I didn’t want just another fuck driven by my need to feed or the demanding lure in my bones. I wanted to take my time. My fingers trailed, slipped, dipped. I sunk them down his abs and toward the sagging fabric. I pet the soft hair just above the band of his underwear with sacred appreciation.
I stopped.
“Why did you try to save us that day? How did you even get out?”
“I don’t know,” Crow replied softly before reaching up to palm my breasts. His fingers gripped hard, plunging into the pillowy skin and kneading my flesh. I gasped and moaned, hating the distraction of his touch when I so desperately wanted to understand him.
“What do you mean?” I asked the moment he pinched my nipple between his thumb and index finger. My back arched off the tile, crashing us even closer, sending his hard cock pressing against my stomach.
“I escaped. I nearly died. Went into hiding and made plans to never return here,” Crow began before leaning in to lick a trail up my neck. Slow, slow, slow, like he was savoring the taste. The low growl of approval that tumbled around in his chest made me whimper. It was too hot. Too much. “And then one day, something felt wrong. My crows were restless. It was a pull like nothing I’d ever felt before. At that point, I’d learned to trust their instincts. They were why I’d escaped Spector in the first place.”
He bit my earlobe and sucked on the skin right below it. Pulling with his mouth between gasped words and revealed intuitions.
“What did your demon want?”
Crow chuckled against my skin before pulling back. He grabbed my wrists and positioned my hands on his hips, using his thumb to stroke my skin. “I didn’t know, at first. When he led me to that building and I saw that there was another ritual going on, I laughed from the irony. When he urged me to break through the windows, I wanted to cry.” He leaned forward and kissed my lips then, a tender, slow, sensual, taunting, invigorating, stroking, tugging, enrapturing kiss. Our lips moved in tandem, our tongues tangling with desire.
When he pulled away, he stole my breath. I was nothing but gasping need.
“But when I saw you, Little Spider, I felt nothing but understanding.”
I didn’t understand, but I didn’t need thoughts. I needed to feel. I felt the connection between us, something timeless and precious and so unpredictable. I knew what we were. My spider knew. We’d met somewhere in the middle of our existence and accepted this undeniable pull.
Despite how new it was, despite Spector breathing down our necks, we found a tether connecting us. It started as fine silk but was fortified over time, becoming something stronger. Sometimes connections were bred from tragedy. People were scuffed, torn, and branded with pain. This connection I had with Tomb and Crow was like fine polish, making me new again. We found each other in the clutches of evil.
I grabbed the waistband of his boxers and slowly slipped them down. His cock sprung free and brushed against my trembling hands as the soaking wet material fell to the tile with a sloshing sound, scattering water like fireworks over my shins. He stepped out of them with a smile, our eyes still locked on one another in a delicate dance of boundaries. If we crossed this, there would be no coming back. If I fed from him, I could kill him.
“Your demon came for me,” I said in awe.
“And I stayed for you,” he added.
I dropped to my knees and winced at the hard tile that met my achy bones. There were no webs spilling from my fingers. There was no impulsive, famished spider pulling haunted, tantric words from my lips. She wasn’t directing my yearning body or my dripping pussy. She had slipped into the back of my mind, as if letting me feel like me again. For this.
For Crow.
“You going to put me in your mouth, Little Spider?” he asked.
My eyes were met with his hard cock and the silver piercing poised directly on the head. I wanted to feel the metallic taste on my tongue. I wanted it inside of me. “Yes,” I whispered before dragging my lips along his shaft, whispering prayers and salacious little nothings in my mind as he twitched from my delicate touch.
“Taste me,” he pleaded. “I want to see that fierce mouth consuming me, Motley.”
Thrill spurred me forward. I wrapped the lips he seemed to love so much around the head, sinking and sinking, inch by delightful inch, until his thick dick was poking the back of my throat—until I was gagging on cock. Until I was drowning in his smell and moaning at the way he twitched.
“Fuck,” he rasped. “You were made for my cock, baby.”
I’d felt power before. My sex life had become an exchange of control since Spector possessed me. I’d come to expect my deadly prowess, but right now, I was able to appreciate the power I had of simply being responsible for his pleasure.
I loved pumping his cock with my mouth. I loved feeling him slide all the way down my throat. I loved taunting him with my tongue and watching the way his muscles rippled with tension which each command of my body.
I didn’t need my spider to be in control. This was all me.
I thrust against him with broken whimpers, hollowing my cheeks and tightening around him as I did. He tasted good—salty and sweet. He tasted like divine magic meant only for me.
“I want to feel that tight little pussy clenching around my cock, Motley,” he urged while pulling my hair and guiding me off of him. His hardness slipped out of
