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Dévorée
CORA
“That’s a hefty declaration for someone who hasn’t gone down on a woman in nearly a decade.”
He caught the back of my knees and spread me open. Wider. Wider. Until my back was flat on the bed and he was towering over me. When I was completely bare for him, he spit on my clit. I gripped the bedsheets, trying not to let him see how good it felt.
He leaned down and licked me with the cool flat of his tongue. “So good,” he whispered over me. “So, so good.” Then he did it again. “The sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Another lick. Then his tongue trilled against my most sensitive spot over and over until my eyes rolled back and my legs began to shake. He abruptly stopped.
I opened my eyes and found him licking his lips.
“I haven’t come yet,” I told him. “And I’m not going to fake it.”
He grinned and spit on me again. I jolted as the cool liquid dribbled down my center. I could hardly hold still.
“Oh, Cora, you can’t hide from me. I can hear your blood rushing in, turning your sweet softness into a tight little bud.”
He let go of my legs long enough to undo the buttons on his trousers and pulled himself free. When he did, my jaw dropped. Silver piercings sat at the top and bottom.
“It’s called a—”
“I know what it’s called.”
“Do you know how it feels?”
Words failed me. I couldn’t say I’d ever been with a man fearless enough to pierce himself once. Let alone twice.
“How about I give you a little taste,” he said, taking my legs and wrapping them around his hips. “And you tell me how you like it.”
“Tattoos? Piercings?” I asked. This wasn’t the charmingly awkward man who told me he was prepared to be unconscionable. “Who are you?”
“I’m the man who’s about to make you come all over his dick.”
I had to hold in a gasp as he ran himself over me and the smooth metal made contact with my clit.
“Fuck,” I groaned, turning my face into the covers.
“No, Cora. Eyes right here. You watch me play with it. I want to see the look in your eyes.”
Watching a man work wasn’t something I normally did. Normally I was imagining he was someone else, or I was somewhere else. But Yves wasn’t a sweaty drunk. He was a vampire prince. Hard-bodied and handsome. Even with his clothes on.
I let go of any preconceived notion of how I expected this to go, and let him set a steady pace. Rubbing himself over me. Back and forth. Never threatening to slip inside. Always keeping it right where I wanted him. The thick head of his cock and those little metal studs slowly undoing me. Pulse by steady pulse.
The longer he worked, the harder he became. The more his face twisted up. His lip curling. I was close, but so was he.
Leaning forward, Yves braced his hands on the mattress beside my face. One knee propped up on the bed. Hitting that same spot over and over again. Never faltering. I was so close I could taste it. The twisting, aching sensation that told me I was about to lose control. I just needed a little more friction.
I rose up on my elbows, shifting the pressure just enough that I saw stars behind my eyes and Yves made a strangled sound. “That’s it. So good.”
“Too good,” I choked out.
“Cora, I’m going to come, just like this,” Yves told me. “I’m going to come all over your swollen little clit. And when I do, you’re going to come with me.”
Back. Forth. Back. Forth.
I held the sheets, praying to Damien for the delicious torture to end.
