“Come here, Beau,” the man, Sterling, said.
The urge to crawl overcame me again, but I refused to succumb to the desire. I would walk, damn it. Enough with the humiliation already.
But I couldn’t. My limbs were too heavy, nearly impossible to even drag myself to my feet. I struggled, desperate.
“Don’t fight the desire, Beau. Come,” Sterling said. His voice held no inflection, no emotion, but there was power in it. And I yielded. Immediately falling back to my hands and knees, dragging myself to him.
The closer I got, the more I smelled it.
Lemon and clove.
It was him. It had to be.
He opened his arms to me. I did not hesitate to climb into them, straddling his waist, I wrapped my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck, pressing my face into his massive chest.
Oh my God. What am I doing? Why can’t I stop?
“Don’t fight it,” he whispered, breath tickling my ear. I shivered, pressing myself closer to him, squeezing my eyes shut so I could immerse myself in his being.
Master. Master. Master.
His arm came around me, holding me close.
“Bring him back after he’s properly fed,” the woman said.
“Yes, High Priestess.”
Sterling rose in one swift movement and my body barely jostled. One hand cupped my bare ass while the other crossed my back, holding me like I was a child. And I supposed I was in comparison to his ridiculously large form.
Time ceased to exist in his arms. One second he was lifting me up, another, he was laying me down. We were back in the room I had woken in. This time, the fireplace was lit, illuminating the once dark space. Sterling’s body hovered over mine, eyes boring down into my own.
Looking at him, I could see nothing else. From the slick gray hair, to his surprisingly young face. He had to be in his late twenties, early thirties. His eyes were narrow, hooded, a little fleshy beneath the lower lids. His nose was long, with a narrow bridge and wide base slightly upturned. His lips looked soft, plush, the top one thin and bow shaped while the bottom was thick. He had a slight cleft in his chin, just barely visible underneath the dusting of a beard trying to make itself known. His jawline was intense and square. And his body...well, it was incredible. Long limbs, thick, prominent muscles, broad chest, narrow waist. It was unreal.
Maybe he wasn’t beautiful by typical standards. Not everyone found intensity attractive...but to me? He was everything. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. Who the hell was he?
I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t find my voice. I could only stare up into those amazing green eyes of his. Silent. Choking.
“Sleep well?” Sterling asked. His voice was deep, smooth, assured. Someone who didn’t need to raise their voice to command a room.
“Yes,” I whispered without meaning to. The words just forced themselves out. He asked and I needed to answer.
Holy shit, what is wrong with me?
Sterling tilted his head, a knowing look on his face. “It’s alright. I understand what you are feeling. I know how I make you feel. I will explain in time, but for now, I don’t want you to fight it. Fighting it only makes the feeling worse.”
Fighting it had made it worse. Frighteningly so.
“I will not hurt you. I will protect you. I will make you full again.”
How did he know? How did he so accurately describe this clawing emptiness inside? I didn’t know who I was, what I was, how I got here, who they were. I didn’t know anything. It was terrifying. But I felt the sincerity in his words. I felt safe and comfortable as he hovered above me, easily keeping me from feeling his weight.
Sterling shifted, eyes never leaving mine, and gripped my bandaged wrist lightly. He inspected it, running his nose along the soft material.
“Still bleeding,” he murmured with a frown. Then his intensity increased. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” I mumbled.
There was relief in those green depths, but it was slight.
With a swift and precise movement, Sterling brought his finger to his neck and sliced it open. Crimson bloomed from the cut immediately. He tilted his head and offered it to me.
I yelped, jumping back, trying to scurry away from him, but he kept his hold firm. Absolute. In a quick, graceful move, he pulled me over so I lay atop him and his hand came down on my head, pushing me down. My face grew closer and closer to the wound on his neck, spilling steady rivulets of blood.
“Don’t fight. You’re thirsty. Drink.”
“No! No, no, no,” I protested, trying and failing to turn my head away.
“What did I say? Don’t fight it. It will seem strange now, but after your first taste, you will understand.”
When Sterling commanded it, I could not fight it. I tried and tried, but as he said, it only got worse.
So I acquiesced.
The first touch of my tongue against his skin was sublime. I didn’t immediately taste the blood, just the smooth expanse of skin on his neck. But as my tongue swiped up, the flavor exploded. Sweet, tangy, with a bit of a bite.
It was delicious.
Euphoric.
Orgasmic.
I held him closer, latching my lips to his skin, sucking in as much as I could. My body was flush against his, eager, needing to be closer. And Sterling’s hips rose to meet mine. I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel him. The hardness poking my inner thigh was all the proof I needed that he was experiencing this much the same way I was.
We rocked against each other, hips grinding, cocks stiffening, climax approaching. All that could be heard was the rustling of clothes, the suckling of skin, low grunts of pleasure, and the crackling of the fire.
My head went light at the sensation of it all. When I pulled back to breathe, Sterling’s breath hitched and hips jerked one last time. Like a punch in the gut, my climax smashed into me. It stained the shirt I wore and a bit painted Sterling’s chest.
Breathless, I collapsed onto him, smearing the mess between our bodies. I could hear Sterling’s heart beating furiously in his chest as he panted. After a few moments, his breathing settled and silence overtook the room. Nothing but the fire now.
Lips brushed my ear. “Sleep, Beau.”
And this time I didn’t fight his command.
Comments (6)
See all