15. Belladonna

15

BELLADONNA

I’ve wanted to kiss Rusalka for days. Maybe from the moment I met her. I don’t know. I can’t think when she’s kissing me like this, like she has all the time in the world, like she wants to memorize my taste, like maybe she actually cares about me for more than what I’m able to give her. The thought boggles my mind.

Or maybe it’s the slow friction against her thigh that’s boggling my mind and scattering my thoughts. My whole body lights up with the contact. She seems to know it, though I can’t begin to guess if it’s due to her succubus powers or simply instinct. Rusalka always seems to know what I need.

My panties are slick with my need, which adds to the grinding desire that sparks through my veins. Again and again.

Rusalka keeps one hand at my hip and bends me back a little so they can kiss down my jawline to my throat. They drag their tongue over my pulse as if they can taste it beneath my skin. “Come for me, little one.”

My brain blanks. I try to wrest control back, to frantically grind at their leg, but Rusalka holds me steady, forcing me to keep the rhythm slow.

She chuckles. “Slow, Belladonna. Some things can’t be rushed.”

I don’t understand that. The only times I dared touch myself in the dark of the night were frantic guilt-ridden experiences that I simultaneously craved and wanted over as quickly as possible. Even after I left the church and became determined to go my own way, I couldn’t shake the shameful feelings when stroking myself to completion.

She doesn’t let me lead, and somehow that unblocks something in my brain. I don’t have to fight this. I can simply allow the river of lust to take me and trust Rusalka to care for me.

As soon as the thought fades, my body takes over. The hot knot of need in my core explodes. “Rusalka,” I sob out. “Oh?.?.?. my?.?.?. I?.?.?.” I keep speaking, but the words lose any meaning.

They keep my hips rolling for a few more beats and then ease me back to slump against them. They rub slow circles on my back as I learn how to breathe for what feels like the first time. I try to tense, prepared for the wave of shame that always comes after anything sex related, even if it only happens in my head. The shame is there. I can feel it waiting in the wings. But it can’t touch me right now, not as I’m safely encircled in Rusalka’s arms.

I bury my face in their throat and hug them tightly, wanting this moment to last forever. It’s only as my heartbeat slowly returns to normal that I realize how selfish I’ve been. I try to lift my head, but Rusalka catches me. “What brings that tension into your body, Belladonna?” they ask carefully.

It strikes me that they’ve been careful with me from the beginning. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from that. I swallow hard. “You didn’t?.?.?. I didn’t?.?.?.”

She laughs softly. Kindly. “This isn’t tit for tat, little one. I don’t require an orgasm just because I gave you one. Your pleasure is enough for now.”

I want to keep arguing, but Ramanu’s question circles in my head, stalling me. Am I pushing this because I want to or out of obligation? Even as I wonder, I know the truth. I crave to see Rusalka undone in the same way that they undid me. “I want to.”

Their hand pauses its tracing of soothing circles on my back. “Next time, little one.”

I open my eyes, not sure when I closed them. “Do you?.?.?. not want me to?”

She freezes. “That’s not what I said.”

“But you’re brushing me off. If you don’t want to, it’s okay. I don’t want you to feel obligated, contract or no.” I don’t lift my head from her shoulder. I’m not brave enough to look into her face as I say this. “But if you want me as much as you seem to?.?.?. Rusalka, I want you, too.” She didn’t use magic on me this time. My thoughts are clear, remarkably so.

I slip out of her arms to kneel at her feet. Rusalka looks taller like this, towering over me in all her perfection. Her tail flicks next to me, but I don’t understand succubi enough to know if it’s in agitation or something else.

I carefully place my hands on her thighs. “Please, Rusalka.” I lick my lips, want making me lightheaded. “I don’t really know what I’m doing, but you could show me. I want to. I really, really want to.”

For a long moment, I think she might reiterate her rejection. Instead she worries at her bottom lip. “I don’t want to be another memory that you flog yourself with at the altar of your cruel god.”

I flinch. I can’t help it. They’re right, even if I’m fighting against doing exactly that. “I’m a work in progress. I’m trying to learn to reach for what I want. For?.?.?. who?.?.?. I want.”

Her exhale is loud between us. Finally she nods. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” I fumble at the front of her pants until she nudges my hands away and undoes them herself. A few quick jerks and they’re on the floor and?.?.?.

Rusalka is as beautiful here as everywhere else. I got a good look at Zhenya the other night, and zir anatomy seemed similar to a human’s, at least to mine, but Rusalka is shaved except for a strip of hair above her?.?.?. pussy. Almost like a direction, an invitation.

I shift closer, between their thighs, and try to remember what Inna did to me. It seems to me that sex is like any other skill and there’s a wide spectrum of experience, but thinking about it like that only reinforces how little I know what I’m doing. Sex with Jacob was a submission, a flurry of lust and shame and unfulfilled need. This is different in so many ways.

Wrong, that ugly voice inside me whispers.

I shove it away and dive into Rusalka. The shame stays away when I’m too busy feeling, so I’ll never stop feeling. Especially when the first drag of my tongue through their folds makes Rusalka moan. Just a little, but that’s enough to incite me further.

More than that, they taste?.?.?. It’s so different than I expected when I dared imagine what being with someone who has a similar body to mine would be like. Salty and something unidentifiable, something good. I want more.

Rusalka shifts and spreads their legs wider. “Take your time, little one.” Their voice is breathy, but still controlled.

The permission is exactly what I need. I lick and taste and occasionally nibble, exploring them even as I pay attention to what touches and pressure makes their breathing change. I’ve spent my entire life watching those around me and adjusting my actions and words in response. I’ve never done it like this, with only pleasure in mind.

It feels like liberation.

A brush between my thighs startles me. I look down to find Rusalka’s tail. “Oh.”

“Take off your pants, Belladonna.” Their voice has gone low and sensual. It doesn’t feel the way their magic did the other night, but it weaves a spell around me all the same. I awkwardly wrestle out of my pants and kick them away. Within seconds, I’m rewarded by that tufted tail pressing to my pussy through my soaked panties. I whimper, and Rusalka laces their claws through my hair. “I love how wet I make you.”

“I love how wet I make you.” The words feel just as sinful on my tongue as her taste, and yet for the first time, that’s a thrill instead of a shame. I look up her perfect body. “Show me how to make you orgasm. Please.”

They smile, the expression somehow both caring and lustful. I didn’t know those two things could go hand in hand. They tug me gently up to their clitoris. “Right here, little one. Slow strokes with the flat of your tongue.” As I obey, eager to feel them come all over my face, they start rolling their hips in a rhythm identical to that of their tail rubbing against my pussy. Pleasure surges, driving me before it. I’m going to come again, but I refuse to let it happen without Rusalka there beside me.

I’m so busy fighting to give her exactly what she asked for that at first I don’t notice the buzzing against my tongue. How could I? My entire body is buzzing at this point. But with each stroke, it gets stronger, and I belatedly realize that her clitoris is vibrating.

I force my eyes open and watch her head fall back as pleasure takes her, as pleasure takes us both. At the same time, flames erupt at her back and form a familiar shape that almost shocks me into freezing. Wings.

When Rusalka orgasms, she looks like an angel.