Nipples Piercing Quotes

I’ll do anything to be good for you, Tate.” “Anything, baby,” I promised. “Anything?” she laughed out, her eyes bright with happiness and love. “Have you ever considered a nipple piercing?

Okay, so you want your other nipple pierced," she said pulling up a chair and getting her supplies ready. "She wants my other nipple pierced," he replied winking at.

Camille Paglia is: 'the nipple-pierced person's Phyllis Schlafly who poses as a sexual renegade but is in fact the most dutiful of patriarchal daughters.

He’s got five rings in his ear, eighteen gauge to ten gauge, but when I told him to get one in his nipple to match mine, and to get a Sailor Moon tattoo - because I like Sailor Moon? - or if not that, a skull, he stopped calling me.

Fuck you! I pierced my nipples for her!

The silky dressing gown was open, revealing his smooth, bare chest and, Curtis couldn’t but notice, dark nipples, one of which—oh, good God—was pierced with a silver ring.

That arrogance of yours is such an endearing asset.' 'Why, thank you. It was either that or get my nipple pierced.

He stood looking down at me with a white towel wrapped around his waist. I always imagined what he might look like after seven years, but even my wildest dreams couldn’t have conjured up what I was actually met with. His messy black hair had now been replaced by longish sexy waves that curled around his ears. He was wearing glasses. He looked even sexier in glasses. Even from here, I could see the piercing gray of his eyes through them. His inked body was bigger, even more built than before. He lifted a cigarette to his mouth and even amidst the shock of seeing him, disappointment set in that he was smoking again. Elec blew out the smoke as his eyes stayed fixed on mine. He wasn’t smiling. He just looked at me intently. His powerful stare alone had put all of my senses on high alert, throwing my body out of whack. My head was pounding, my eyes were teary, my ears were beating, my mouth was watering, my nipples were hard, my hands were trembling, my knees were shaking and my heart…I couldn’t describe what was going on inside my chest. Before I could process any of this, a woman with blonde hair came up from behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

My rib cage clenched all of the organs and muscles within it. It pulsed, full of life and warmth and gummy bears and glitter. This was... I don't know how to explain it—it was like Christmas morning when you were a kid. It was everything I’d wanted. Each of his thumbs curved over the shells of my ears. "That's my girl." His girl. After all the crap that I'd gone through today, there couldn't have been three better words to hear. Well, there were three other words I'd like to hear but I'd take these from him. That didn't mean that he was the only one who knew how to give. He'd given enough. My bones and heart knew that there was nothing for me to fear. I loved him and sometimes there were consequences of it that were scary, but it—the emotion itself—wasn't. I knew that now. What kind of life was I living if I let my fears steer me? This was a gift I’d forgotten to appreciate lately. For so long I’d been happy to just be alive but now...now I had Dex. I had my entire life ahead of me, and I needed to quit being a wuss and grab life by the balls. In this case, I’d take his nipple piercings. “What’cha thinkin’, Ritz?” I held my hands out for him to see how badly they were shaking. “I’m thinking that I love you so much it scares me. See?” Dex's thumbs tipped my chin back so that I could look at his face—at his beautiful, scruffy face. "Baby." He said my name like a purr that reached the vertebrae of my spine. "And even though it really scares the living crap out of me, I love you, and I want you to know that. Everything you've done for me..." Oh hell. I had to let out a long gust of breath. "Thank you. You're the best thing that ever yelled at me." He murmured my name again, low and smooth. The pads of his thumbs dug a little deeper into the soft tissue on the underside of my jaw. "If all the shit I do for you, and all the shit I'd be willin' to do for you doesn't tell you how deep you've snuck into me, honey, then I'll tell you." He lowered his mouth right next to my ear, his teeth nipping at my lobe before he whispered, "Love you." The feeling that swamped me was indescribable. He gave me hope. This big, ex-felon with a temper, reminded me of how strong I was, and then made me stronger on top of it. "Dex," I exhaled his name. He nipped my ear again. "I love you, Ritz." The scruff of his jaw scraped my own before he bit it gently. "Love your fuckin' face, your that's what she said jokes, your dorky ass high-fives and your arm, but I really fuckin' love how much of a little shit you are. You got nuts bigger than your brother, baby." I choked out a laugh. Dex tipped my head back even further, holding the weight on his long fingers as he bit the curve of my chin. "And those are gonna be my nuts, you little bad ass." Fire shot straight through my chest. "Yeah?" I panted. "Yeah." He nodded, biting my chin even harder. "I already told you I keep what's mine.

Ooooh, oh fucking hell yeah… oooohhh,” Marco moaned. “I’m going to split your little dragon boypussy in two.” “Promises, promises,” Andreas teased, then took Marco all the way down his throat. I smiled as I watched Marco arch on my pillow, gasping in pleasure. I lifted his shirt up revealing his thick mat of luscious, black hair and pinched his pierced nipple, then I flicked the tender nub with my finger. He twitched several times and I knew the sensation of my touch and what I was doing combined with Andreas skillful mouth was going to shoot him to the moon.

My eyes dropped back down to his lips. They were full and way too soft for a guy, which I knew for a fact because they’d been all over my neck earlier. Yup, I’d definitely suck on those, given the chance. I’d suck on them for a good long time. Then I’d start moving down, trying out that pierced nipple on the way down to his cock.

As though he’s reading my mind, he grits out a pained, irritated “Fuck, it should be me.” I squeeze my thighs together to relieve the pressure between my legs. Sorry. Better luck next time. The pulse only grows stronger, and I know there is no stopping my unraveling. “Why the fuck isn’t it me, L?” His voice has this carnal edge to it. “Why am I not the one touching you right now? Fucking why?” I visualize it. Imagine it. See his tongue teasing my pierced nipple, and a soft moan shoots out of my mouth before I can stop it. This seems to trigger him because he groans a low, desperate “Christ, just tell me who you are. Fuck the pact. Fuck the secrets. Fuck it all. Just tell me who are you, L. Please. Let this be real.” The sentiment fractures my heart into a billion tiny pieces. I want it to be real, too.

On the way out, Etienne pointed to the tattoo gun and the piercing tools. “If you’ve got time after all this shit’s over. I always did like virgins. Take your pick.” From anyone else, that line would’ve sounded cheesy. From Etienne, it sounded hot. If you were mine, I’d make you pierce it. Tom’s voice, after he’d bit Prophet’s nipple the first time they’d had sex. It tingled every fucking time Prophet thought about those words. He thought about how Tommy had sketched the dreamcatcher on his cast. How he’d fucked Prophet to sleep. How Doc told him Tommy had been upset when the dreamcatcher cast had been cut off. Prophet was in so far over his head. And for someone who knew how to swim, that shouldn’t’ve been nearly as terrifying as it was.

Kristen- So you know I ran… and he got me. He had his belt in hand ready to whip me, and he did repeatedly until I fell to the ground, with him straddling me, his hand touching me, he started pinching me, and that is when he pierced my nipple with an old rusty nail. ‘Honey hush,’ he said as I screamed, even more, the second time; because I knew the pain was picking and nearing. He laughed- ‘Saying now everything matches!’ I recall him saying this- as he pulled me up dragging me by the hair. ‘Good now your bare ass can rub up on the bark of the tree, and then I can smack it later on tonight. You would like that? Wouldn’t you? My little bitch!’ Kristen- I had to say- ‘Yes, Yes- I would!’ I screamed louder than I have ever had in my entire life! For the reason that I knew what was coming! I could see him coming with the cruel tools in hand! I was thinking to myself. ‘Please God don’t let him have a screwdriver.’’ Because knew what he would do with it, and where it would be shoved in! Just for the hell of it, he drew a target on my tummy with my lipstick and started throwing tools like wrenches, trying to hit the same spot. I thought for sure something of his was going to go deep inside me. He looked at me, flashing scissors, and said in a sick way. ‘Look, baby, these are the same scissors your momma used to slit her wrist. He slapped them in my hand, and said it is your choice; you can do the same thing she had the choice of... What do you say? You know these are the very same scissors, that gave your mother the episiotomy that brought you into this world. Now they can be the same scissors to take you out.’ Gasping for breath in being so appalled, I remember saying- ‘What did I do to you?’ He said- ‘It is not what you did to me, it is what they want, and what I was asked to do, and what they will do to me if I don’t!’ I said- ‘Who are they?’ He whispered in my ear, as well as he bit it- my earlobe with his teeth afterward saying. - ‘You are that stupid? I knew it! Will If I tell you, I will have to kill you.’ He said- (In a very paranoid, yet almost cocky tone of voice.) So, I yelled back- ‘Just do it- you- vain shit-face!’ That is when he did it, one by one. Yes, one toe by toe, all the nails went in and through my fingernails and flesh. This happened to my hand, palm, and wrists one nail at a time. (Bang! Bang! Bang!) Until the point that I was able to suspend from them alone on the tree. The same tree that he carved our names into, saying forever and ever. I have to say at that point I did not want to live, saying get me down! Then he yelled- ‘Not yet- my baby!

Well I do." I kissed his nipple and he twitched. God, I loved that. "And I studied literature, so that's that Mr. Businessman.

How many piercings do you have?” I ask. He starts to count on his fingers. He stops at seven. “Seven?” “Where?” He points to each nipple, then his ears, then the shell of his ear. And then his gaze goes down to his crotch. He’s not smiling, and his eyes narrow as though he’s waiting to see my reaction. I gasp and nearly choke on my inhale. “Down there?” I whisper, a grin tugging at my lips. He nods, taking a sip of his root beer. “Did they hurt?” I suddenly have the most obnoxious desire to see every last one. He shrugs. “Can you do one for me?” I ask. Then I rush on to say, “Not today. Or any time soon. I don’t have enough money.” “Where would you want it?” he asks. I’ve only had my ears pierced and never thought of doing any other part of my body. My nipples go hard just thinking about it. “Did your nipples hurt?” I whisper. Then I realize he can’t tell I’m whispering, since he’s just reading my lips. “It hurts a little when you do it, but it goes away. Just like any other piercing.” I can’t stop thinking about the one down there. Heat creeps up my cheeks again. “I could pierce you. Anywhere you want,” he says. This time his face floods with color. “Anywhere?” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he only opens one, and he looks at me like he’s wincing when he says carefully, “Anywhere.” He looks at my boobs again and licks his lips. “Take your pick.” Suddenly, I’m curious. “You do a lot of those?” I don’t know why that bothers me. “The… ones…down there?” He shrugs. I don’t like the idea of him touching anyone’s private places. Not at all. Although the idea of him touching mine… I squirm in my seat, and he arches an eyebrow at me. “Something wrong?” he asks. He’s smirking. I shake my head, biting my lips together. “Can anyone get a piercing like that?” I point toward my lap. I don’t know why I’m being so bold about this, but I’m curious. “Most people can.” He plays with the salt shaker. “We’d have to take a look to see what type of piercing would be best for you.” My face flames at the thought of him taking a look down there. He pushes my root beer toward me and says, “Drink. Before you pass out.” He’s grinning, though, and I’ve never seen such a look of confidence on a man. The awkwardness of a moment before has passed. And he’s enjoying making me squirm.

Diablos: the name given to the igniting of, and ignited, farts. Trevor Hickey is the undisputed master of this arcane and perilous art. The stakes could not be higher. Get the timing even slightly wrong and there will be consequences far more serious than singed trousers; the word backdraught clamours unspoken at the back of every spectator’s mind. Total silence now as, with an almost imperceptible tremble (entirely artificial, ‘just part of the show’ as Trevor puts it) his hand brings the match between his legs and – foom! a sound like the fabric of the universe being ripped in two, counterpointed by its opposite, a collective intake of breath, as from Trevor’s bottom proceeds a magnificent plume of flame – jetting out it’s got to be nearly three feet, they tell each other afterwards, a cold and beautiful purple-blue enchantment that for an instant bathes the locker room in unearthly light. No one knows quite what Trevor Hickey’s diet is, or his exercise regime; if you ask him about it, he will simply say that he has a gift, and having witnessed it, you would be hard-pressed to argue, although why God should have given him this gift in particular is less easy to say. But then, strange talents abound in the fourteen-year-old confraternity. As well as Trevor Hickey, ‘The Duke of Diablos’, you have people like Rory ‘Pins’ Moran, who on one occasion had fifty-eight pins piercing the epidermis of his left hand; GP O’Sullivan, able to simulate the noises of cans opening, mobile phones bleeping, pneumatic doors, etc., at least as well as the guy in Police Academy; Henry Lafayette, who is double-jointed and famously escaped from a box of jockstraps after being locked inside it by Lionel. These boys’ abilities are regarded quite as highly by their peers as the more conventional athletic and sporting kinds, as is any claim to physical freakishness, such as waggling ears (Mitchell Gogan), unusually high mucous production (Hector ‘Hectoplasm’ O’Looney), notable ugliness (Damien Lawlor) and inexplicably slimy, greenish hair (Vince Bailey). Fame in the second year is a surprisingly broad church; among the two-hundred-plus boys, there is scarcely anyone who does not have some ability or idiosyncrasy or weird body condition for which he is celebrated. As with so many things at this particular point in their lives, though, that situation is changing by the day. School, with its endless emphasis on conformity, careers, the Future, may be partly to blame, but the key to the shift in attitudes is, without a doubt, girls. Until recently the opinion of girls was of little consequence; now – overnight, almost – it is paramount; and girls have quite different, some would go so far as to say deeply conservative, criteria with regard to what constitutes a gift. They do not care how many golf balls you can fit in your mouth; they are unmoved by third nipples; they do not, most of them, consider mastery of Diablos to be a feather in your cap – even when you explain to them how dangerous it is, even when you offer to teach them how to do it themselves, an offer you have never extended to any of your classmates, who would actually pay big money for this expertise, or you could even call it lore – wait, come back!

There it is—his million-dollar smile. I can’t see his dimple winking at me, but I know that it is. He runs his hand through my long, thick dark-brown curls and starts to massage the back of my neck. As he leans towards me, I find myself playing with his pierced nipple. His lips are centimeters away from mine, my heart is pounding in my head, and I can barely remember to breath. His other hand slides up my bare thigh, and I close my eyes. I can feel the heat from his breath along my jaw. His lips graze the bottom of my ear lobe, and when I hear him whisper those three little words in my ear, I wonder if I am actually dreaming. When he brushes my bottom lip with his tongue, I know that I am wide awake. I can feel my heart beginning to crack, knowing that this will not be able to last much longer. He begins to graze kisses along my jaw. When our lips meet, I know that I will be broken for a long time. I could kiss him forever, and I want to, but I only have minutes. I want days. I want weeks. I want forever! As he pulls away and our eyes meet, I realize that I don’t get any of those things. All I get is one last swift kiss before he’s gone. I lie down on my bed, curl into a tight little ball, and begin to cry. When I hear his car start, I feel the crack in my chest getting bigger, and as the sounds of his engine start to dissipate, knowing that’s he’s gone, realizing that I was head over heels in love with him but didn’t tell him, that’s when my heart shatters completely.

Slowly she became aware that the tiny compartment was filled with a sharp, spicy scent. It was like nothing she had ever smelled before—wild and somehow completely masculine. Mmm, nice. Her nose twitched—it seemed to be coming from Sylvan. But when did he have time to put on cologne? “Are you wearing aftershave?” she asked dreamily. “Aftershave?” He sounded confused. “You know—cologne. Perfume. A scent you put on your skin to make you smell good. Don’t the Kindred have anything like that?” “No, we have a very enhanced sense of smell. We don’t like anything that covers up our natural scent.” “Then what smells so good?” She was rubbing her cheek against the warm, hard wall of his chest in a way that would have seemed terminally wrong and uncomfortable just a few minutes ago. Yet now it seemed perfectly natural and right. Why was that? And why didn’t she want to let him go? She could feel the hard ridge of his cock branding her belly, just as it had during the Luck Kiss but even that didn’t alarm her. Instead, she felt herself responding. Her nipples were suddenly tight and achy and the small pair of bikini underwear she had on under her green bridesmaid’s dress felt too tight. Their lace crotch seemed to rub against her in a way that was both irritating and pleasurable. She took another deep breath. “Mmm…smells like…I don’t know what, but incredible,” she murmured, still rubbing against him like a cat. Sylvan stiffened against her. “Sophia, you’re not acting like yourself. This scent…you say it smells extremely good?” “Yes, can’t you smell it? I—” She looked up as she spoke and saw that he was looking down at her again. There was a troubled look in his pale blue eyes, but it wasn’t his eyes that bothered her—it was his mouth. His fangs were out. Long and sharp and prominent, they gleamed in the dim light of the tube like daggers ready to pierce flesh. My flesh! she realized in a flash. “Oh!” She jumped away from him and would have fallen backwards out of the transport tube if he hadn’t caught her by the arm. “Let me go!” She pulled away from his hand and took another step back. Her kitten heels made clattering echoes in the vast open space of the docking bay. “What? What’s wrong?” Sylvan frowned at her as he unfolded himself from the small space and stepped out of the tube. “Y-your fangs.” Sophie pointed with a trembling finger. With a muffled curse he clapped a hand over his mouth. A look of painful concentration crossed his face and then he took his palm away from his lips and she saw that his fangs were back to their normal length. “Forgive me.” He spoke as though it hurt to get the words out. “I didn’t…didn’t realize…” “It’s okay.” She shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to do or say. It was clear she’d offended him by pointing out his fangs.

His skin was furred like that of a horse. Snakes danced and hissed from his head, their thin bodies acting as his hair. Two long fangs protruded over his bottom lip. He had human hands, but his feet were hooves. Muscle was stacked upon muscle on his torso, and his nipples were pierced by two large silver rings. Metal chains circled his neck, wrists and ankles, and those chains kept him tethered to the pillars. “Who are you?” Strider demanded. No need to ask what the thing was. Ugly as shit covered it. He

She motioned for Prophet to follow her. As Tom’s X-ray came through the machine, Prophet almost bit off his tongue. Clear nipple piercings and slightly more blurry cock piercings. Jesus, he hadn’t expected that. He

Holes start to close fast.” He threaded the bar quickly through his left nipple, hissing at the slight sting of pain, which made him hard. And Prophet watched the whole thing with complete and utter interest. “Dude, that had to hurt.” “That’s the whole point.” His voice was rough, his hands were shaking, and, in tandem, his head was beginning to throb. He refused to tell Prophet any of it. But Prophet was next to him, taking the remaining piercings from him. “I’ll do it.” “No.” “Why?” Because I’m gonna get hard if you touch me. “Fine.” Prophet capped the piercing Tom had already put in. Then he tugged the other nipple toward him and slid the piercing in, capping it expertly while Tommy watched. He didn’t bother to hide his erection through the towel. He knows you’re already hard. “Okay?” Prophet asked, and Tom could only nod yes. “Towel off.” Tom dropped it. Wanted to say something like, I have to be hard for the piercings to go in, but he couldn’t. And Prophet didn’t seem to care, and he didn’t know how insulted he should be about that. “You’re sure?” Tom asked. “Yeah.” Prophet stared at him, and he didn’t want to make a bigger deal of the whole thing, so he grabbed his dick, positioned it up against his stomach, and let Prophet slide the piercings in. He tried to ignore the fact that Prophet had dropped to his knees and that his mouth was inches from Tom’s dick, but he couldn’t help but watch, fascinated, as Prophet threaded the piercings in, waiting for Tom to catch his breath between each one. When Prophet finished with all five, Tom pulled the towel back around him loosely and went to the bed. He sat back against the pillows, and Prophet watched him silently for a few moments before saying, “You’re your very own whipping boy. How’s that work?

Piercings,” Prophet said, his brow furrowed. “You’re the one who put them back in. Don’t worry—you’ll enjoy the hell out of them.” He rasped a tongue over Prophet’s nipple, then bit the nub again. “Fuck.

He’s beautiful, with his skin covered in lots of ink and piercings—eyebrow, septum, bottom lip, ears, tongue, nipples and genitals.

Breaking our kiss, he breathed a curse, then dropped his head to my chest. He yanked the soft cups of my bra down, then latched his mouth onto one of my rock hard, aching nipples, flicking them with his piercing. I moaned as he sucked and nipped, the throbbing need in my core growing hotter by the second. It was an itch that so damn badly needed to be scratched. Hard. I reached for Steele's belt, unbuckling the supple leather from the warm metal of his buckle.

My mind trails back to the sight of her luscious ass walking away from me in that dress today. I didn’t think I had a type. I like all shapes and sizes. But I’ve come to realize that I definitely have a preference. And that preference is big tits, big ass, brown eyes, and motherfucking nipple rings. Or bars. Or whatever the hell they pierce nipples with. Goddamnit, I need to know what they look like!

Fucking nipple piercings. How’s a man supposed to resist that?! I didn’t even try. Why bother? I was already borderline ready to stalk that pretty little creature before Sasha dropped that bombshell in my lap. And now, knowing she’s not just soft curves and bedroom eyes, she’s even more intriguing.

But his attention had shifted to my breasts, and when his tongue started toying with my hardened nipple, flicking it with his piercing, then sucking and biting... yeah, fuck chatting. We could discuss it after orgasms. Clearly, he thought the same thing, shuffling back down the bed and hooking his fingers into the waistband of my shorts. He dragged them down my legs, then cocked that pierced brow at me. "No underwear, Hellcat?" I smirked. "You're a bad influence on me, Max Steele.

The sergeant hit him with the hilt of the sword, and he passed out in pain. When he came to his senses, he saw he’d been thrown into a foul-smelling, straw-covered cell, where he received more blows. But that was barely torture compared to what his jail mates suffered. Especially the woman on a bench across from him. She was naked, her face covered with blood and feces, her nipples and her private parts pierced with electric wires. Each time the Japanese soldier turned on the switch of the electric shock board, she jolted and screamed.

I stuck a safety pin through my ear and started collecting piercings-a few in my ears, one through my septum, two through my nipples, one through my dick. A thick chain connected to a padlock hung around my neck. None of this was ideal in the sweltering heat and daily rain of Florida, but I was willing to suffer for punk fashion.

I stuck a safety pin through my ear and started collecting piercings-a few in my ears, one through my septum, two through my nipples, one through my dick. A thick chain connected to a padlock hung around my neck. None of this was ideal in the sweltering heat and daily rain of Florida, but I was willing to suffer for punk fashion.

Shane groaned, threw his head back and shuddered. His cock dripped, his nipples were so damned tight they hurt, and he tugged on one. Hard. “He’d look good pierced,” Reed said, and Keith agreed. “Might have to get both his nipples done.” Jesus, they would too, would mark him up the way they wanted. “You’d let us, wouldn’t you?” Keith asked and Shane smiled, nodded, the bliss from his impending orgasm carrying him along.

took a handful of the small cubes and placed them on Tommy’s chest. The man’s skin was on fire and when Prophet touched him, he jolted, nipples tightening, and grabbed Prophet’s wrist. Prophet let Tom hold him, but he took one of the cubes and dragged it to a nipple, circling it first around the piercing, then putting it directly onto the already taut tip. Tommy was staring at him, but Prophet was too busy concentrating on his work. He blew on the nipple, and Tommy moaned. And that might be the best thing he’d ever heard. He did the same thing again, circled the nipple, touched the peak, blew, and then he leaned in and bit it before sucking on it, playing with the barbell under his tongue and between his teeth. Tommy flailed, caught his shoulders for purchase, and groaned. Dug his fingers into Prophet’s hair, sending a jolt of incredible, searing hot straight to Prophet’s cock. Jutted his hips against Prophet’s cock like he had no control over himself. Which

Prophet downed the shot and let Tom tug him through the crowded club and into one of the back rooms, where Ray waited. He pointed to the lone chair in the room, and Tom pushed Prophet toward it. Prophet walked to it as slowly as he could. He could do the act of the petulant child better than anyone when he wanted to. And right now? He wanted to. But he did finally lower himself into the seat. Ray stood next to the chair while Tommy came over and took Prophet’s shirt off, tossing it aside. Tommy took Prophet’s left nipple in between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed, then flicked the tip with his nail, making Prophet jump. “Told you that if you were mine, I’d make you pierce it,” Tom murmured as Ray started taking out equipment that looked like . . . piercing equipment. “This.” Prophet pointed a stabbing finger at each of them. Twice. “This was a setup.” “And you fell for it,” Tom said calmly. “I thought you were drunk.” “You definitely are,” Tom observed. “And you weren’t hitting on me?” Prophet asked Ray. “Technically no, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re cute.” Ray smirked, and then gave him a once-over.

Prophet finally breathed when the forceps came off—how long he’d been holding it, he had no idea, but fuck, everything was reduced to the feeling of the piercing, the burning throb in his nipple, and that made it hard to focus on anything else. A long moment later, the ring was locked firmly in place, and Tommy was sinking to his knees in front of him, unzipping his pants and taking his hard cock down his throat. Prophet shot immediately—and Tom had to know that would happen. Prophet knew he’d no doubt have come as he was being pierced . . . if he’d had Tom sucking him while Ray did the piercing. But that was interesting as a fantasy only. Because this wasn’t about sharing. Or payback. This was Tom showing him that he understood. That, no matter what, no matter how pissed they got, how much they fucked up . . . Prophet was his. Which was Tom’s way of assuring that he wasn’t going anywhere.

But all Prophet said was, “Everyone meets their match eventually.” Tom knew their hunger wasn’t something that would level off. No, it was the opposite—it kept rising, twisting, feeding on itself . . . burning stronger, hotter. It wasn’t going to change, partly because of their unpredictability. They were quick to anger. Quicker to forgive. There was so much they still had to go through. Times like this would be few and far between for the next months. But eventually . . . they’d have this again. Hotter than ever. “That’s what I am—your match?” Prophet smiled. Blinked a little, then looked serious. “You don’t know that?” Tom managed to move closer to Prophet, touched his newly pierced nipple, and whispered in his ear. “I like to hear you say it. That’s all I need.

Tom bit his nipple and he jumped. Tom’s version of an order to stay with him. One that Prophet was more than glad to obey. He glanced at the barbell piercings laddering up Tom’s cock—more impressive when Tom was as hard as he was now. Prophet wrapped a leg around Tom’s calf as Tom eased his thighs wider, ready to make Tom fuck him now. “Oh, you’re not taking control,” Tom told him. Before Prophet could respond, Tom rolled him half onto his side, while he remained behind Prophet’s ass, propping one of Prophet’s thighs onto his, preparing to enter him while Prophet grabbed uselessly at the rug. “Don’t you come yet.” It

Are you sure, Raven?” He whispered it so sensually her body went liquid in answer. “I want you to be completely sure. You must be certain this is your choice.” She circled his neck with her arms, cradled his head. “Yes.” The memory of his mouth moving against her, the white-hot pleasure piercing her very soul, made heat pool low and wicked in her abdomen. She wanted this, even needed this. “You give yourself to me freely?” His tongue tasted the texture of her skin, flicked across her pulse, and traced down the valley between her breasts. “Mikhail.” His name was a plea. She feared that he was waiting too long and might not be able to live, to breathe, to merge completely with her. He lifted her easily and cradled her in his arms. His tongue lapped her nipple, once, twice. Raven gasped, arched closer to him, her body scenting the wildness in him rising to match, to conquer, the wildness in her. She seemed to float through the air, every nerve ending raw with hunger and need. The sweet scent of blood called to her. Temptation. She smelled fresh air and opened her eyes to discover the night. It whispered to her with the same sensual power as the ebb and flow of Mikhail’s blood. Trees swayed overhead; the wind cooled her body, yet fanned her need. “This is our world, little one. Feel its beauty, hear its call.

I'm sweating. Is it hot in here? Are the environmentals on? I tug at my collar as Ruthie gazes at me with expectant eyes. "You want me to pierce your breast?" "The nipple, actually. It's a fairly common piercing for humans and it's supposed to be really appealing. I like the thought of doing it but I didn't want to go to Sakkar. Do you mind helping me?" "Of course not." Just the thought of Sakkar seeing her naked breasts and touching them makes me want to punch something. "I'm glad you came to me." "I wouldn't approach anyone else with this." There's a strange little smile on her face. "I trust you.