The Phoenix Prophecy: Nova

She’s quivering. With the straps down over her shoulders, her bra can barely contain her breasts as she breathes heavily in and out.

The gun is still doing its work. Now I’ve set it in motion, and it knows what to do, I don’t need to touch it.

But I need to touch her.

I grip the side of the bed harder.

“I saw Tanner on his knees with your cock in his mouth.” Her words are small, breathy, dripping with the memory of what she watched from her hiding place. “I saw you bend him over the desk. I saw him come.”

“Did you like it?” I reach out and snag my index finger in the hem of her bra cup. She’s about to wriggle, but I tell her, “Keep still. Don’t move.”

She presses her palms flat into the bed and closes her eyes.

I repeat my question. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

I tug gently on the turquoise fabric that’s only just holding her large breasts in place, pulling it down until one perfect, rose-red nipple meets the air. It’s hard and begging to be touched. I brush my finger across it, and with my other hand, adjust my dick.

“Fuck,” she says. Her eyes open and meet mine. Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s doing a very good job of staying still.

I drink her in. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

The hunger is pulsing in my throat. But I’m not thirsty for her blood; it’s her pussy I want to feel on my tongue.

I stand up. The ink is almost done. The scar on her chest is now almost completely covered, but I don’t stop to think what the pattern might mean.

I look at the gun and it stops. Then I reach out and pull her jeans down over her sumptuous hips. When they’re in a heap on the floor, I take her panties too, then I grab hold of the tattoo gun and tell her to sit up.

I put it down next to her.

“Take this off.” I gesture to her bra, still covering one breast. “I want it gone. I don’t want anything getting between my lips and your flesh.”

She obeys. In seconds, she’s completely exposed.Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

This is the answer. I don’t need her blood. I need her. All of her.

I dip my head and draw a line with my tongue from her throat down between her breasts. I reach my hands around her back and pull her closer. She’s warm beneath my palms.

For just a few brief seconds, I circle her nipple with my tongue. Slowly. Painfully slowly.

She scrapes her fingers through my hair and tries to make me go faster, but as she lets out her first groan of pleasure, I pull away.

I sit down and edge the stool closer to the bed. I lower it, and instinctively, without me having to ask, she puts her legs over my shoulders.

I nod approvingly. “Good girl.”

She has opened her legs for me. Even though I had my hands around her throat less than half an hour ago, she’s giving herself to me.

Fated to those who are not what they seem.

The voice that’s becoming all too familiar pounds in my ears. Fated. Fated. Fated. 

I breathe her in. The scent of her inner thighs. She groans again as I move my lips toward her waiting clit.

When I finally taste her, I know I will never have enough of her.

Her hips start to rock as I suck, lick, and tease her.

Her slit is so wet I know I’ll still smell of her when I’m done.

I want to put my hand in my pants and squeeze my cock as I make her come, but at the same time, I want to fill her up. I slide one finger inside her. She twitches and groans for more, so I add a second, then a third.

She crosses her ankles at the back of my neck and jerks me closer, thrusting desperately. She’s leaning up on one arm while she grips the top of my head with her other hand. She calls my name. I look up at her from between her legs. Her skin is glowing.

Fuck.

A spark flies into the air. Then another.

Her pussy starts to flutter against my fingers. She’s dripping wet, and she’s going to come for me.

She lets out a guttural cry and tips her head back. Her cunt is pulsing around my fingers. I lick my lips and tell her. “That’s right. Good girl.”

But as she slams her hands down on the bed on either side of her, there’s a sound that stops me in my tracks. Like glass… breaking.

She cries again, but this time it’s different. My fingers are still inside her when she lifts her hand. Black ink is dripping down her arm. Sticking out of her palm is a piece of glass.

The barrel. She broke the barrel.

I can’t move. I want to tell her to run, but before I can, a metallic smell fills the air as her blood merges with the ink.

She’s staring at me like she knows what’s about to happen. I meet her eyes, praying she can see that she needs to do something. Anything.

She does the worst thing. She pulls the shard free and drops it to the ground.

There’s silence, but I can hear her body. Her lungs quivering. Her veins coursing with adrenaline. I take my shaking hand away from her and put my fingers in my mouth. Her pussy isn’t enough anymore.

My eyes roll back in my head and the hunger rolls through me. She screams and scrambles backward. She runs for the door. I lunge after her, but she throws out an arm and a ball of fire pummels into my chest, sending me hurtling across the room.

I don’t know if she’s burned me. I don’t care. She’s fucking magnificent.

Striding after her, slamming through the door so hard it clatters off its hinges, I follow the scent of blood.