Dracula and her Bride |GxG||18+|

11 | this just gets progressively filthier

Elisabeta moves down her body like a gentle stream, her tongue lapping out to tease each bit of skin that has Marienne panting. She writhes on her satin bedsheets, crumpling up the new dresses that have been laid out on her bed.

Marienne's skin burns like fire everywhere that Elisabeta brushes, an invisible brand that sinks into her very soul. When Elisabeta moves between her legs, Marienne sees a million stars. She gasps and bites her lip, trying not to make a sound. She doubts anyone would hear them, through the heavy wooden door of her bedchamber, but that theory was best not tested.

A warm feeling grows in the pit of Marienne's stomach as her thighs start to quiver with the effort of staying still. Elisabeta grabs her ankle and holds her in place, her tongue working wonders between her legs.

Marienne chest rises and falls rapidly as she stifles her moans. She finally lets go, unraveling in the best way possible. Her breathing loud and erratic, her head falls back against the pillow as she comes down from her high.

Elisabeta crawls back up her body, tongue tracing the curve of her breast up to her neck. "I hope I didn't tire you out too much."

Marienne swallows thickly, finding it difficult to speak. "Hm...rather...."

Elisabeta exhales a silent laugh, placing a single manicured finger to her lover's lips. "It seems I have. Do not speak."

Marienne watches in awe as Elisabeta proceeds to pleasure herself. Her fingers slide in and out of her core, slick with her own wetness. She draws herself up to her knees, straddling Marienne's hips. Her thighs squeeze together over Marienne's pelvic bone, finding a hard groove to ride on.

Marienne gazes up at the sex idol writhing against her hip. Elisabeta is absolutely stunning. The ends of her crimson hair curl over perky breasts, stroking against her nipples each time she bounces. It's mesmerizing.

She goes up and down, red curls bobbing over bouncy tits. Marienne pushes a hand up her waist and to her chest, brushing a thumb over her hard pink nipple.

Elisabeta puts on a show, moaning and gasping as she gets closer to the brink. She throws her head back and lets her hair flow down her spine, pushing forward her chest till her breasts are on full display.

Marienne can't resist so she sits up to bury her face between the round breasts, her tongue licking a stripe between them. It's in this position that Lady Elisabeta comes undone. Her back arched and her hands buried in a head of golden curls.

Elisabeta's breaths are ragged as she moves aside the heaps of new fabric and curls up beside Marienne. Marienne marvels at how the scarlet head of hair fits so perfectly in the dip of her collarbone.

Elisabeta lays over multicolored silks and ribbons, tired and spent. The setting suns highlight the sheen of sweat glistening on her brow. It dawns on Marienne that this is the last time she can see her like this. Naked in her bed.

It also dawns, with an even sicker wave of nausea, that by this time tomorrow she will be married. And by this time tomorrow night she will be in bed with Elisabeta's brother.

And the thought terrifies her.