Page 126 of The Vespertine Treaty
I pulled out of her, the sound wet and obscene in the silence. She let out a soft protest, her head lulling back, her body draped over the dresser like a sacrificial offering I had ruined.
"I'm not done with you, Ophelia,” I growled, scooping her up into my arms. Her legs wrapped instinctively around my waist, her head falling onto my shoulder.
I carried her into the master bath and set her down on the wide, cold vanity. She shivered, her skin flushed and marked with my wax, my bites, my grip.
I turned the taps of the massive claw-foot tub, the water rushing out hot and loud. I grabbed handfuls of lavender salts and crushed star-petals, throwing them into the water, the scent rising instantly to mask the smell of our violence.
I turned back to her.
She was watching me, her eyes heavy-lidded, her legs spread slightly, open and exposed. She looked thoroughly ravished and she was leaking me, my very essence. A masterpiece of chaos.
And just like that, the blood rushed south again. Harder. More painful than before.
I stepped between her knees, my gaze dropping to her centre—swollen, wet, and glistening with my seed.
"You cannot be serious," she whispered, her voice a breathless, incredulous rasp. She looked down at the erection straining against my stomach. "You are insatiable."
"I am a starving male,” I corrected, a dark, dangerous smirk curling my lips.
I dropped to my knees.
Her eyes widened. "Cain, what?—"
"Tasting my wife, of course”, I said, the words vibrating against the inside of her thigh.
I didn't wait. I grabbed her hips, pulling her to the edge of the marble, and buried my face in her.
I feasted.
I used my tongue broad and flat, then sharp and punishing. I licked up the mess I had made, swallowing her, drinking her down like holy water. She tasted of salt and sweetness and life. She tasted of us.
"Oh gods—Cain!"
She bucked against me, her hands tangling in my hair, trying to pull me closer or push me away, I didn't know.
I didn't care.
I was possessed. The Void was screaming at me to destroy, to break, to kill, and I was drowning it out with the taste of her. Every whimper she made was a brick in the wall keeping the last vestiges of my sanity intact.
I sucked her clit into my mouth, humming against it, feeling her tremble.
"Please," she sobbed, her hips jerking. "Please, it's too much?—"
“You will take it," I snarled against her wetness, biting her sensitive skin, without breaking it, this time.
Her leg jerked out in a spasm of pleasure, knocking into one of the heavy votive candles lining the vanity. Hot wax splashed onto her thigh, searing a path down her skin.
She hissed, her body tensing, but she didn't pull away.
I paused, looking up from my feast, my face slick with her. I smirked at the new mark on her skin.
"Look at you," I whispered, running a thumb over the cooling wax. "Addicted to the burn already, Little Aenite?"
She grabbed my hair, yanking my head back with a ferocity that matched my own. Her green eyes were wild, dilated, burning with a lifetime of defiance.
"I have choked on pain since the day I was born, Cain," she hissed, her voice trembling but fierce. "I don't need more scars from you. Tonight, you don't get to just hurt me. You also get to give me the pleasure I have been starved of."
She tightened her grip, pulling me back into her.
