I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 75: Chapter 75

Lysander’s pov

The mountain rain had been falling for three days straight.

I lost track of time somewhere around the second night. The sun meant nothing in the compound’s upper spire; the heavy velvet drapes kept the room in a perpetual, warm twilight, illuminated only by the dying embers in the massive stone fireplace and the soft, amber glow of the bedside lamps.

I lay sprawled across the dark silk sheets, my skin hot, sensitive, and completely spent.

My body didn’t ache the way it used to after a long night. It buzzed. Every nerve ending beneath my skin felt hyper-attuned, vibrating with a high, electric hum that made the heavy silk sheet feel like spun glass against my thighs.

Drake was sitting on the edge of the mattress beside me, his long, pale torso bare, his hair falling loose around his shoulders.

He held a glass filled with dark amber whiskey, his eyes fixed on my throat with an intense, quiet appraisal that made my pulse jump in my chest.

My heart started beating again, in tune to his gaze. I sat up slowly, the dark duvet sliding down my waist.

A week ago, moving after hours in his bed would have left my limbs heavy and bruised. Today, my muscles felt fluid, almost weightless.

I reached down, looking at my left forearm. Yesterday afternoon, during a desperate moment where Drake had pinned my hands above my head, the edge of his heavy signet ring had scraped deep across my wrist, drawing a bright bead of blood.

I brought my arm up to the light. The skin was completely smooth, it had healed.

"Look," I whispered.

Drake set his tumbler on the bedside table and turned toward me. He caught my wrist in his long, cool fingers, running the pad of his thumb over the spot where the cut had been twenty-four hours ago.

A slow, dark smile touched the corners of his thin lips. "Your cells are adapting, little bird," he purred."

He pulled my wrist to his mouth, pressing a soft, lingering kiss over the pristine skin.

The touch sent a sudden, sharp spike of heat straight to my core. Saliva flooded my mouth, my pupils dilating instantly as my gaze locked onto the faint blue vein pulsing under the pale skin of his inner wrist.

A fierce, desperate aching bloomed behind my ribs, not a physical hunger for food, but a deep, hollow, terrifying craving that made my jaw clench.

I wanted his blood.

I didn’t just want the high it gave me; I needed the taste of him on my tongue the way a drowning man needed air.

The thought of his taste hitting my bloodstream made my hips arch off the sheets on instinct, my hands reaching out to clutch his broad shoulders, pulling his heavy frame down over mine.

"Drake," I whimpered, my voice tight, needy, and completely devoid of pride. "Please..."

His bloodshot eyes flared bright in the dim room, glowing like hot coals in the shadows.

The sight of my total, desperate addiction brought a look of profound, terrifying satisfaction to his face.

"Show me how much you need it," he whispered, leaning his head back, exposing the long, immaculate line of his throat to me.

I pushed myself up, my fingers digging into the hard muscle of his back, and pressed my mouth directly over his pulse point. I didn’t have fangs, but I nipped at his cold skin with my teeth, my tongue tasting the faint, salty trace of his sweat, greedily tracing the heavy artery beneath.

He let out a low, dark growl. He reached down, catching a small blade from the nightstand, and casually dragged the tip across his collarbone, opening a clean line across his skin.

The sweet, copper aroma hit my senses all at once.

I pressed my lips to the cut instantly, my tongue lapping at the blood as it welled up from his flesh.

The moment his blood hit my tongue, the world exploded into brilliant, blinding color. A wave of euphoria rushed straight through my nervous system, replacing it with an intense, intoxicating heat that sent blood rushing to my cock.

I swallowed greedily, my fingers clutching at his neck, pulling him closer as I drank.

Every drop felt like fusing his power directly into my veins, making my heart hammer against my ribs.

As I drank from his chest, his hand slid down my stomach, pushing my thighs wide apart.

He started stroking my cock slowly, my cock was already seeping sperm. My hormones shot through the roof from the pleasure.

"Hnmph," I moaned into his neck, sucking harder.

My hole leaked more with fluids the more he stroked me, my briefs were becoming uncomfortable from the wetness.

"Does sucking my blood make you wet?" He rumbled.

I nodded shyly, he raised my hips and helped me shimmy out of my dampened briefs. He whistled,

"Look at you, little bed." He moaned with appreciation, "Flooding with my bedsheets with your sweet nectar."

He teased my opening with his finger, swirling it around. My sensitive self bucked off the bed, my lips separated from his neck.

I whimpered at the loss, "Drake..." a moan fell out of me.

He chuckled, saying nothing as he kept teasing me. I writhed below him, wanting more. I wanted his blood and his cock at the same time.

He inserted his finger inside me, bringing his neck closer. I lunged at the opening, sucking his neck aggressively.

"Gently, little bird." He rubbed my hair, the same time he was adding the second finger.

"Uh," I moaned again.

I felt full and so good. His fingers were coated from beginning to ending with my fluids, making it easier to go back and forth.

The dopamine in my body increased to the point of exploding.

"Do you want more, sweet boy?" He asked.

I nodded shyly, lifting my face to meet his gaze.

He laid back down on the bed, propping his head on the pillows and giving me a smirk.

"You know what to do," he urged.

I hoisted myself up to his face and made it my seat. He grabbed my legs and spread me apart, his tongue diving into my center.

"Ohhhhh!"

My toes went straight as my lips opened in a silent scream

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