She drank.
Blood left me in long hard pulls. Each one took heat out of my arms first — the strength in my shoulders going soft, then my hands, then the fingers locked on her thighs.
I held the fold anyway. Knees crushed toward her shoulders. Cock buried to the hilt. The angle kept her cunt open around me whether she wanted it or not.
Her fangs were deep in my neck. Her growl vibrated against the wound. Her fingers punched into my back and anchored there like iron.
Adrenaline tore through the fog of blood loss and lit every nerve still working.
Two options.
Die on top of her.
Or fuck her until the river broke.
I chose.
I drove down into her — short, brutal strokes forced deep into a body that was trying to empty me.
The wet sound of it was thick and filthy under the softer sound of her throat working as she swallowed. My hips slammed.
The metal frame screamed against the stone with every thrust. Her cunt clenched around me in panicked spasms.
