9
Dryas
“I need food,” Rue moans, her arm thrown across her eyes. I throw back the covers from her body, eyeing the curve of her naked hip.
She peeks at me, pulling a face. I smirk as I trace that curve with my fingers until I find the weight of her full breast. There I find another curve to follow. She wrinkles her nose when I move to put her pebbled n****e in my mouth.
“What?” I say against her skin. But it sounds more like whaaa? I release her n****e, touching the tip of my tongue to the gorgeously pink bit of flesh. If I could, I would feast on Rue; feed on her moans of pleasure and sighs of anticipation, nibble on the fragile shell of each of her ears, glut myself on the welcoming honey between her thighs.
There is a moment, right before she comes. Whether I am in her or using my
