Feathers That Bleed

by Sana Khatri

“Fuck, Little Swan; you’re driving me insane.” I smile and open my eyes. “And we haven’t even done anything yet,” I say. “Oh, but I’m about to, because fuck if I’ll let you walk away without making that pretty pussy of yours come under my command.” With a grin, he gets on his knees before me, spreads my legs wider, and hoists my right leg over his shoulder. “No barriers, remember?” he recalls my demand from our previous encounter. “No barriers,” I concede. I’m out of breath as I watch him lift my dress up through its v-cut, and when he groans after seeing the silver satin of my underwear, I move my hips forward – silently asking him to get me out of my fucking misery. I don’t care if someone walks in on us right now. I’m way past the point of return with this man. I’m drugged on him; exalted by the very essence of him. “Hold this for me,” Dorran orders, referring to the lifted opening in my dress. I do as I’m told, then suck in a breath when he haphazardly pushes my underwear to the side, parts my pussy lips, and leans in to kiss my clit. “Dorran…” I moan, and use my free hand to run my fingers through his curls. He grabs my ass and pulls my hips forward, then takes my clit into his mouth before pressing his teeth onto it. I arch my back at the delicious pressure, and at the dull, throbbing pain in my ribs from my still-healing bruises, then tighten my hold on his hair when he alternates between licking and sucking my mound. “Keep those eyes on me, Little Swan,” he says, m...