Page 134 of Hunted

‘Do you intend to suck me dry, my little vixen?’

I moan in response, the sound vibrating around his cock.

He gives a low rumble that reverberates through the room and tunnels straight back between my legs. I cry out as sensation builds. His body tenses beneath me and I feel his control fray, his muscles locking.

Looking up through misting eyes, I see his mark, blood red and vibrant against his glistening skin.

Compelled by a force I don’t recognise, I drag my fingers from between my legs, up over his torso, and trail them, wet with my slick, over the mark.

His fangs bare, exposing the beast within. ‘Cursed demons of Netheris⁠—’

For a handful of seconds, Valentin Moretti fucks my mouth with desperation bordering on feral. His essence pulses hot against my tongue, and I’m certain he’s about to lose himself.

Then he stops.

I blink up at him, dazed, lips swollen and slick.

‘Not just yet, cacciatrice,’ he growls.

My cheeks flush with humiliation. And arousal.

And now I’m even more determined.

I crawl back up his body, breasts dragging against his chest. His grip on the bars is so tight even sinew and bone look strained. This is torture for him. For both of us. But I sense he means for me to fail.

It’s fucking on.

I re-straddle him, his cock still hard and leaking, trapped between us.

‘This what you want?’ I demand, breathless.

‘This is your show, bella.’ His grin is all teeth. ‘But if you want pointers, you could use that pretty pussy. Grind on me. Let me feel how⁠—’

I move, my wet centre dragging slow and hot down his length.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes, voice verging on violence now. His silver eyes dart between my face and my pussy. ‘Eira.’

His crown catches my clit and my breath breaks.

That is not what I planned.

But the way he’s looking at me, the way his fangs have fully descended, how he’s barely holding himself back⁠—

It’s intoxicating.

I rise onto my knees, positioning myself over the underside of his cock. The head brushes my folds and we both groan. I’m so wet, so ready, my body aching to be filled.

But I can’t let him in. Because that would be suicide.

And what… this isn’t? Having him inches away from piercing your pussy? Smelling your virgin blood?

I shake my head, then throw it back, because that’s one way of dislodging reason, isn’t it? One way of dispelling the saints currently praying for my stupid, reckless soul.

Instead, I rock my hips, dragging my slick lips along his shaft. The friction is maddening. Every slide of my pussy against his cock sends sparks through me, my clit throbbing with each pass.

His hands grip my ass, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

‘Fuck, just like that,’ he groans. ‘Ride me, baby. Use my cock to get yourself off.’