Rapture by L.V. Lane

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jacob

I RUT HER and drain her over and over again. Finally, by the fifth time, I manage to last more than a few strokes before I knot her. Rolling onto my back, I tuck her cheek against my chest and wait for the knot to soften. It doesn’t soften much, even as time passes.

Groaning softly, I grind her down as my cock jerks and pulses another jet of seed.

Never losing consciousness for more than moments, she frets a little until I purr, and then she quietens down.

I should remove her dress, but there is something deeply satisfying about taking her in the tatters… ruining her in the representation of her former high Blood life.

I want to collar her, I realize as I run my fingers through her silken red-gold hair. Not the harsh metal she was forced to endure as an orc slave, but soft leather that will clasp around her throat as a reminder that she belongs to me and only me.

A Chosen with the startling blue eyes counseled me in what to expect once the binding was lifted. He entreated me to ensure that Winter drank plenty of water and eat as much food as she would tolerate. She has taken a good amount of water but refuses to eat more than a few mouthfuls, even when I purr.

I trusted in his determination that I would not harm her. We are already imprinted, he said, heavier on my side than hers, and I would naturally read her limits and needs.

Even after all that was done to me, I never wished to harm her nor harbored a genuine desire for cruelty. But I do want to punish her.

I need to punish her, and some of this desire is because she is not as deeply imprinted upon me as I am upon her.

I want to carve my essence into her soul.

I want to obliterate her memories of lovers past that keep her from fully becoming mine.

I want her dependent, helpless, craving my cock and bite, hungry for my cum, and high on my scent.

She is centuries older than me, and I hate that I suffer doubts, despite my domination over her now. It does not help that I cannot fucking last every time her hot pussy envelopes me. Knowing she is mine, to enjoy, to drink from, sends me straight over the edge.

And her blood…

I could not envision how it would set a fire inside my belly, nor the rushing surge of power that washes through me until I become clumsy with my strength.

My hands pet and squeeze her plump ass, holding her still as another weak climax sees my balls strain to eject the last drops of cum. My purr lowers to a satisfied growl before evening out into a softer rumble.

She fidgets.

“Do you want some water?” The last few times, it has taken only a few gulps before she is drained.

“Winter?” I prompt when she doesn’t answer.

“I want to sleep,” she says, voice tired and a little whiney.

I smile. When was the last time I felt like smiling? My hands squeeze her ass again, enjoying the way it makes her clench over my cock and softening knot. “You need a drink,” I say.

Mumbled protests and a hiss accompanies me gently lifting her off of me.

Rolling her onto her back beside me, I take in my disheveled fairy. Her beautiful hair is a knotty mess, her cheeks rosy, although the rest of her is a little pale. Her dress is a crumpled mess, gaping at the front where I sought access to her pretty tits and rucked up at the waist, giving access to her pussy.

Cornflower eyes blink up at me as I lean over to fill the cup from the jug on the nightstand.

It does not escape my notice that her nose twitches and she draws a deeper breath as my chest braces over her.

Leaning back, I hold the cup to her lips, bracing the back of her head in my other hand. She tries to take the cup from me, even though she spilt it all over herself and the bed the one time I relented.

I growl in a warning, and her hands drop away. Eyeballing me with wary defiance over the rim, she takes a tiny sip.

“Drink a little more,” I say, enjoying the way her weakness forces her reliance on me as I tilt the cup of water to her lips. “Good girl.”

I smile again as she dutifully drains the cup before resting her head back against the pillow.

Placing the cup on the nightstand, my fingertips trail gently over the red welts where I have bitten her throat. She heals swiftly here. Were I not drinking constantly, it would heal completely within a few hours. I skim upward, tracing the shell of her delicate, pointed ear. She shudders, the skin flushing as it turns rigid with pleasure.

Her thighs twitch, squeezing together and drawing my attention there. I wonder what her pussy looks like and whether it is open after the many times I have forced my burgeoning knot inside.

I have shown her little tenderness thus far, taking advantage of her slick to claim her with rough impatience.

I am still impatient, yet sated enough that I have interest in doing more than spilling my seed and drinking her dry.

“Open your legs,” I say.

Her eyes flash to mine, but with only the briefest hesitation, she averts her face and spreads herself open for my inspection.

My cock jerks as I see the puffy folds, pink and hot-looking. Frothy cum spills out, and I use my thumb and finger to part her to better see her ruined cunt.

She twitches, drawing my attention briefly from her gaping pussy.

“Clench,” I say, pushing a single thick finger inside.

She does, squeezing my finger weakly, ruined muscled fluttering.

I pump in and out, delighting in the wet squelchy sound.

One arm is flung dramatically across her eyes. My little broken fairy is surely the most adorable creature in all the worlds.

“Are you sore?”

“Yes,” she says, although it comes out a little breathy, and through the bond, I can tell she is not only sore.

“Good,” I say. “Expect to spend a lot of time sore.”

She clamps down over my finger in a most arresting way, hissing her protest.

I chuckle, and that I am capable of genuine laughter surprises me. It lifts some of the darkness that has had me in a stranglehold. “Naughty little Breeder,” I say. “Try and relax for me while I play.”

She doesn’t relax, and if anything, she clenches tighter at my calling her a Breeder. I thrust a second finger in, forcing her to open for me, getting the tips of my fingers all over that little puckered entrance to her slick gland.

She tries to jerk away, stirring the predator in me. Pinning her to the bed, I rub the sensitive spot without mercy.

“Relax for me, Winter. Let me play with your little gland like a good girl. Otherwise, I will be forced to rut you again so that I might open you up—the rough kind of fucking that will make you very sore because you have been defiant.”

“Oh please! I cannot. It is too intense!”

She comes gasping and twitching and flooding over my fingers.

I pull them out with a squelchy pop. As she lies panting on the bed, I stuff them into my mouth. I can taste myself a little, but it is mostly her sweet slick that explodes across my tongue.

There is no hope for it. I crawl over her, line up my cock, and thrust deep.

She squeals in a way that is not all pleasure.

But I don’t let that stop me. Hand clasped around her tiny body, I rut her hard and deep until her groans turn to the wild ones of pleasure and her pussy fists my cock like it cannot live without my next scalding batch of seed.

“Good little Breeder,” I say with a growl before running my tongue around the sensitive shell of her ear. It turns rigid, and her small nails score into my back. “Open up for a good, deep fucking.”

My lips trail down her throat, finding the place that is mine. The place that I will bite.

“Do you want your warrior to drain you again?”

Her whimper sets my knot throbbing as it swells.

“I can sense how flushed you are with blood. You need this if you are not to make yourself ill.”

She thrashes under me, and I sense her climax approach with the same thunderous pressure that grips me. My knot, sensitive from our constant rutting, becomes a source of acute pleasure and pain.

“Come for me so that I might know you need me to take your blood.”

“No!”

Her cry is one of lost hope as her pussy begins to fist me, sending it swelling to the point where I must grit my teeth to force it in.

Cum ejects, hot, heavy pulses dumping deep, and the climax whites out my mind such that I don’t realize I have bitten her until her blood burns my throat.

I drink, gulping noisily, her pleasure bombarding mine through the bond until it engulfs us both in one giant sphere.

This time, I stop before I drain her. Just.

Her tiny body trembles under me as I heave gusty breaths against her throat.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she chants, small hands skimming over my body, kisses peppering my chest, throat, and jawline.

I like this—the grateful version of Winter.

Perhaps the lessons are over. As I roll onto my back, arranging her over me with my cock still buried intimately, I think that they are.

I still didn’t last very fucking long, I reflect dryly.

She continues to press kisses, small hands fluttering.

I purr.

She gentles, stilling and finally sighing before falling limp.

A faint snore emanates from her lips.

A tight place in my chest softens.

Long ago, when we were still slaves, I thought myself to love her.

Then I thought those feelings were utterly lost.

Now, as I am hellbent upon her punishment and when I least expect it, tenderness stirs.