“We do this, you’re mine,” I swore to her in a rough voice torn from my gut. The words pained me as they erupted, but I wanted the pain because with Bea, I knew it would only bring pleasure.
“Yours,” she swore, head tipped back so I could bite my way down her neck. “I already was.”
“No,” I disagreed as my mouth finally found a peaked nipple and my teeth gave in to the ache to bite down on it. She moaned loudly, head hitting the wall with a dull thud as she arched into my mouth. “If I make you mine, you stay mine until death comes for us. You’re mine in the night and the shadows where I’m fucking king. You’re mine in the light with your family and friends, standing beside Death as his queen. If I’m a killer, you’re a killer. Where I end, you fucking begin.”
“Yin and yang,” she rasped as I switched to the other breast, biting and sucking hard around the pale swell until it bloomed pink as an unfurled rose. “Persephone and Hades,” she said, voice dropping into low, velvet intimacy as she clutched my hair so I looked up at her through her breasts. “Bea and Priest.”
“I’ll ruin you,” I promised baldly, excitement in my balls, in my chest, a percussion beat like ceremonial drums.
“So ruin me,” she agreed. “Pull my hair, bite my neck, leave me bruised and ruined by your love until every inch of my body is singing of you.”
I pulled back to arch an eyebrow at her, impressed by her dirty audacity. Her blush spilled like wine from her cheeks to her chest, but she maintained eye contact despite her embarrassment.
“Okay,” I drawled. “My shadow wants to be ruined, I’ll ruin you.”
She sucked in a little breath when I pulled my switchblade out and flicked it open, but she held still, breath stuck in her lungs, as I dragged it from her neck down her breastbone and quivering belly to the apex of her thighs. I dropped to my knees, my nose level with her pussy so I could lean forward and drag it through the top of her curls.
“Smell like heaven,” I grunted as I dragged that sweet musk into my lungs and let it make me light-headed with raging lust. I dragged the blade lightly down the edge of her bush to that delicate skin on the inside of her thigh and groin. “One day, gonna shave you here so you’re stripped and so sensitive. Every breath, every pass of my steel and my cock will make you shudder and beg for more.”
She shuddered then, almost violently as I pressed the knife a little harder into the soft swell of her inner thigh, hard enough to draw a thin, red line. I followed it with my tongue to soothe the ache, then did the same on the other side.
She tasted like a peach, the soft fuzz, the sweet sticky juice running out to leak down her thighs right onto my waiting tongue. The explosion of flavour made me growl.
“You like the pain, don’t you?” I asked as I carved a small line into the skin above her curls, blood beading lightly like jewels over the wound. She panted so loudly it echoed over the driving rain hitting the side of the house, the patter of it falling through the still open window onto the wood floors. “You like the idea of being a bad girl for me.”
“Oh God,” she stuttered as I finished carving my name into her skin. She was barely bleeding, the wound wasn’t deep, but I soothed it with my tongue, loving the tang of her blood, needing more of it in my mouth.
Wanting it on my cock as I took her for the first time.
“You got the devil between your thighs, Bea,” I informed her as I pinned her groin to the wall with my splayed hand, the knife pressed between us, and opened her silken folds with the other. “You worship anyone, it’s gonna be me.”
I dipped my head to run my tongue up the center of her cunt and groaned into her sweet, honeyed flesh. I ate her like a glutton, sucking hard at her clit again and again until it swelled and throbbed angrily beneath my tongue, lapping up the juice that flowed peach-sweet and sticky from her center.
Her hands went to my hair, stroking it back from my face, curling over my ears. It distracted me, wounded me in a way I wasn’t ready for and didn’t like at all. I ripped my mouth from her succulent cunt and glared up at her.
“No touching,” I ordered.
It was too much, nails on a chalkboard.
“What?” she panted, her lower lip swollen and dark as a plum, bruised by the way she bit it to keep quiet.