Pure Requiem - Aja James Page 0,42

even more euphoric by the accompanying pain.

She drinks the blood from the root of my sex slowly, partly sucking through the puncture wounds made by her fangs, partly licking with her tongue.

Pain and pleasure blend together. I cannot separate them. I do not want to.

My hands wind into her hair of their own volition, my body impatient for more.

“Take all of me into your throat,” I command her roughly, my voice like gravel.

I snap my hips forward, trying to make her focus on the head of my weeping cock where I’m most sensitive, most hungry for her attention.

She withdraws her fangs and licks the small wounds closed, but doesn’t obey me.

“Not yet,” she says sternly. “I have plans for you.”

Then, unexpectedly, she asks, “What did you cook for dinner?”

Overwhelmed by the sensations she evokes in me, I answer without thinking, “Meat and potatoes, just a simple fare.”

“Purrfect,” she growls.

“This is the perfect meat.”

She licks a hot, wet trail from the base of my pulsing cock to the engorged crown, circling the head of my sex once, twice, before jabbing the tip of her tongue into my swollen slit.

I grunt at the incredible feeling and sway on my feet. If her claws in my ass hadn’t been keeping me prisoner where she wanted me, I might have lost my balance.

“And these…” she says as her mouth moves back down my sex to the heavy weights below, “are the perfect potatoes.”

My gasp of surprised laughter is cut short when she sucks one of my sacs into her mouth, her nose pushing into my groin as she inhales deeply where my scent is strongest.

“Mmm,” she mumbles as she does the same to the other sac, “such a delectable, delicious meal. And smells as good as it tastes.”

“Ishtar…”

“Lie down on the grass, my love.”

Her request is half demand, half entreaty. The needy possessiveness of her tone makes me even harder.

She retracts her claws and sits back a little, making room for me.

“On your stomach,” she instructs when I lower myself to the ground.

Instinctively, my body rebels against the implication of what she is asking.

She wants me exposed, naked and vulnerable. She knows what was done to me. She’s seen the scars. She’s lived my nightmares.

It is my deepest shame. My greatest pain.

I cannot—

“Trust me, my heart,” she murmurs softly, her once again human hands with their gentle fingers stroking lightly along my sides.

“If this love is pain, then let’s hurt tonight. Let’s hurt and heal together. Believe in me, Tal. Believe in us.”

Swallowing hard, I slowly stretch out on the thick, lush carpet of grass and turn on my stomach, fighting my inner demons with every move.

“Breathe, Tal,” her low, sultry voice entreats. “Breathe in the night air, as fresh as can be in a place like New York City. Do you smell the salt from the nearby Bay? Feel the sticky humidity in the air. The soft, silky grass beneath your skin. The scent of rich, fertile soil. The clouds above are pregnant with rain…”

A few beads of water plop onto my back and arms as she speaks. Thunder rolls softly in the distance as a hazy drizzle descends upon the lands.

“Do you feel that? Warm, wholesome earth. Cool, clean rain. You’re not trapped in any prison, my love. We’re outside in the open, in our own little paradise. You’re free. I’m free. I want to be free with you.”

I inhale deep breaths and close my blind eyes, letting my other senses take over.

Everything she describes, I absorb. I hear the rustling of leaves in nearby trees. The distant bustle of the sleepless city. The sounds of small animals that inhabit the garden. The occasional lapping of water in the pool when the breeze blows across it.

I am free.

Everything that we do here will be by my choice. Whether pain or pleasure, it will be my desire.

Wordlessly, I fold my arms under my face and open my thighs, inviting her to touch me. My body is still tense, every muscle turned to steel, but I offer it to her willingly.

To take. To own. To fuck.

To love.

She straddles the small of my back and puts her hands on my shoulders, kneading and massaging deeply. She is still fully dressed, the fabric of her trousers lightly abrading my skin, while I am entirely naked.

Because of this, I do feel rather like a feast laid out for a hungry predator. Perhaps she is “tenderizing” the meat before she eats it.

The thought makes my lips curl at