I tighten my grip on her throat ever so slightly, feeling the thrum of her pulse beat harder against my fingers. “I swear to the Divine I will lie and say that Rafe compelled the Drained to attack Mountain Haven and that he’s a threat to the wellness and safety of the people of Lunameade.”
Her heartbeat kicks up faster. “Purple.”
“Hmm?”
“The underwear you’re about to shred are dark purple.”
I shove her back into the wall, sending a picture hanging beside us shattering on the floor as I kiss her. She grabs a handful of my hair to tug me in closer. I unzip my pants and pull my cock free, giving it a quick stroke.
She gasps as I tighten my grip on her throat and cup her breast through her dress. Her nipples are already hard, poking against the dark silk and the lace beneath it.
This is different. This isn’t part of a ritual or a part of a performance. This is something she’s doing far away from prying eyes simply because she wants to. Even if she still hates me, it gives me hope.
It’s tempting to take my time and be thorough, but I don’t want to go slow. I want to fuck her so hard and deep that she’ll feel me in every movement for the rest of the week. Days of holding back and waiting out her anger have worn me down to nothing but wanting.
The dress is more conservative than what she normally wears, giventhe somber ceremony tonight, but I slide my hand up the slit in her right leg and hike the dress higher. She hooks her right thigh over my hip, and that’s all the encouragement I need. I lift her up, and, after a moment of fumbling with the dress, she wraps her legs around my waist.
I don’t shred her panties because I want to peel them off of her later and shove them in her mouth while I fuck her again. Instead, I brush them to the side and thrust into her hard.
A guttural moan tears out of Harlow’s mouth, and all I want is to hear that sound again and again, as many times as possible. I pin her to the wall and drive into her hard. She kisses me and bites my lip, and my fangs sting and push at my gums. I try to hold them back, but it’s almost impossible with her.
“Fuck, Harlow. You’re so wet,” I groan.
I kiss down her jaw and neck, breathing in her floral scent. I shouldn’t bite her. The next few days are going to be long and exhausting, and she needs her strength. But just the slightest brush of my fangs on her neck has her quivering around me.
I sink my teeth into the soft skin, and she moans and arches into me as I withdraw my fangs and suck her blood into my mouth. Her body spasms against me. She feels so good.
“Harder,” she groans.
The wall creaks behind her as I pump into her. Harlow’s hand flails out to the side for something to hold onto, and she knocks several books from the shelf built into the wall. They thud onto the floor as I continue fucking her.
It feels so good, so deep in this position. It’s only been a few agonizing days, but that’s way too long. I need this every night.
I take one last pull of her blood and kiss the wound closed. She whines in frustration.
Turning, I draw her away from the wall, carrying her over to the table where the boarding house staff left a tea set up for us.
Using one hand, I swipe the entire tea set off the table, sending the delicate cups and saucers shattering on the ground.
I lay her down. Her dress bunches around her waist as I shove her knees up toward her shoulders, and push into her again. The sight of my cock sliding in and out of her almost sends me over the edge. I lean over her, pressing deeper, and kiss her.
The sweet poison taste of her mouth mixes with the remnants of her blood in mine, and this is the only thing I want to taste forever.
The thought is jarring. This isn’t forever. It’s only until she finds out what’s really happening.
I fuck her harder, with all the frustration of being caught in this trap I created. Wanting her this way is a huge liability, but I can’t stop. I’m so hard it hurts. It’s not supposed to always be like this, but I’m so into her and her violent temper.
Harlow squirms beneath me, the tension in her body so close to breaking. I want to punish her for feeling so good. I fist my hand in her hair and force her to look at where our bodies are joined.
“Look how wet you are. Look how well you take me.”
That’s all it takes. She gasps and her whole body goes rigid. She cries out a hoarse moan. I hold her hips and thrust into her as my climax crashes over me.
Finally, it ebbs, and Harlow goes limp beneath me. The only sound in the room is our ragged breathing.
I draw away, trying to collect myself and smooth my clothes.
Harlow stays there for a few moments, her legs spread, hanging limply off the edge of the table as she catches her breath. Finally, when she’s stopped trembling, she slides her panties back into place, stands, and runs her hands over the front of her dress.
