured thrusts.

“That's it. Ride them, honey. Ride my fingers, make yourself come,” he murmured over my mouth, dragging my lower lip between his teeth and leaving another quick kiss on my lips. “You have no idea how badly I want to sink my tongue in your wet cunt.” His nose nuzzled mine. “But it won’t be like this. It can’t be like this.”

I needed him to kiss me. Properly, Goddess damn it. I needed him to do all that he wanted to do to me.

A tearing registered only after cold air kissed my breasts. My poor dress was torn in half, almost down to my bellybutton. It was the most exposed I’d ever been in front of someone, but the way he was looking at me, it made me feel the most overdressed I’d ever been. He roughly palmed my flesh, sliding my nipple between his fingers. “Saints, look at you,” he groaned, shifting me back so he could lower his mouth and catch my nipple between his teeth. His fangs scraped against my breast as he pulled and sucked whimpering mewls out of me.

His other hand had wrapped around my throat, thumb skimming the length of my pulse back and forth while his thick fingers pumped into me faster, curling his fingers inside me with each thrust. The obscenely loud, wet thrusts were only drowned by the string of strangled sounds coming out of my throat as a fevered tremble overtook my body. My muscles relented to the blinding bolt of pleasure that bled through my veins, resounded down the length of my bones, and pooled at the bottom of my stomach as I cried out.

My head dropped against his shoulder as I tried to catch my breath while his fingers still lazily pumped in and out of me, chasing every shiver, every tremble echoing down my bones. “It’s over,” he murmured in my ear. Static raked down my vertebrae when he pulled his fingers out of me, still rubbing them down the length of my soaked sex as the last of my climax rolled through me. He left one last wet kiss on my jaw before his hand settled loosely against my thigh, still holding my lax body tightly against him. He tipped his head back against the carriage wall and closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

Sweat stuck to my skin like glue. My come was dripping down my thighs, soaking his trousers, and I was acutely aware of his hard length pressing against my buttocks.

“Is this how it always is for you?” I asked, not knowing what to do with myself. “When you feed, I mean?”

“No.”

“Never?”

His chest vibrated against my back with his answer, “Never.”