The Lost: Book Two of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 12

Nuzzling at the firm flesh of my stomach, he went lower still, running his nose over the silky fabric of my underwear and I instinctively strained my groin upwards, wanting to feel his face between my thighs. Pressing his lips to my pubic bone, he pushed the fabric aside and slipped two fingers easily inside of me, making me hiss with pleasure and arch my back as he probed deeper, twisting them as he did so. His mouth moved over my skin lower and lower until finally his tongue found me and he began to tease with long, lazy strokes as his fingers still worked inside me. As I felt the first warm pulses shoot upwards from the base of my stomach, I shoved my fist partway into my mouth, biting down on my knuckles as I came hard, feeling the muscles spasm around his fingers which he didn't remove until I was done.

Not that he was done, mind you. Far from it actually. He rose into a kneeling position and as I looked up at him, I saw flashes of anger spark in his eyes and even though I was still trying to catch my breath, he flipped me over onto my stomach, spreading my thighs with his knees. With my cheek pressed against the mattress, I heard the distinct sound of his zipper as he undid his flies and yanked his jeans down over his hips. When he pressed his hardness against my back, I moaned and squirmed beneath him, hearing him growl in frustration.

Grabbing hold of my wrists, he placed my hands palms flat either side of my head and as he pushed himself inside of me, his hands covered mine so I couldn't move and he thrust upwards, each jut of his hips against my backside forcing him deeper and deeper inside of me. The combination of each thrust, the weight of his chest against my back and his hot breath on my neck had me gasping into the mattress, the delicious agony of not being able to move making me focus entirely on the friction between my thighs as he moved against me again and again, never easing the pressure, never stopping the intensity. He was relentless as always, only this time I sensed a grasping desperation in his actions, a forcefulness in each thrust as if he were goading me, challenging me to beg him to stop. Except, the harder he fucked me, the more I didn't want him to stop. Four days of feasting on blood was swept away as Harper did what he did best, feeding me and fulfilling me in a way that no kill ever could. I could only ever want more.

With one final thrust of his hips, he came with a guttural angry growl, interlocking his fingers with mine and holding me underneath him as he finished until all I could hear was the sound of our breathing again, this time heavy and rasping, instead of the strange soft intimacy of before. 

Rolling off me, he tumbled onto his back on the mattress and clutched his hair in his hands, a frown scarring his face with dark shadows. I turned over also, still feeling the waves spreading throughout my body, firing up my veins as I lay staring up at the cracked greying plaster of the ceiling. We remained like that for some time, not speaking, not touching, the tension enfolding us as we lay side by side in the gloom, listening to the irritated buzz of the flickering lights in the passageway outside.

Exhausted but finally satiated, my eyes began to close once more, unable to fight the deep pull of slumber but before I went under completely, I heard Harper sigh, like a whisper snaking through the darkened room and when his fingers tentatively touched mine, I turned my head to face him, silently watching him fade as the darkness took its hold.

*********

When I awoke some hours later, I was alone, wrapped up in the thin woolen blanket that always felt scratchy against my skin.

I dressed quickly, trying to ignore the dull pain that still persisted to assault my temples and the sound of the whispering spirits that clung to me like the constant cloud of a wasp swarm around my head. Rooting through the clothes that Garrick had gifted me, I found a pair of bleached out grey skinny jeans and an old band t-shirt that reminded me of the ones Harper often wore and I did my best with my hair, scraping my fingers through it and tugging it back into a high pony-tail.