Alaric's hold on her tightened as though grounding her, and when her gaze fluttered down to him, she saw nothing but devotion and need in his darkened eyes.
His mouth never wavered, his tongue exploring her with reverence, leaving her breathless and desperate for more.
Alaric was utterly lost, consumed by the intoxicating taste of his wife. He had never imagined anything so divine—her sweetness surpassed even the rich ecstasy of her blood.
While her blood fueled his existence, igniting his soul with fire and purpose, her body—her essence—felt like heaven itself.
Her honeypot was a sanctuary he never wanted to leave, a place he would gladly perish if it meant being with her forever.
His lips sealed around her clit, sucking gently but insistently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves in deliberate, measured strokes.
