“Your trust, flamma, is the most addictive drug.”
The quiet words penetrated her hazed mind as she looked down to where his voice was coming from, seeing nothing, almost like an invisible man was touching her. The Shadow Man. Her man.
“I won’t give you more of it,” she told him in her split second of clarity, and felt his teeth on the inside of her thigh.
“You will. Every atom in your body sings for me too.”
His words reminded her of the note, her thighs clenching around his shoulders in recall. “My body’s reactions mean nothing.” With the way it had been used and abused over the years, she didn’t trust it. She didn’t even like it. The self-loathing phase she had for her body in the beginning was long gone; it was just numbness now.
Something warm pressed into her clit, making her gasp. “Even meaningless, they’re all mine.”
She wanted to refute his statement but another wave of haze came over her. She cried, sobbing because he claimed her without claiming her, he wanted her without wanting her, and she needed more, she needed him, and he didn't give her that. She cried and resisted as the pain in her body increased, and he stayed until she surrendered. His mouth wreaked havoc as he made her come again and again and again, to the point where she passed out, or she thought she did. A large part of it went blank for her, but her body kept responding, kept reacting, kept coming, leaving her sore and satiated yet empty and incomplete, clenching with a thirst she felt in her soul, never to be quenched.
Yet, he stayed with her.
Chapter sevenHim
This accelerated things.
Orgasm after orgasm, sensory overload for him, changed everything.
Since his memory served, his sensory receptors hadn’t worked right. He had never been able to respond to any sight or sound, even if he registered it. But seeing her had felt like finding the richest shades of his favorite colors, seared across his retinas with a taste of something sweet on his tongue. People had said that was an odd experience because of his eyes, but he knew it wasn’t that. His perception of things was just different. But it was her voice that he couldn’t explain. The first time he heard her speaking, the sound had sent vibrations over his skin, like a tuning fork hit with something, rippling across his body with such vividness it was unheard of, again leaving him with the sweet taste on his tongue. He had sought her out again, just to see for himself if it had been a fluke or real.
His body still buzzed from the vibrations of her words, her little cries, her strangled moans, his mouth filled with both her juices and the sensory sweet taste, a combination he was becoming addicted to with each passing second. It was real. And whatever it was, it was his. He didn’t care if she had this effect on any other human. He would eradicate them all until he was the only one left standing, if that was the case.
Her exhausted body jerked in her slumber, and he ran a finger over her delectable mouth. Lush lips pillowed under his touch and he wondered what she would taste like there. He had never kissed someone on the mouth, never really had the urge to. Why would he want a stranger’s mouth so close to his own and their fluids in his body? It made no sense. Fucking, he could understand. It was a biological need, but kissing wasn’t. Oral wasn’t either, which was one of the reasons he had never tasted pussy either. But he was well-versed in the ways of pleasure, and with her taste cemented on him, he doubted he’d taste another again, just hers.
He was going to be her last and she would be his first in so many ways.
He pressed the heel of his hand down on his cock, the piercings straining as it continued to throb, hard for the hours he’d been wringing out delicious orgasms from her pussy. His tongue, the same tongue her pussy had spasmed around through the night, was swollen with sensation.
Oh, he was going to fuck her, fuck her hard. He would take her like that one day, he decided. Maybe slide inside her while she slept, make her give him her trust to the point her body intuitively reacted to him even in her sleep. And in the morning, she would wake up sore with no memory of how but feeling him in every inch of her delicate, delicious cunt. He was going to test her trust, take every little ounce that she had in her capacity, until her body, her mind, her fucking soul believed in how important she was.
She was it.
She was the reason.
She saw him for who he was, and she melted for him. She hated him, and yet she trusted him. What had begun as intrigue had turned into fascination, slowly morphing into a fixation, culminating in an obsession so deep he was incomplete without it.
And one day very soon, she would be entirely his.