Page 71 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

“Drown my cock,” I groan. “Come for me, baby.”

Lyra quakes as she comes, trembling and falling over the cliff. Her body spills over my shaft, soaking me. She stiffens around me, refusing to let me pull out of her tight little body. I have no choice but to spill inside of her.

My cock twitches, a jagged groan ripping from my chest, and empties ropes and ropes of my come deep inside of her. I keep thrusting inside her, pushing my seed as far as it will go, pouring so much that I can feel it leak out of her cunt, seeping around me.

Everything feels foggy, a haze of release washing over me as my forehead drops to her shoulder. My legs shake as I pull out of her, feeling her rotate beneath me so that she can catch my drooping body.

Her face buries against the crook of my neck, nuzzling into me. I hum as her hot breath brushes against my damp skin. Our chests are pressed together, both of our breathing trying to level out.

“Your heart is racing,”she whispers, placing a hand over my chest as if to steady the thrumming in my chest.

I laugh, pieces of my damp hair falling in front of my face.

“No one told you? I don’t have one.”

She smiles, bright and blinding. All Lyra and all mine.

Her lips kiss the hickeys on my neck, and she preens beneath me, so proud of her claim on me, admiring the dried bloody hearts still staining my skin.

My chest aches uncomfortably when she speaks again.

“You can take mine.”

FATE

EIGHTEEN

Unknown

He loves her.

I saw it in his eyes tonight when he thought no one was watching them.

I can’t blame my sweet Lyra. It’s not her fault that she is being deceived by him. I’ve waited too long, and now she believes Thatcher is her one true love.

She doesn’t understand. She just doesn’t see it yet.

But she will.

Soon, she will see how we were always meant to be together. That there isn’t a more perfect match. Thatcher was merely my placeholder until the stars aligned for us.

When she finally understands, she will be apologetic. She will feel so very guilty for making me watch the two of them together. Lyra will make up for every second she was in his arms and not mine.

Because she will see that we were made for one another.

There is no one better for her than me.

History will not repeat itself this time. I will not lose her to another Pierson.

Not this time. They do not win this time.

This time, I get the girl.

THE MOURNIGN OF A ROSE

NINETEEN

Thatcher