Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (74)

Warmth, so swift and drugging, flooded from my scalp to my toes. It was akin to standing in the sun after feeling cold for an eternity. I shivered and moaned. My legs tightened around his waist and my head tilted to give him better access to my throat.

“Good little pet,” Florian crooned and lapped at my neck. “By the time we leave these rooms, you will hunger for me as much as I do you. And butterfly...” He circled his hips with a grunt. “We won’t be leaving for days.”

I gasped when he stole his warmth from me and rose.

I was pulled off his cock, his hooded eyes watching himself slowly leave my body. His chest heaved heavily, once, twice, while a glowing sky blue overtook his eyes. Then he lowered his head at the same time he lifted my legs from behind my knees, helping himself to my center.

“Florian...” I was about to warn him of the blood.

But of course, that would be redundant when it was blood he desired.

His tongue flattened and dipped, seeking every drop of my broken virginity. I orgasmed almost instantly and with violence, pain flaring and soothed by his tongue. He kissed my clit, then sucked it, and forced my thighs to stay open when I attempted to close them.

It was too much.

And not nearly enough.

He pushed his cock inside me as soon as my ass met the bedding again. “You’re so fucking swollen, butterfly.” My head was caged within the bulk of his arms, his bloodstained lips trailing over my jaw with his rasped, “Squeezing silk.”

Remembering that my hands were free, I clutched his head while he moved in and out of me, wanting his teeth in my neck again. He sensed as much as I held him there, and chuckled, the sound primal and throaty.

The sharp puncture of his canines stilled my limbs, but when he suckled, I was once again given that unearthly bliss.

A bliss that matched the sparking pleasure from the movement of his hips.

“Come on my cock, Tullia,” he ordered and licked at the blood I felt trickling toward the bedding. He groaned, tongue dipping into my clavicle, and began to fuck me harder.

My fingers clenched his hair, and my thighs shook.

He rose as I spasmed around him. “Fuck.”

I moaned and met his thrusts.

He gripped my throat when my back arched and my eyes closed. To the corner of my mouth, he demanded gruffly, “Eyes on me.”

His thrusts sharpened, learning where to strike to prolong the rapture racing through my veins and hitching every breath. His eyes were still aglow, his lips parted. His hand slid up my neck, his thumb rubbing my lower lip.

I caught it with my teeth and sucked.

His eyes flared. He stilled, then pounded into me three times before his head tipped back. His shoulders and throat corded with veins and muscle, his entire body shaking as he released with an animalistic sound inside me.

At that moment, I feared the consequences again, but for a different reason. As his thumb left my mouth and our gazes locked, I knew that even if I survived him, I would never recover from him.

Florian’s chest heaved with another violent, exhaled curse.

Then he fell over me and pressed his mouth to mine, hard and fleeting. His nose skimmed my cheek, his lips dragging down my chin to my chest.

Reclaiming his hair, I stared at the ceiling and licked my own blood from my lips.

Panic and thickening desire broke through my skin in a light sweat as he sucked my nipple and rotated his hips, the shudders of his body gentling. “It feels worse,” I thought aloud, fear entering my needy bones again.

His mouth left my breast with a wet pop, and the king I’d grown far too enamored with began to return.

He smirked down at me, but it was softer, his hooded eyes too, as he said, “I know.” Then he rolled off me. “On your hands and knees, butterfly.”





Apparently, I didn’t move fast enough.

He lifted and dropped me to the bed, and I yelped as he smacked my ass.

He gripped it, squeezing so tight I would surely bruise. I moaned through clenched teeth when his own nipped the flesh, then shook when his finger slid through the mess he’d made of me.

He rose behind me and knocked my knees open wider with one of his. A hand glided over my arching back, gooseflesh erupting and a purred sound leaving him. My hair was gathered and wrapped around his fist while he slowly circled my clit with his other hand. “Who put the bruise on your ribs?”

The need I needed him to quell faster flared so acutely, it almost hurt when he stopped touching me and waited for me to answer.

With the bodies likely still hanging in the drawing room two floors below, I couldn’t find it within me to hand over the guard, regardless of whether Fellan loathed me. After seeing what Florian did to males who danced with me and dared to touch me too much, I couldn’t imagine what he’d do to one who’d intentionally injured me.

I moaned with feigned frustration that was all too real. “I don’t know. There were a lot of people at the festival.”

He didn’t like that answer. But it was the only one he would get.

My head was pulled back by my hair until my eyes met deep-sea blue. “Do not protect the undeserving.”

“I need you to touch me,” I pleaded truthfully.

He relented with a twitch to his eye, but his hold on my hair remained tight. “Where?” When I didn’t respond, he tugged. “Your pretty little cunt?”