Page 26 of Feeding Beauty (The Lost Girls #5)

She adds a second finger and dips into the second knuckle now, a little faster, finding a rhythm that wasn’t there before.

My balls draw tight. I clench my jaw until it aches, every muscle in my body pulled taut like a bowstring. Every sound she makes feeds a beast I’ve caged for too long.

“You’re doing so good,” I whisper. “So fucking good for me, baby.”

Her whole body shudders.

Then she opens her eyes to meet mine. “Say that again,” she whispers.

“What? You mean call you baby?”

She nods, and her hand stutters, waiting.

“Baby,” I say again, slower this time. Letting it land. “Sweetheart. Mine. ”

A desperate sound between a moan and a warble escapes her when I call her by the little pet names. Her fingers plunge deeper, faster, but her untrained touch is moving her away from the edge of orgasm.

But she doesn’t need to worry. I’ll take her there. I can finish her from across the room with the lethal knowledge I have of this woman’s body.

“You don’t know what talking like that does to me,” she whispers.

“I do,” I growl. “I feel it in my fucking chest every time.”

A broken whine tumbles from her lips. She tries to buck into her own touch, but I can tell she’s losing the thread of feeling.

“Feel how wet you are? How silken and perfect? Now take those fingers and circle around your needy clit, baby .”

“This is harder by myself,” she confesses with a little frustrated laugh even as she does what I say.

“Rub up and down with light pressure, then back to circles. Small ones, tighter now.” I watch her hips twitch. “Right there. You feel that pulse?”

This time she moans, not from frustration but from satisfaction. Her hips chase the rhythm like she’s been aching for this all night.

My cock pulses hard. My stomach clenches like I’ve been punched. I still don’t touch myself—I won’t—but every inch of me is strung so tight I could snap.

“You know why that feels so fucking good?” I ask. “Because I know everything about you.”

Her fingers falter, her gaze meeting mine. I want to dive into those glassy, blown pupils.

“I know how your breath hitches when you’re close.

I know the way your thighs tremble when you want more, but don’t want to ask,” I say, my feet moving of their own accord.

“I know that you always sleep curled on your right side, but when you’ve had a good feed, you roll to your back and let your legs fall open just like this. ”

She makes a strangled sound—half-laugh, half-moan—like no one’s ever seen her this much.

Slowly, I stalk around the bed, nearing her from the side.

“I know when a John’s tongue isn’t going deep enough.

When they go too slow or go too fast. When they don’t hit the right angle.

I’ve watched them fumble through the motions while you lie back, silent, but your brow ticks just enough for me to know it’s not right. ”

A shiver ripples down her legs. Her breath catches.

I drop to a crouch next to her, my face close, my voice soft but rough. “I know the exact second your lips part from real pleasure, not performance. I know the spot that makes your hips jolt—lower, harder pressure, just there,” I gesture with my hand, and she obeys, biting her lip.

Her moan is all confirmation.

“I’ve memorized the sounds you make when it’s working. And the ones you try to swallow when it’s not.”

Aurora’s cheeks flush, her hand circling tighter.

“You think they ever saw you?” I whisper. “They fed you. Fucked you. But they didn’t see you.”

My hands tremble, caught between the pull of her and my own resistance. The urge to move closer is overwhelming, yet I force myself to stand, backing up two steps to put her out of reach.

“But I have, sweetheart. I’ve watched your body through every feed, memorized your tells, mapped out your need like it’s sacred scripture. And not once, not fucking once, have I ever been the one inside you.”

I clench my fists. Hard. My knuckles crack. I grind my teeth like it’ll keep my hands from reaching for her, from ruining everything with one greedy grab.

The fire in my skin buzzes, desperate. Starved.

Is this what she feels like all the time? This ache? This madness? The yank in my gut, the burn in my spine—it makes me believe I could take her without hurting her. Makes me believe the rules don’t matter anymore.

Her head falls back, fingers finding that spot to the left that makes her purr.

“I’ve never gotten to touch you. Never felt your skin under me. And still,” I growl, chest tight, voice wrecked, “I know exactly what you need.”

“And yet,” I say, barely breathing now, “I fantasize about giving you even more.”

Her smoky, crystalline eyes widen. She’s hungry to feed, but she’s also hungry for my words. I can see in every tense line of her face that she’s addicted to everything I’m saying.

“I dream about inflicting new sensations on you." Standing over her, I scan her body. A vicious possessive little smirk ticks up the side of my face. This beautiful image is mine and no one else’s. It sears into my memory like a brand.

“New rhythms. I fantasize about hunting down every spot they missed. Those little neglected places of pleasure, the ones no one’s taken the time to uncover. I’d press my mouth to them, suck, lick, and prod until you give up a sound you’ve never made before. A pitch so sharp it’d live in the walls.”

“T-Talon—” She cries out, the word breaking on her tongue, and her hand jerks faster, obedient to the picture I’m painting, desperate to feel it for real. She whimpers like I’ve touched her, like my words have slid between her legs.

“I’d worship you, baby,” I whisper. This time I can’t help myself.

I slip my hand under the waistband of my shorts, gripping my dick.

I almost choke at the sensation. “Slow. Thorough. I’d keep pushing until you forgot every stranger who ever touched you, forgot your own name, forgot everything but mine .

” My fist moves up and down in unhurried strokes, and her eyes hungrily track the motion.

I want this moment to last. I may never get another like it.

But what if this is all she needs?

Aurora’s right. We’ve been so busy feeding her regularly, we’ve never thought outside the box. Maybe the sexual power from within can sustain her?

Maybe this could be us now? Me directing her every move, her every touch, confessing every filthy thing I’ve harbored for years. Things I know she’d adore. Things she’d beg to hear more of.

“Keep going,” I tell her, as I grip the base of my dick. Fuck , my wings want to spread so bad . "Don’t stop now. You’re so close, sweetheart.”

Maybe I would get a pair of special gloves? Maybe I could lay the sheet over her and rub her sweet little cunt until it wets the fabric? I’d have to pull away often so I didn’t burn her, but maybe quick little touches?

Maybe we could make this work? Imperfectly perfect.

Aurora's body shakes, her thighs clenching around her hand. Her pink hair has darkened and matted against her forehead, dampened by the beads of sweat that trickle down from the intensity of her effort.

“If I could touch you,” I say, words shaking now, “I’d kiss my way up your thighs so slow, you’d forget how to breathe. I’d part your lips with my tongue and learn the exact rhythm that makes you fall apart.”

She cries out, bucking into her hand.

“I’d pin your hips with my hands, hold you down while I fucked you with my mouth, make you come so many times, your power would crack the fucking walls.”

“Please—” she gasps.

I’m burning alive with the need to claim every sound spilling from her lips.

“I’d kiss you while I slid inside you. Hold your jaw in one hand, your hip in the other. You’d be begging for that massive dick, wouldn’t you, baby?”

“Fuck,” she chokes. “Talon, yes—please?—”

My cock is aching, leaking, and I give into a little more speed as I devote my every word to her. What I would give for some of her wetness on my hand, around my dick.

“You’d ride my face like you were made for it,” I growl. “You’d come on my tongue and cry my name. And I’d keep going just to see how many times you could break for me.”

“Close.” Her lashes flutter. “ I'm so close. ”

I step forward again and crouch down, leaning in. I can smell the sweet, addictive scent of her slick heat.

“I’d spread you open with my fingers,” I whisper into her ear, still jerking off.

“Slow and deep until you’re dripping for it.

Then I’d slide in, inch by inch, and ruin you for anyone else.

I’d fuck you like I’ve waited a thousand years,” I murmur.

“Because I have. Every day I’ve held back, I was dreaming of this. Of you. ”

Her moan fractures into a sob. Her hand moves faster. Her thighs shake. The glow spreads, thickening the air around us. Her power spikes, bright and coiled and teetering.

“Say it, baby,” I whisper, knowing exactly how to push her over the edge. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she gasps. “Always—fuck—I’m?—”

She shatters.

Her cry rips through the room—raw, high, holy. Her hips jerk, legs locking around her hand as her body arches off the bed. Her pink glow crackles, lightning alive beneath her skin.

Her orgasm hits in a violent tide, her climax clawing up the air until it grips me by the throat. My knees nearly buckle. My lungs seize. My cock throbs with brutal, aching force before spilling in hot, bright spurts in my shorts. I gasp and groan as the pressure explodes from me in a geyser.

My soul claws toward her on instinct, mad with the need to reach her, mark her, fuck her until the fire in my chest finds a home.

She chants my name while her body is a pulsing, living star.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

But then, her body jerks once. Twice. Then stills, and I know.

Her magic doesn’t crest.

It detonates .

Her body convulses, but not in pleasure.

The waves of her power that have always emanated outward suddenly reverse course, hammering into her body with a dark purple aura. Her veins pulse with light. Her back bows, every muscle straining as if pain itself is wringing her spine.

“Aurora,” I call, removing my hand from myself as panic takes place over release. She doesn’t hear me. She’s feeding on her own life force.

“Stay with me, Aura,” I demand. “ Breathe. ”

But she doesn’t respond. Her eyes roll back.

Shit. Shit. Fuck.

“Aurora,” I shout again, louder this time, desperate .

Her lips part in a silent scream. Her glow turns violent. Wild. Her body jolts, violent and raw, every movement a silent rupture.

My chest crumples under the impact, air gone in a blink.

I don’t think—I move.

Surging forward, I scoop her up, sheets and all, then sprint for the shower. Terror rises in my lungs, even as I step in the tub. Still holding her in the bunched-up covers, I flip on the cold water like she’s been doing recently.

She lets out a startled gasp when the shower blast hits her in the face. I can see the waves slowing their reverse course, but her body is still feeding on itself.

My tentative idea, the one I’m not sure is a good idea is no longer an option.

Aurora needs to feed, and it has to be tonight.