Ambrosia (Nectar 2)

He let out a sexy groan and gently gripped the back of her head. Kyla couldn’t take all of him in but used her hands to compensate for the areas that couldn’t fit into her mouth. He seemed to be enjoying every minute of it but abruptly pulled back.

“Mmm, Tristan…” she pouted; wanting him to finish that way --- wanting him to come apart under her.

“I need to be inside you. Now.” He flipped her and then in an instant thrust deep into her, eased out, and then began a rhythm of depth and gyration. He slammed repeatedly into her, holding her face and staring into her eyes. She touched his face and then realized his eyes were turning black.

She gasped, “Oh, Tristan. Don’t. Please, baby.” She felt like the bottom was dropping out on her. Oh fuck. Not now.

“No, s’okay. I’m fine,” he breathed reassuringly and then his eyes were bluish and she felt anchored again, “I’m better than fine. Tell me you love me.”

“I do. I love you.”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” Relief washed over her.

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you so much.”

“Never leave me again.”

“Okay, babe.”

His voice went hoarse and his eyes went black again, “Never.”

“Never.”

“Tell me no one will ever fucking touch you but me. Ever!”

She gasped, fear spiking at his intensity, at how his eyes were gray.

“Tell me!” he demanded.

“Never. No one.”

“No fucking one! You love me?” His voice softened. The look in his eyes was so soft.

“Yes.”

“Say it again, baby.”

“I love you,” she caressed his face and his eyes were blue again.

“Again,” it was a plea.

“I love you. I love you.”

“Even though this is fucked up and I’m dangerous and I’m damned to hell?”

Her heart sank, “You’re changing. It’s not too late. You’re not damned.”

“I wish you were right. Dig your nails into my back. I’m going for your throat. Hang on tight.”

“Are you sure?”

Would he be able to stop?

“Now, Kyla.”

She grabbed his shoulders and held on tight. When he bit in the same war flew through her veins but even more powerfully. Possession, protectiveness, love, bliss, hunger. It was dizzying. She started to weep. She could taste rocky road ice cream. She could smell sugary marshmallows mixed with fire. Her veins and her core ebbed and flowed with pleasure and pain. He pounded and pounded and drank and drank, fingers digging into her hips. It felt so good. It felt so right. It felt like it was what she was made for. She was nothing but sensation, nothing but his.

“I really really love you,” she wept, and the orgasm gripped hard. He let go of her throat and arched his back as her nails dug in. His mouth was open, his face was ecstasy-filled, and his eyes were darker, blue flame-colored. He shuddered as he found his release.

“You’re mine and I’m yours,” he said tenderly and feathered kisses all over her face, “We’re forever, princess.”

She brushed her hair out of her eyes and wrapped her body around his, feeling light and airy, feeling whole.

“That was…” she started but couldn’t finish. Fucking amazing!

She looked at his face. His eyes were closed but he had a little smile on his lips. She touched the cleft on his chin and planted a kiss on his full soft lips.

“Your eyes kept changing colour. They were like disco lights,” she whispered.

His eyes opened. They were his usual blue. He frowned.

“We made it,” she whispered, “we survived.”

His expression relaxed and he let out a sigh. “We did.”

He pulled her closer, “A million tonnes just lifted off my shoulders,” he said.

If only that was the whole war.

“Talk to me. Tell me what was going on inside of you. Tell me what else I need to know.”

“Want a drink?” He went to get up.

“I’ll get it. Gotta wash up, anyway. You? Water, coke, grape?”

“Water.”

She pulled away and then spotted blood on her nails. She gasped and looked at them.

“Tristan!” she exclaimed, “Turn over.”

His back was scratched and bleeding in a few places, only lightly, but there were distinct nail marks.

“You’re bleeding!” Oh shit!

“Shhh, it’s okay. Let’s go wash your hands.” He jumped up and guided her to the bathroom. He turned the taps on and soaped her hands up, rubbing them gently, rinsing them under the water.

“Tigress,” he purred in her ear. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Keep rinsing,” he told her, kissed her temple, ran his tongue from her clavicle up to her earlobe, and then he disappeared back into the bedroom.

She let the hot water run over her hands for a good 2-3 more minutes, scrubbing her hands and using her nails to scrape under her other nails.

Tristan’s blood? Wow, scary.

She went to her purse and pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer she’d always carried and saturated her fingertips with it, then went back to the washroom and got cleaned up, then got drinks from their bags and put extras into the mini fridge and then passed him a bottle and opened a can of grape soda pop for herself and guzzled half of it and then threw herself back on the bed, feeling exhausted.