Chapter 352: Feather Light (Part Two)
The fire had burned low and the moon had begun its inexorable journey toward the horizon by the time Nyrielle and Ashlynn began their game of Fangs and Feather. The few moments that Nyrielle spent appreciating her lover’s beauty left Ashlynn squirming in anticipation as every sense strained to feel the slightest touch.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as the faintest whisper of a breeze from the shuttered windows drifted through the room. The muscles of her abdomen clenched as she tensed for a faint touch that never came. No sooner had she begun to relax, however, than Nyrielle climbed into the bed. The movement tugged at the bedspread beneath her, triggering Ashlynn’s sensitive body yet again as she tensed, waiting for Nyrielle to make her move.
Slowly, like a great cat stalking its prey, Nyrielle crawled across the bed, hovering just above Ashlynn’s tender sides. Slowly, moving with a combination of grace and precision that would be impossible for most humans, she reached out with the tip of the feather’s quill, lightly prodding her with a faint, sharp pressure.
"Fangs," Ashlynn said confidently as her body shivered at Nyrielle’s touch. She’d imagined she could at least feel the vampire’s breath on her skin before a fang made contact but she’d forgotten that, if she didn’t wish to, Nyrielle didn’t need to breathe at all. It was only due to years of habit that the vampire did so, but now that very habit had turned into a surprising advantage!
"Wrong," Nyrielle said with a wicked smile. Leaning in close, she brushed her lips across Ashlynn’s side before pricking her skin ever so lightly with her fangs. The instant she did, a wave of pleasure rippled through Ashlynn’s body, pulling a startled gasp from her lips before she bit her lower lip and allowed the sensation to consume her until she felt Nyrielle’s tongue lapping up a few drops of blood like a kitten lapping up cream.
"Let’s try again," Nyrielle said, shifting on the bed to approach Ashlynn’s opposite side, this time, hovering just above her mark of the witch. While she wouldn’t risk biting into the mark itself, the smooth, creamy thigh beneath the mark offered a perfect target for the tip of her fang.
"That was a fang," Ashlynn said, clutching at the sheets that bound her wrists to stop from flinching away from Nyrielle’s feather-light touch. "This time, that really was a fang."
"Oh?" Nyrielle said in a slow, languid tone. "How do you know?"
"When you pricked me with the quill, I felt the faintest brush of the soft strands at the base of the feather," she said proudly. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but now that she had something to compare it to, she was certain that she’d noticed something different from the first time. "I’m right, aren’t I? Fangs?"