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“I know where your room is,” he mumbles against my skin.
“Stalker,” I whisper.
“Probably.”
He sets me on the edge of my bed, dropping to his knees between my legs. I lean back, propping up on my elbows to watch what he’ll do next. He licks his lips as tucks his fingers into the waist of my silk shorts, pulling them down my thighs like he’s unwrapping a gift.
I motion him closer, but he only smirks at me, his arrogance back with a vengeance, as if this is his element. He caresses his hands up the outside of my thighs, then grips beneath my ass to part my legs.
There’s a moment where he freezes, just stares at my pussy like he’s mesmerized. I almost say that out loud, but he reaches behind his back and yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor.
Ezra skims his lips from my knee to my inner thigh before he bites me again. I moan at the pain, feeling my arousal coat my skin.
I hadn’t previously enjoyed teeth in the bedroom… But, yeah. With him, I really fucking do. It’s less about causing pain and more to do with him testing my limits, what I like versus what I don’t.
He doesn’t give me any more time to assess this new discovery, though.
His tongue is satin smooth against my clit, while his strokes are a firm juxtaposition. I run my hand over his short hair, wishing it was just a little longer, so I’d have something to tug on.
I end up twisting my other hand into my quilt as pleasure coils within me. He presses his fingers against my entrance, applying pressure but refusing to fill me, to give me something to clench around.
My orgasm takes me by surprise, arching my back off the bed. I try to not run from him, but he doesn’t stop his oral assault. I shove at his forehead, pushing him away when I become too sensitive.
Ezra chuckles as he kisses up my stomach, nipping along the way.
“Harder.”
He bites into the globe of my breast, making me hiss from the bruising pain through my thin camisole. I lean up to rip it off, exposing the rest of my skin for his teeth to batter.
Ezra stands to remove his pants, then frowns. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Are you clean?”
“Yeah. I tested a couple we—”
“I’m on birth control. But there are condoms if the drawer if you’d rather—”
“Nope,” he interrupts, crawling over me. “I’d rather not.”
Ezra lines up, pushing inside me with slow and even strokes. There’s a confidence in his movements, like he’s already so in tune with my reactions that he knows exactly how to build me up.
I can’t argue with that point either. I’m ready to implode before he’s even found his rhythm.
“Fuck. You feel so good.”
I gasp as he glides over that delicious spot inside me. He grins down at me as he does it again, and he groans when I scratch at the tops of his shoulders.
This sweet torture goes on for minutes or hours, though I lose all my senses while he keeps me on edge. He stills every time I get too close to my orgasm until I’m a screaming, violent mess.
I claw at his back, feeling his slick skin split under my nails. Is it sweat or blood? I don’t even care. I just want to come.
Ezra rumbles praise, though the sounds start deep within his chest. They tell me exactly how much he’s enjoying the burn of his fresh wounds. I take the chance to turn the tables on him, pushing him too close to the precipice to stop himself.
“Bite me,” I demand breathlessly.
“Bleed me,” he murmurs in return.
I scrape my nails over his back, digging deeper than before. He bites between my neck and shoulder so hard I nearly wince. The pain shoves me into an orgasm so strong white stars dot my vision.
