Page 49 of Nocturn

“Defiling you will be my great pleasure.” With those words, he struck, sinking his fangs into the spot he had caressed.

I gasped, my hips hiking up sharply, my lips remaining parted. The sharp sting of the punctures was soothed by him sucking at the wound. Another ripple tore through my channel, clenching and grasping for something I did not fully understand.

My hips refused to cease moving. Moans and sounds left my lips in a way I had never heard, at an embarrassing frequency. My arms had fallen to my sides, no longer veiling my rising and falling breasts.

He watched the swells and pulled another drag from where he bit me. Lord Draven lifted his head, crimson painting his perfect lips. His smile was more of a baring of teeth, but it did not make me want to run. It made me want more.

He rose over me, holding my gaze, his large hands engulfing my thighs, squeezing, sliding higher. The colors in his irises pulsed where the met.

“Watch me, mortal,” he ordered huskily.

My body stretched out on the bed, thighs spread, him between them, hovering over my aching sex. Those long fingers traveled closer to where I ached. There was an embarrassing amount of dampness between my legs, and my breasts bounced with every exhale in a lewd manner.

He shoved a finger inside my channel, all the way to the knuckle.

I stopped breathing, my body tensing. His palm turned upward as his finger slid inside me. Slowly, he curled it.

I detonated, screaming, my body no longer my own as I fell onto the fur bedding, my spine arching.

Such bliss seemed impossible. Part of my mind had become useless and needy.

My mouth kept moving, but I could not hear what spilled out. I had never experienced anything as intense as this. I was unsure how long I writhed, pushing down to feel the hard bone of his knuckle. As much as I moved, he did not; he remained painfully still.

It took far too long to regain my faculties. How utterly intoxicating. I panted, lifting my head.

He continued to watch me, his eyelids lowered, thick, sooty eyelashes half veiling his colored eyes.

“Lord Draven,” I admonished. He ignored my attempts at yanking my knees away to close my legs, and he kept them wide.

He pushed my knees higher, spreading me, then lowered his head. In a panic, I pushed up and slid my hands into his hair, bunching it. He looked up at me, an eyebrow twitching.

“I-I do not think this is proper,” I muttered, panicked.

“None of what I will do to your body is proper, mortal.”

Flutters drove out the last of my reservations.

He sank down and, holding my gaze, licked my dripping sex. I sucked in a breath, clenching my bottom.

All that did was enhance my need.

“Oh, my.”

This certainly is not proper.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Craving

He lowered again, his fangs poking out past his top lip. Seeing the tips of them like that caused a swirling in my chest that felt too close to affection. A feeling like the one I might have at the sight of something endearing. Not a brutish Warlord. The forbidden thoughts faded with the glide of his tongue running up my seeping sex.

I moaned, my chest heaving, nipples hard and pebbled. That pinnacle hovered near, teasing my senses, chasing away the flare of guilt from how much I enjoyed what he did to me.

His teeth grazed against my sensitive wetness, triggering an orgasm that stiffened the line of my body. I arched, panting and whimpering, not knowing what to do with my hands. I grasped the fur beneath me, but Lord Draven did not cease.

He feasted on my sex like a man starved, his fingernails digging into my sensitive flesh as he kept my thighs parted. His tongue plunged into my throbbing core. Pleasure unlike anything I could have imagined kept hold of me.

How utterly delicious.