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Lan shrugs and returns to the woman, striking her harder, the end landing right between her folds with a wet, harsh crack. She screams, and he laughs before moving closer, his hands going to his belt.
People watch him with fascination, lust, and fear as he takes her. He’s a favorite here, because his tastes run only to the extreme. When Lush first opened, I forced a vow from him. At Lush, he will never kill his plaything, whether it be through violence or draining their blood.
Only the most brave, or most high on Rapture, are willing to step into his play area.
A female wolf shifter steps up to me, a tray in her hands as she keeps her head tilted down subserviently. I take the tumbler, filled with a thick liquid that is black in the shadows. The female disappears as quickly as she appeared, and I bring the glass to my nose and inhale. I scrunch my nose in distaste. The blood is clean and free from any trace of past feedings. It should be satisfying, yet I can’t drink it.
It’s nother.
My growl causes those closest to me to tense, to warily look over their shoulders, but it’s not them I’m angry at. My fury is directed at Eloise Morse, who by now might be asleep in my own bed. I’d thought to torment her by forcing her to stay in my room, but I didn’t expect my own torment.
I want to kick down the door and rip the bedsheets from her supple body. My gaze blurs as I imagine what I would do, and my shaft fills, my arousal at dinner returning vehemently. My ears are filled with the sounds of pleasure before me as I lose myself to my fantasy.
Eloise would be sprawled out in her faded shirt and worn-out shorts instead of the silk and lace I want to wrap her in. Her dark hair would be splayed out around her, half of it escaping the tie she’d used. She’d glare up at me, demanding to know what I thought I was doing.
Shifting, I release the button on my fly before stroking myself over the fabric. Closing my eyes, I focus on the Eloise of my thoughts.
I crawl onto the bed and over her, trapping her under me as she starts to breathe faster, pulled in by the rapid beating of her heart. Then I rip the clothing from her and feast my eyes on her soft, plump skin. I want to punish her for making me this way, for making me need her more than I’ve ever needed anything.
Idly, I release my turgid member, gripping it as I slowly stroke, slouching back into the leather armchair.
Returning to my thoughts, I move off the bed once more and drag her with me until she’s on her knees at my feet with defiance in her eyes. I’d free my cock and push it against her lips, ordering her to take me in her sweet mouth. My beautiful lioness can’t hide how much this is turning her on, how she craves my punishment as much as I want to give it. Her lips will part and I’ll sink my cock in, forcing it past her gag reflex and into her throat until her face is pressed into my body.
I’ll fill her with my scent as she’s filled me with hers.
Blindly, I release myself for long enough to dip my hands in the warm blood beside me, before slicking it over myself. I tell myself it’s Eloise’s blood that is easing the slide of my hand as I stroke.
Eloise’s eyes will stay open as I make her watch me punish her throat. I’ll hold her head in place as I make her take me deep over and over again until tears run down her cheeks. I’ll keep going, because I can smell how badly she wants me between her legs. But this isn’t for her pleasure. It’s her punishment for making me this way.
I stroke myself faster, the metallic scent of blood blending in with the rest of Lush’s scents. I focus on the lavender and apricot which clings to my jacket and pants from where she sat earlier. The faintest scent of her arousal where she ground down against me.
In my thoughts, I pound into her and she moans as I spill down her throat, pulling her close enough to block off her airway.
My balls tighten, then with a groan I spill over my hand as I stroke hard, wishing it was her throat.
Breathing hard, I return to the present. Those here before me continue their own entertainment, and if anyone watched me, they didn’t do so now.
Dammit, I was so wrapped up in Eloise that anyone could have attacked me and I would have been taken by surprise. Scowling once more at the infuriating woman in my bed, I reach below the chair for the stash of cloths there to quickly and angrily clean myself.
The worst part is there is no relief in the tension coiling around my spine. If anything, it’s grown worse now that I’ve allowed myself to imagine what it could be like.
Putting myself away, I stand and straighten my clothing. I leave, taking the hidden door near my seat to head out my personal entry.
Anger fuels me as I race through the Barrows. Intent on fulfilling those thoughts that had me spilling into my hand hardens my spine as I don’t bother climbing into my window. When I arrive, my guards have returned. I can sense Ashe and Malachi in their respective rooms on the second floor as I stalk through the dark house with silent footsteps.
Like the predator I am, I ease the door open to my bedroom, silent and smooth enough to not disrupt the air within.
I hit a wall, unable to move past the entrance as my eyes land on the sleeping woman of my torment. She’s kept the curtains open and moonlight casts a silver beam across the bed, revealing the silvery skin uncovered by her tank top as she slumbers. Lavender and apricot assault me once more, but the other scent is what transfixes me.
I close the door behind me, never taking my eyes off of her. The anger disappears, washed away by her presence in my home. In my bed. Shaking my head with a hard jerk, as if trying to dislodge her from my senses, I retreat to the wardrobe in the bathroom. The air is still humid, though the moisture from her shower has disappeared from the mirror. With clinical focus, I change out of the clothes that reek of Lush and my own pleasure and another human’s blood in favor of the gray linen pants I prefer when I choose to actually sleep.
Drawn back to Eloise, I see she’s shifted onto her side and now faces away from me. The faded scent of arousal is stronger now and I climb onto the bed, over her, drawn to the source of the smell. Her hand lays across the pillow in front of her face. Lowering my head, my attention on her every move, I’m like a damn wild animal as I breathe in the scent of her hand, my cock stirring and blood heating at its implication.
Eloise may have told me no at dinner, but like myself, she was driven to fill her desire. In my bed.
I steal a taste of her, darting my tongue to the tip of her finger, not allowing myself more than that.
Male satisfaction fills my chest and rather than give in to my urge to wake her by sucking her fingers clean of her taste, I move to the other side and slide under the blankets too.
