Page 16 of A Love So Deadly (Kissed by Darkness #1)
She frowns. “No. I want to know where my friend is.”
Dead. She’s more than likely dead. “I don’t know,” I say. “But I’m done talking about it now, just like I’m done talking about Benicio or fucking Vincent.” I search her face. The throb in the air that hikes up the tension is getting too much to ignore. “Aren’t you tired of being alone, Monty?”
“Who said I’m alone?” Instead of coming to me, she backs away. I’ve dropped all my tricks. There’s just us. And the need that tries to pull us together.
I slide the rope over my hands. “Your face. You’re lonely.”
“And you’re the answer?”
“I’m the distraction. Take off your dress.”
She walks up to me, each step deliberate until she’s right in front of me. Her brows pinch in the middle as she studies my face. “What are you?”
“What do you think?”
Reaching behind herself, she undoes the clasp to her dress and then pushes the straps from her shoulders. The dress pools like the midnight sky around her ankles, and she is perfection. Soft, round, with curves I could sink my teeth into.
She’s not wearing a bra, either, and her nipples are dusty pink and pale, and I can see the lips of her cunt through the thin white lace of her panties.
My body jerks.
“Maybe I don’t want to think.”
“That’s wise of you, Monty.” I motion for her to turn, and I come up behind her, sliding a hand over her flesh, down over her breasts to her panties where I slip right in, through her wet flesh.
I part her lips and push into the furnace I need within.
She’s tight, wet, and alive, and I finger her softly.
But it’s hard to remain gentle with her for long, so I get a little rougher, pushing another finger in. It’s electric, touching her. If anything could make my heart come back to life and beat like it was human, it’d be her.
She sighs, head back, and I lean in and lick her throat, suckling just enough to make her vibrate and moan.
“Panties off,” I say, pulling out to leave her panting, flushed rosy, and delicious. I want her on the verge of cascading pleasure.“Now.”
She does that, leaving her heels on, and without a word I move about her.
She’s stunning. Her cunt a work of art, tits perfection.
I want to throw out my kink needs and just fuck her senseless.
But something in her stillness whispers she wants this, too.
Instinctively. Like I’ve tapped into her center.
So I move, studying her, centering myself. I won’t touch, not even with the rope, until I’ve learned the slopes and valleys of her body.
Until I’ve learned the places where her blood likes to hammer the hardest…her clit and pussy lips, her wrists, her throat. It creates the sweetest song.
Now I touch. Not with my hands but with the rope. I trail her flesh with the edge of the rope, reading her movements more closely when the rope teases her most sensitive places.
I continue to circle her, taking my time to wrap her up, knotting the rope against her skin in multiple places and trailing my fingers over her as I go. I let her feel me pressed against her to make sure she knows, without words, that I expect her to obey.
She does. She lets me guide her, like living art. Her breath catches and releases, her body quivering. I position her, reposition, finding the right spot, letting her gain the pleasure of the stretch and the wait.
Then, sliding in behind her, I continue to bind her, wrapping the rope between her breasts and up, forming the harness. Her arms are pinned at her side and her hands are bound behind her, which allows me full access to her throat.
Hmm… My hunger grows. The beast within me is getting more and more difficult to hold back. I want to devour her. My entire being seems to vibrate with that need.
My lips skim down along her throat, over the rapid pump of her blood, the beat of her pulse. She whimpers.
The soft sound reminds me that I’m too close; it’s too tempting, so I step back.
Without a word, I study the work I’ve done.
The breast harness is perfection. The ropes constrict at the right pressure to make blood flow and her tits swell.
Her nipples are extended, and I flick one to make her moan.
They’re right at the point where I need them, where pain and pleasure blur into one.
I reach for another red rope, another new one, and I work it down through the breast harness to her waist and around her hips, upper thighs, until I have one tied all the way down to her left foot.
Tugging at it, I test one of the ropes. “Trust me?”
“Not at all, Lucy.”
“Is this something you want?”
“Yes…” Soft hiss of her breath is addicting, and I begin to stroke over her with my fingers, parting her lower lips and playing with her clit, her asshole, then the sensitive skin that’s still unbound on her inner thighs.
My nails trail up over her quivering belly, up over the ropes to worship her breasts, while my mouth dips down to take their place. Because I can’t quite keep them at bay, my fangs scrape over her nipples, enough to make her cry out and convulse.
Finally, after testing the ropes again, I thread the ends through the pulleys and hoist her in the air. She cries out.
Working quickly, I tie her one leg so that she’s left open, spread wide, with her pussy bared to me. My cock is so hard, it’s painful, and my pants are suddenly too tight.
I’m going to have so much fun ruining her.
I spin her until she faces me. She’s gasping, half lost in the drug of anticipation and lust when she says, “What…What are…”
Then she sees my eyes and the fangs I’m unable to conceal anymore.
“What am I?” I finish for her and smile. “As I asked you before, Ms. Montague. What do you think?”