Page 292 of Vasmora

The friction vanished for white hot pain that streaked across my thigh, jarring me out of pleasure. Pressure against my knees held my legs in place, and he lowered his head between them. Suction pulled at my veins, and Zevander let out a groan, fingers digging into my hips, his mouth clamped tight to my thigh. He drank in gulps, the sensation stirring my arousal all over again, and a whimper slipped through my teeth.

The deep pull broke with a pop, and he pushed to his knees, blood smeared across his lips as he stared down at me. Weakness settled over me. Then warmth. Feverish warmth that had me scratching at my skin, desperate to crawl out of it.

Gods, had he hit an artery?

A fleeting thought, before his thick organ prodded my entrance, and he slid the dagger over his palm, pressing the gash to my mouth.

The copper tang hit my tongue as he dragged the weeping tip of his cock up and down my seam. Eyes shuttered, I moaned against his palm, swollen and throbbing, aching to be filled.

Please!

“Swallow it, moon witch. As much as you can, and I’ll give you what you crave.”

In my frustration, I gripped his wrist and sucked at the wound. For a cut that didn’t appear that deep, I managed to intake a surprising amount of his blood. It poured down my throat in a hot slug and warmed my stomach in a way that felt nostalgic. Comforting. Like morumberry wine on a cozy, winter solstice night.

He tasted like home.

A low, cramping need throbbed in my core, and I raised my hips, shamelessly grinding against him.

Zevander pushed inside of me, my body accommodating his girth, his palm still latched to my mouth as he inched deeper.

Deeper.

Relief poured through me in warm flushes, and I gripped his shoulders, toes curled, heels digging into the back of his thighs.

“Fuck.” His voice, rough with tension, plucked at my pulse, stirring the urge to bite him. Iron muscles trembled around me, a cage on the verge of collapsing. “You are ecstasy and pain, Lunamiszka.” He slid out entirely, then pushed back inside, slower than before, as if to relish the feeling all over again. “I’ll never tire of this.”

Unbridled lust burned in his gaze, but he kept a languid pace, ensuring every throbbing inch of him filled me, the piercings dragging across my flesh. Even through whatever drunken fog had settled over my mind, I could feel that delicious friction rubbing against my walls, and I held my breath with every thrust.

He broke into a steady rhythm, his body flexing, moving with the ease of a perfectly crafted machine. A thick map of veins protruded from his neck, the tension in his fingers digging into my jaw, threatening to crack my bones. Stuttering breaths slipped through his clenched teeth, his gaze focused. Determined.

The world around us blurred, until all I could see, feel, taste and touch was him.

His blood pulsed through me, lashing through my veins like a scorpion’s stinger, a venomous heat that dulled my senses. Visions flashed before my eyes too fast to absorb. The two of us drenched in sweat, tangled in each other like two merging flames. Our bond threading together, over and over, forming a tight knot low in my belly.

My nerves frayed, my skin attune to his every touch.

He upped the pace, his breathing shallow, hair damp with sweat as I clutched the back of his head.

Fervent thrusts rocked me against the bed and a fist of pressure clamped around my core, squeezing and releasing in waves of pure euphoria. I was drifting, floating, my consciousness flitting across my eyes like a string captured by the breeze.

“Stay with me, A’miszhla.” His voice broke through the haze. “Stay with me.”

The words echoed in my head, fading as I slid into visions of silky black ribbons tied across flesh. Squirming against the binds. Moaning and kicking.

Liquid fire poured through me in a breathless rush, and my eyes shot open to Zevander, rutting against me, a sheen of sweat across his chest, his muscles tight as he held my hiked knees at either side of him, hips thrusting into me in powerful strokes.

Movement overhead dragged my attention toward the ceiling, where ribbons of black and silver flames danced through the air above us in a magical waltz. I focused on them, mesmerized by the way they twined together like darkness and light.

Death and life.

A tight knot pulled at my core, and I fisted the sheets, letting out a ragged moan.

My body was flipped over, knees propped beneath me, face flat against the pillow. Hot and panting, I backed myself against his groin with the restless frustration of an animal in heat, desperate to be mounted. He pushed inside of me, and like the delicate petals of a moonflower in sunlight, every part of me curled inward, the pleasure so intense, I shook, drool spilling from the corner of my mouth.

Zevander chanted words behind me in a language I didn’t understand. Primyrian, no doubt, every syllable punctuated by his thrusts. His fingers dug into my hips, holding me steady as he drove harder. Faster.

My core tightened again. Released. Tightened. The little contractions, faster than before, grew in intensity.