Issue # 49- A Shattered Clasp

A Shattered Clasp
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Lips ripe as a summer peach cover his. The tip of her tongue slides over his mouth entreating him to open, to taste, to suckle, to invade. Each emotion intensified exponentially with each sultry pass of her tongue over his.

This was the fodder succubae craved most of all, the passion of her victim was her life-force. Each male she bedded added to her strength while sustaining her.

They had been crafted in the darkest regions of the unholy ones chamber…..a female who lived off the sexual drives of males and could handle the rutting of the one who ruled covens and demons and vast domains of shadow and night. Sent forth from his dominion with his seed well planted they now numbered into the thousands in this realm. Each one as wanton and hungry as her predecessors, each one birthed from a mother of a mother of mother…

Erick knows all this. Even as he allows her to entrance him into a mindless humping beast he knows…yet her taste is ambrosia, her smell wicked and wet and hot, her body made for nothing but sex and feeding.

Dominatria leaves his mouth to lave his corded neck; breasts heavy and full scrub across his chest. Her splayed legs grind her hips downward to mash her damp mound over his throbbing prick. His breathing is ragged. His muscles twitch and spasm with small sparks of her power leeching into him wherever her skin meets his.

Erick heaves under her when her teeth sink into his neck painfully. She knew. She knew he enjoyed the mix of pain and pleasure. He assumed she could feel her victim’s hidden proclivities to help ensure her of her meal. His blood weeps from the bite and her tongue laps up the blood of Rayvenwing.

“Do you like this my lord,” she inquires moving her hips in a slow circular motion, each pass nudging silken head over satiny button.

“Not as much as my cousin,” he pants out lost in the web the winged wanton weaves about her dinner.

“So the Guardian is the one who covets the fangs of the vampiress?” she asks softly tasting each stud that lines his upper ear.

“Yes,” Erick moans with lids closed. “I, he goes…let me…..”

Dominatria lifts her body up with ease, her wings slapping downward to bring her to a sitting position. She drops her head back, long auburn hair slithering back to tickle her naked bottom as she moves now forward and back, forward and back with languid pushes of her pelvis.

“Let you what my lord?” she inquires raising her shimmering hands to cup her full breasts. Erick lifts his lashes to watch her squeeze and fondle, pinch and tug nipples dark as cherry wood.

“Let me have you.”

Her gaze comes from the hand-carved ceiling and his spine tingles as her magick flows from her in one sinful teasing wave after another.

“In due time,” she replies breathlessly.