Daughter Of Lilith (Mature)

Daughter of Lilith part two

Heaven smelt like wild musk roses warmed in the rising sun, so too did hell, for one and the other lay in this chamber.

Her skin as white as freshly fallen snow, hair the living flame of harvest leaves; lips, ripe summer berries and eyes green as tender spring grass.

His four seasons.
Tilting his head, he smiled. Those eyes were closed to him at present.

Like a snake she always slept deeply after a feed. From the glow of her body, the repast had been recent.

He could never sleep like that; his hunger couldn't be assuaged as easily as hers. It perpetually burned, ravenous, because it was denied the one thing it needed to sup on.

He slid his fingertips over the dewy, petal soft skin of her throat, to the upper swell of her bosom.
Her mother’s handmaidens had bathed and oiled her supple flesh in sweet almond, but the musk of roses over powered any added scent. He released the soft linen that covered her from his searching gaze, spreading the towel wide, his nostrils flared, inhaling gently.

The smell was stronger, his reaction to it primitive.

Lost in slumber she might be, but her body was awakening to its master.
He crouched over her, took a shell pink nipple into his mouth, sucking gently on its hardening tip.

So sweet.

Her small, throaty moan as she arched against his mouth roared through him. He had to force himself to calm his raging lust, not to plunder and feast like a starving man. That mistake had been made before; he was too hungry to make it again.

His lips dragged over her pliable, undulating belly, to the source of the heady fragrance filling the room. Her thighs parting agreeably at the slightest nudge of his hands. Glistening pink winked, beckoned his mouth with the allure of a split pomegranate. Panting faintly, he curled his tongue into the ripe, forbidden fruit.

Her honeyed taste exploded on his tongue, and he growled in satisfaction. Closing his eyes, he willed his body to have patience. She couldn't move from beneath him while their flesh had contact, he reminded himself fiercely. It had been so long, so very long since he'd achieved satiation within her. Venice 1765, the last time he had found her vulnerable.

Breathy whimpers grew more fevered as she rocked against his gorging mouth. He sank his hands into the sheets beneath her, griping handfuls of crisp cotton, he could no longer trust himself to touch her with consideration. The heels of delicate feet kneaded his ribs and his body sang with its demand to join with hers, to feel those heels drum against his buttocks in a carnal beat.

Half angel, half demon, wholly his to own.

A high pitched cry pleased his ears, shapely feet now digging into his shoulders, gaining purchase to buck against his toying lips. She was so close to completion. Yanking on the sheets he bought her hard against his mouth.
The feet shoved strongly, kicking him away. If he hadn't been so lost to his own enjoyment he might have anticipated her move. As it was he lost contact with her skin. Before he could reconnect with it she was gone, only the mocking fragrance of musk remained.

Cain, son of Adam, husband to Lilim, howled in thwarted frustration.