TWENTY-ONE
The vampire’s glistening sex was offered like a prize before him. At his words, she rolled her hips, tantalizing him with her spread lips, with her intoxicating scent.
Sounding out of his head, he growled, “You pierced your pussy for me.” He leaned down to tease the ring with his tongue.
She went wild, her thighs flexing around his ears. “Yes, Rune!” They met gazes over her mons. Her eyes were bright, glimmering black. Between breaths, she said, “You. You are exciting. This is . . . so freaking fun.”
Fun? She wouldn’t think so for much longer.
Though he could have played with that ring for decades, the scent of her arousal drew him to her opening.
Honey. Warm from the source.
His first time to enjoy this act would be indulging in the most beautiful pussy he’d ever imagined. Mouth covering her, he thrust his tongue for his first taste.
“Ahhh!” She twisted in her bonds.
His eyes rolled back in his head. He dug his claws into her ass, then panicked, retracting them.
No, no, my vampire can take it. She even seemed to like it. He flexed his claws again and gripped her hips. She moaned and undulated to his mouth.
“Fuck, you get so wet. You needed this, didn’t you?” How was he going to keep from plunging into this tight slickness? The pressure in his cock made him gnash his teeth. The crown swelled, the slit so sensitive. His balls ached as if they’d been booted. Was this what it felt like with seed?
Agony! Want more.
He curled his tongue for another helping, groaning against her entrance. He would never get enough of this. Her little lips flared in offer. He sucked one, then the other.
She was watching him, eyes hooded. “You haven’t done this before, right?”
He shouldn’t call attention to his inexperience with this.
“Well, what do you think?”
Power dynamics, he reminded himself. But he wanted to roar about his discovery, to share it. “You’re fucking addictive,” he rasped with another lick. And another. Another. Can’t get enough!
“Oh! Good. Ohhh.”
I’m eating her, and it’s bliss. He pinned her to the mattress as he began to feast in earnest.
Her head thrashed, her long hair streaming over the bed. She was about to come, and he didn’t care. Nothing could tear him away.
“Oh God, oh God!” She yanked against the cuffs, writhing under his kiss. “You’re doing it!”
He gazed up her body. Her pierced tits quivered, her mouth open from her cries.
Between licks, he said, “There you go, Josie.” He sounded crazed. “Give your come to me.” His vision blurred until she appeared to flicker before him.
“Rune, I’m . . . COMING!”
She screamed with pleasure; he tasted her orgasm; his mind turned over.
He buried his face between her legs. Snarling. Sucking. Feasting. Fucking her with his tongue. Groaning as he consumed her.
Her pussy was a revelation. Her body was everything.
The throbbing in his length commanded him to move his hips—to rub his shaft, to sink it, to penetrate her wet core with cock instead of tongue. He fucked the sheets, rutting the bed in a frenzy. Anything for the agonizing pressure to end. Friction burned the crown, the slit. His heavy balls drew up.
About to come already? Control it, hold off!
She was peaking again, and he wanted more of her luscious honey. “AGAIN!” he ordered, clawing her ass.
She obeyed with a wanton cry, bucking against his probing tongue to give it to him.
Sensation coursed up and down his spine. His shaft jerked violently between the mattress and his torso. Pleasure lashed him, so much pleasure . . . so much—
He gave a brutal groan against her slippery, plump pussy.
RELEASE.
He threw back his head. His yell was a fucking war bellow—as wave after wave seized his body, flinging him to some place he’d never been before.
He was out of control. Control was a jest. He surrendered. Shattered.
His back bowed, his cock pulsating as if to shoot seed. Heart-stopping tremors . . .
On and on and on.
Gradually that exquisite pressure relented, and his yell ebbed in his chest. As the world spun, he lay with his head on her pale, trembling thigh, heaving his breaths. Only the two of them existed; he was certain.
He licked his lips, her taste proving what he’d experienced was real. An hour passed, a day, an age. He didn’t care; he needed to rest. Not because he was sated—solely because his release had seemed to alter him.
“Rune?”
Her drawling voice roused him. What the hells had he done? So much was at stake, and he hadn’t even asked a single question!
With effort, he sat up. Making it to his knees, he swiped his forearm over his mouth. He’d seen her naked and lost his godsdamned mind—as if he hadn’t been doing this his entire life. As if he didn’t pride himself on his prowess.
He’d come from rutting the sheets. How the old queen would laugh. He gritted his fangs. Get control of the situation. Begin anew.
He surveyed Josephine’s body for the next round. Where was his clinical detachment? For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what sexual thing he wanted to do next. Bed sport had always been about limitations—can’t do that, can’t touch that, can’t put my mouth there.
Now the options were dizzying. His repertoire hadn’t prepared him for this. “Good. We got that out of the way.” His voice sounded off. Strained. From his war bellow.
Still panting, she said, “I was so close to telling you everything. No, really. Swear.” She flashed him that bedazzling smile. “Next time I’m sure I will. Should we get to it?”
Rune was going to make her eat her words. “You’ve just made me that much more determined, vampire.”