Page 62 of Will It Hurt?

Aisla

Fucking cheesy line, but my nerves didn’t seem to care. They lit up like they’d been set on fire from the tips of my fingers to the bottom of my soles. Every part of me wanted to know her touch, her tongue.

I needed to remind myself that this wasn’t the safe space of a dream sequence. This was real life with a list of complications longer than my forearm.

But in the cover of darkness, it was just Jinn and me. There were no witnesses.

Her skin was luminescent—pale and still. Only the teasing fire in her gaze betrayed a consciousness beneath.

“Breathe, little wytch,” she coaxed, and I realized just how tight my chest had become with a captured inhale. “Or don’t. I’d love to watch you fall apart on your last breath.”

The tip of her fang grazed my temple, sharp and suggestive. No pain followed, and I knew she hadn’t cut into my skin, but the imprint of her teeth brought a quiver to my belly.

An odd sense of déjà vu descended over me—I had no doubt that I was losing control of the situation, just like I had last night.

What was it about this woman that commanded something in me?

Made me needy and pathetic like one of those handmaids that wanted nothing more than to serve the vamp they pledged to ?

No, I couldn’t. This was wrong. I’d been raised to be cautious of her kind and their trickery.

How could I be sure that I wasn’t under some sort of compulsion?

Maybe she was making me behave this way.

Maybe she was setting my blood on fire because she wanted me under her thumb.

After all, she could never have Belle back without my help.

Right. Enough of this nonsense.

“I’m going back inside.”

Shit. Was that a statement or a question?

“Are you now?”

Panic sliced through me as I watched shadows slither from beneath her shoulder blades like ink curling through the night sky. A black tendril peeled away and twitched in the breeze. Another followed. Then another. Half a dozen ink-drenched appendages writhed around her, caressing the air.

They spat and hissed as they moved, each one like a silky muscle with their own free will. They twined around me, pulling my wrists from her vest and flinging them out wide.

The backs of my hands collided with the grimy sandstone, pinned down tight as though they’d been tied there with a rope.

Oh shit.

They were strong, too strong.

“What the fu— ” I tugged on the bindings and found them wound tight like malleable steel.

She stepped away, removing the press of her weight against my chest. Curse the fucking moon, why did it feel like it was wrong to breathe without her weight against me?

I wanted to feel the pressure of her chest again, crushing me, bruising me.

I wanted her to pin me to the balcony instead of her fucking shadows.

But I also wanted to leave.

Make it make sense !

Two feet away, her gaze moved over my thrashing form.

“Looks like you’re trapped, little wytch.”

“I didn’t agree to this,” I hissed, her shadows feeling like chilly iron manacles around my wrists. “I didn’t ask to be restrained—”

“You didn’t,” she agreed. “But tell me this—does it make you wet?”

My gulp of defiance echoed in the small balcony.

“No.”

Her laughter brought forth a hint of fang.

“You’re a terrible liar. I can smell you.”

I stared, flushed, as her coat fell to the stones in a whisper of fabric.

Her fingers moved to the crisp white shirt that sat under her vest, unbuttoning the impossibly small clasps, one by one, until her neck and throat were bare.

When she pulled the first button of her vest apart, the outline of her breasts came into view—just a tiny hint.

Please.

I didn’t dare say the word out loud. It was too pathetic, too painful. I couldn’t have cared less about the swathes of skin I’d witnessed on stage just minutes before. But here, two feet in front of me, I would offer my soul for a view of Jinn’s breasts.

And she knew it.

As her fingers traced the shadowy valley, trailing up to her collarbones and back down again, a smirk curled the corners of her lips.

Bitch.

She was fucking with my head. Trying to blur reality and the fragments of my dreams by mimicking her exact movements from my CBD-infused romp.

“You’re awfully turned on for someone who doesn’t want this.”

A challenge reverberated in her voice—one I knew I would lose. I pushed my thighs together, trying to quell the quick dampening of my underwear.

“Is this how you get off?” I asked, refusing to give in. “By restraining women so they can’t get away from you?”

Mirth flashed in her gaze. “Contrary to what you believe, I rarely have trouble finding a willing bedmate.”

My belly tightened sharply. “Then go find them. Leave me alone.”

Fire raced along my veins when she fell to her knees before me. “Not without a taste, little wytch.”

I’m not giving in. Not giving in. Not—

Desire burned in her gaze as intensely as it had the night before, but this was a thousand times better. Because this was real. She was here, flashing only a sliver of skin as she knelt in front of me, licking her generous lips as though awaiting a feast.

And, shit. It had been a long while since anyone looked at me that way, as though they were willing to move mountains just to taste my pussy. The feeling got to my head quicker than sip of bubbly, and I tried to sway forward.

The shadows held tight.

I had no choice. There was nothing I could do to fight this. And a large part of me didn’t want to fight this.

Her fingers slipped between the waistband of my flares and… Paused.

I glanced down. Gone was the teasing. Gone was the note of laughter at my expense.

“Little wytch,” she said, gazing up at me, her eyes dark like twin pools of ink. “Tell me no and I will leave you alone.”

She wet her lips. Every muscle in my body grew taut as I waited for her next words .

“But say yes and I will not stop until you come on my tongue.”

Fuck.

Fuuuuuck.

Something about the glimmer in her eyes drove home that she wasn’t messing around. She wanted my pleasure, and she would take it from me with her lips and tongue.

All I had to do was say yes.

I lowered my head, the nod almost imperceptible.

Yes.

Her fingers were impatient as she tugged my waistband down. I didn’t feel the cold—I’d forgotten where we were, who we were, dissolving into her bubble without thought.

My lungs filled with her scent—the one she’d used to torture me all night. It lingered like frost around us, unsettling, alluring. Amber and midnight flooded my nose, dark and deep in a way that would eternally haunt my waking hours.

When her fingers traced the simple black underwear I wore beneath, I trembled into her hold.

“You’re soaked.” The backs of her knuckles traced the seams along my thighs. “I’m not surprised. You’ve been wet for me all night.”

I scoffed despite the tightness in my belly.

“Are all vampyres this cocky?” I shot back, refusing to shiver under her touch like a little lamb without giving something back in return. “Or are you a terrible example of your kind?”

She dragged a deep breath as though savoring the taste of me in the air. When she smiled that cruel, teasing smile, my heart squeezed tight.

“I’m not arrogant, little wytch,” she purred. “I’m just aware of how much you need my tongue in your pussy.”

I tried to close my mouth around words— any words—but they vanished as she spoke. Her fingers dipped between the slight straps of my underwear and pulled them down, gently, slowly, as though savoring each inch of skin that was revealed.

Heat burned a line over my cheeks as I caught my own wetness glistening along the tips of my curls.

“Pretty.” The compliment slid through me like a brush of velvet. “But then, I already knew you’d be.”

The startling realization that future me was going to touch myself furiously to the memory of her at my feet set my belly on fire.

She gathered my wetness on the tip of her index finger and tested it with her thumb. Held down, immobile, I watched her slide the finger between her fangs, swirling her tongue around it as she tasted the very essence of me.

“The only thing sweeter is your blood,” she said quietly, almost too soft to hear.

But I caught the words with trepidation.

“No blood,” I stated, wondering if she would respect my boundaries. Would a hundred and fifty year-old vamp know what boundaries were?

“That’s a pity.” But her fangs remained pressed against her bottom lip. “What else do you have to offer?”

With my jeans clinging to my ankles, I spread my thighs as wide as they would go. The temperature had dropped below zero, but under the heat of her gaze, I barely felt the pinch of the cold.

With a flick of her wrist, my jeans landed in a pile beside us. She leaned forward and nudged my trembling thigh onto her shoulder.

Oh, fuck .

I’d never seen anyone look more beautiful than Jinn kneeling on the ground with my dark thigh draped across her pale cheek, her mouth just inches away from my pussy.

I was wide open, exposed, my clit pulsing hard in the open air.

I want this.

I need this.

I fucking deserve to be eaten out by a hot vamp.

The smirk on Jinn’s face told me that I’d broadcasted the last thought a little too loudly, but I was straddling the line between caring and throwing caution to the wind.

The first touch of her tongue was electric. I surged into the barely-there contact, demanding more.

I’d never been able to keep my mouth shut in bed—or the parapet, as it were. It was an impossible feat to keep my moans soft and breathy and sexy and demure. Instead, a loud whimper echoed around us, rising from the depths of my belly and curling into the night air.

“That’s it, little wytch.” Her tongue swept over my curls, gathering every drop of moisture that was caught on the edges. “Let me taste what you teased me with last night.”