Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Even without actual physical stimulation, pleasure builds with each swallow she takes of my blood. My hips shift, seeking friction. Touch me, touch me, touch me. I grab her arm banded around my waist, desperate to guide her hand between my thighs, but she’s so incredibly strong that I can’t move her. Even that denial heightens my desire.
My orgasm draws closer and closer. All the talk of involuntary physical reaction feels laughable now. It’s a wonder Lizzie doesn’t have a crowd of admirers chasing after her, offering their throats and thighs. How can they not when it feels so good?
There’s no space to feel embarrassed. Only to feel. My body flushes hot, blood seeming to gather in my breasts and pussy. To center around my clit. She’s not even touching me. That thought circles again and again, and each pull of her mouth shoves me toward a world-ending orgasm. All with her holding me in an almost friendly manner. Later, maybe I’ll die of embarrassment, but right now I can’t do anything but accept that I’m about to orgasm in the vampire’s arms. I have a faint thought to try to fight it, but by the time I even consider it, it’s too late. My pleasure crests in an undeniable wave that rolls over me, drawing a cry from my lips.
I find myself reaching back, my fingers in her hair, holding her mouth to my skin, even as she gentles the bite and drags her tongue over the puncture wounds. I’m shaking and I can’t seem to stop, the aftermath of the orgasm almost as intense as the orgasm itself.
I had intended to suffer through these bites as a necessity. She’s my partner in this endeavor, which means she needs to be fed. But as she eases back and straightens my shirt with an efficiency that’s almost clinical, I have to clamp my jaw shut to prevent myself from asking her to bite me again. Right now.
This is the kind of pleasure that one could get addicted to. Worse, it leads me to a very dangerous fantasy of how much better that orgasm would be if she was actually touching me . . . if she was biting me somewhere else.
“The wounds will close quickly. You might be light-headed for a little while, but you’re not human, so I expect it will pass quickly.” She still has one arm banded around my waist. If she weren’t already touching me, I would have missed her tiny shiver. “I’ve never tasted a selkie before.”
It must be the orgasm muddling my thoughts, because there’s no other reason I would allow the question to leave my lips. “What do selkies taste like?”
“I don’t know what the others taste like, but you’re . . . salty.” She inhales deeply, inhales me. “There’s a depth of flavor there, something familiar and yet not at the same time.”
My brain is slowly coming back online, and that’s the only reason I’m able to stop my next question before I speak it. Is that a good thing? It doesn’t matter if it’s a good thing or not. I’m currently her only source of food. I just need to be grateful that I don’t have to suffer through the experience.
I’m a little woozy as I shift back to my spot and take up the rudder again. I want to blame it on the blood loss, but she only took a few mouthfuls. No, what’s scrambling my senses is her proximity and the pleasure she dealt me.
I’m in trouble.
Lizzie stretches out and makes a sound that I know isn’t sexual, but my body responds all the same. I’m helpless to do anything but stare at the long line of her. Her shirt rides up a tiny bit to reveal a slice of pale skin. Gods help me, but my mouth waters at the sight. I want to taste her. To see if she’s just as salty and layered as I am, or if there’s a sharp edge to her like I suspect. To discover what kinds of sounds she makes when she comes.
Foolish thoughts. Downright suicidal thoughts if I’m being honest. We’re partners; the very last thing we need is to complicate things with sex. The only reason we’re sailing together is because I need my skin and Lizzie needs her jewels. Once we’ve fulfilled those conditions, I’ll return home and so will she—to an entirely different realm.
I’ll never see her again.
The thought should bring relief, but there’s only a strange sense of loss. I barely know this vampire, and yet I’m drawn to her all the same. She’s not like anyone I’ve ever met, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface of her. That’s a good thing . . . or at least it should be.
Without meaning to, I lift my hand to my chin and press my fingers to the exact same spots she did back in Viedna. The memory of her holding me, commanding me back to myself, washes over me. Only this time it’s accompanied by her mouth on my skin, her teeth piercing me. With need.