บท 169: | The Taste Of Her Soul

𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘

I watched as the drop of crimson trickled down her throat, the contrast of color breathtaking against her ivory skin. The animal in me scratched against its cage. I leaned down — my heart racing, my cock aching — and I gently eased my tongue across her skin, lapping up the tiny smear of blood.

The taste of her soul on my tongue was exquisite, and I growled, wanting more as I flexed, pushing my cock against her hip. "You bring out the devil in me, Anna. And I don't think I'm strong enough to fight him anymore." I dragged my tongue up her throat, my core heavy with a lust strong enough to own me — and to break her.

Her hand moved up my arm, my shoulder, wanting to wrap around my neck. But I grabbed it, forcing it down above her head. Judging by the adrenaline pulsing through my veins, I knew my grip on her wrist was too tight, but while the taste of her blood lingered in my mouth, I didn't give a fuck.