Television they had called them, once. TV now.
Wolfgang tossed the rectangle aside, strode to her then kissed her. He surely loved kissing. Her mouth hurt after all this time wrenched apart, and she winced.
“Huh.” He examined her, his fingers exploring along her gumline. “Human teeth. Good. But I bet you can still crush my dick with these.” His mouth twisted at the corner. “I bet.”
Somehow that sounded… Wistful.
“You are so… You make me want to touch you.”
His hands ran over her, traveling skin on skin, murmuring thrills, summoning passion.
These fleeting touches conjured frissons, a trail of his fingers that made her shiver and gasp, tantalizing her at neck, ears, and breasts, tickling over her stomach. He seemed to marvel at what he found at times, and he bent and kissed her lightly like a supplicant priest.
Slowly he straightened. Wolfgang stepped away, breathing as hard as she.
He hesitated before he spoke, his hands curling up, closing.
“I’m going to take off the gag. You’re not to bite me.” That was said as if he wasn’t sure it would happen like he wanted but was past caring. “I want to hear you speak, the sounds you make—”
He glowered at her with his head tilted low.
Eyebrows raised, she found herself trembling. Stuck on her knees, tied up, and he was acting as if she had made him do this. She was something no one had catalogued or studied or, thankfully, dissected. Siren. Maybe, this was my doing? The thought sang to her and she smiled to herself. And what siren would refuse such mad devotion?
None.
She wasn’t sure if she would bite him under any circumstances. Not now.
Her need to mutilate him horrendously had been obliterated.
She needed him to touch her again. Needed, not wanted. Compulsion.
Even so. People bit too. Raffaela traced her tongue around the inside of the gag metal. She could’ve done it as a human girl. Dicks were not made of rock, no matter that men boasted of such. Some of her patrons in the streets of London had liked her biting them as they fucked her mouth.
“So. No biting. Okay?”
She nodded. Anything to get this thing off.
The gag was removed and placed beside the gun, then he stepped away and undressed. His hands were trembling, but his cock was fully erect.
So soon. That was not normal for a man.
She’d never tested her siren powers on land or when the Ravening was not on her.
“What are you doing to me?”
He leaned in and thumbed her neck on her beating pulse.
“You will see. Be good.” Desperation in that tone, passion in his hold. He pushed up her head, angled his own, and kissed her, this one hard and somehow grim. Determined kissing. Lips roved on lips, tugging, nipping, breathing each other’s air and delicate moans, and his tongue ventured into her mouth.
It was a torrid possession, a physical love with a care to arouse her that she’d not had before. Not ever. Her human life had been short, horrible, and minus love, once her mother died, unless you counted whoring.
No longer in charge of anyone’s death, unfettered from her cyclical compulsions, she let herself unravel and simply…
Be.
The kiss evolved, roamed, his mouth tasting at her lower, lower, at breast and underside, turning her nipples into small jutting rocks. His hands were on her, in her, delving into mouth and sliding over her, finding her cunt. She felt used and he’d barely done more than…
Well.
Well, he had come inside her asshole.
Not the same. Not enough. She shuddered as he bit the inside of her thigh and licked her there.
“Your clit is up and ready, like my cock.
“Clit?” She was confused. The words he used—
“This.” Lightly he bit her beside the button where her arousal centered. It brought a yelp from her, a flinch, and he laughed against her skin.
“More,” she croaked, groaning at the wet, soft heat of tongue and lips.
On her private parts. Raffaela arched. Oh. My. God.
His tongue wormed along the forepart of her slit.
Arching made her hands hurt at the wrists. Rope had her. He had her, and she moaned again, compelled by this attention.
Men did not do this, did not lick at her until she shook with desire.
“Want me?” he asked, teasing her again. “Inside you. Fucking you.”
Her pussy spasmed in at the thought of him fucking her.
She peered at him and made a strangled sound that said yes, or she thought it should.
“Come.” He stood then picked her up, carefully balancing her body in his arms, and he kissed her as he walked.
They ended up before the sofa, the TV on but ignored. Wolfgang lowered himself to the sofa and seated her over him. She had no choice in how he positioned her, her arms were at her sides and bound to ankles, her legs resting on the sofa and parted over him.
Over his cock. She looked down, fascinated, her pussy throbbing, pulsing it seemed to her heartbeat.
“See.” He wrapped his fist around it and eyed her. “You’re fucking turned on and still shifted to human. I might point out that shifting back right now would give your tail schizophrenia, but to hell with that. I want to spear you on my cock. Down.”
His fist tightened on his erection, and he shuffled her forward on his lap, her lower legs sliding on the leather. Shiny leather that gave under their weight. She sucked at her lip as she felt his cock probing her entrance, pushing upward.
And she threw back her head, feeling him enter her, his hands on her hips forcing her lower.
“Fuck,” he
